Diamonds Are Truly Forever: An Agent Ex Novel 2 (5 page)

He turned around and put a hand on her shoulder, pushing her back into it. The man had the reactions of a cat. “Sit.”

“I’m going with you.”

“You’re staying. You’ll be safer here.”

Sometimes Drew was serious and sometimes he was deadly serious. This was the second case. She knew enough to recognize his mood and not argue.

“I’m in solitary now?” She really didn’t feel like being alone so soon after nearly being shot.

“You’re never alone. I’m always watching.”

“Now, that makes me feel better.”

He grabbed his coat from where he’d tossed it on the sofa. “Don’t leave this house under any circumstance—”

“Not even fire.”

“Not if you value your life. Don’t let anyone in. No one. Don’t even open the door. Understand?”

“Yes, Mom.”

He stared directly into her eyes. “Promise me you won’t leave while I’m gone.”

She bit her lip, wishing she had another option. “Promise.”

“You’ll be here when I get back?”

She took a deep breath. “Yes.”

“Good.” He looked relieved. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

She sighed. “Drive safely.”

“Always.” He headed out.

“Bring some clean sheets back with you!” she called after him.

*   *   *

After Drew swept up the glass from the kitchen floor of his former home, he ran a laser beam through the holes in the door into the pantry, tracing the bullets’ trajectories. The bullets had to be lodged in there somewhere. Unfortunately, the beam landed on empty divots in the wall. Drew moved in for a closer look. Both bullets had originally lodged in a stud. He could see tiny scrapes as if from a pocketknife around the holes.

Damn! Someone beat me to it and has already dug the bullets out.

He surveyed the room, just as he had when he’d first come in. The cookies were still out en masse, undisturbed on cooling racks. The window glass appeared to have missed them. He grabbed one and munched on it. There was no trace of an intruder. Or glass in his cookie.

He finished his cookie and aimed the laser out the pantry toward the broken window, trying to trace its path back to its point of origin, memorizing the line of the beam.

He glanced at his watch. The window repair guy would arrive any minute. Nothing more he could find out here. He covered the holes in the pantry door with dabs of white filler putty he found in the junk drawer. He finished just as the window glass guy pulled up. He grabbed his full-size bird-and-bad-guy-watching binoculars and met the van in the driveway. The repair guy got out and took a look.

Drew remembered the sound of his neighbor mowing and had already thought up a cover story. “Neighbor’s lawn mower threw a rock.” Drew shook his head.

The repair guy laughed. “Tough luck for the neighbor. He’s paying?”

“Nah, neighbor’s a good guy. My insurance will cover it.” He winked.

Leaving the repair in the window guy’s competent hands, Drew followed the path of the trajectory and found the spot where the sniper had shot at Staci from.

It was an ideal location in the water retention pond area next to their neighbor’s house. Concealed, isolated, yet with a clear bead. Any noise the sniper made would have been concealed by the lawn mower.

Definitely the work of a pro.

Drew squatted, resting on the balls of his feet, and studied the area, looking for clues and forensic evidence. As he suspected, there were none. Finally, he stood and scanned the area with his binoculars, pretending to be interested in birds. Back at the house, the window guy looked busy.

Drew headed for the sidewalk.

He’d taken no more than half a dozen steps toward home when Emmett Nelson walked out of hiding and fell into stride next to him. “Bad luck with the window?”

“Bad luck? Is that what we’re calling failed sniper attacks these days? I’d say it was good luck neither of us was hurt.” Drew paused. “Thanks to my finely honed reflexes.”

He didn’t bother looking at Emmett. Drew knew better than to be surprised when the chief showed up out of nowhere. The guy was like poisonous gas, invisible until you felt the effects of his presence.

“Are you in town long?” Meaning, was Emmett going to be breathing down Drew’s neck this mission.

“No idea,” Emmett said. “I’ll be here as long as it takes. How’s Staci?”

“As well as can be expected. She’s shaken and locked up safely at my place.”

“Take good care of her. Staci’s one of my favorites. Always has been. Sweet girl.”

Drew was in no mood to listen to Emmett sing Staci’s praises. He was too damn worried. “Staci suspects Beto Bevilacqua is behind this.”

Emmett paused, looking as if he was considering the idea. “This isn’t his usual MO.”

Drew held Emmett’s piercing gaze. “Definitely RIOT, then?”

“That’s our best guess. We’re trying to track down the shooter.” Emmett paused. “Don’t let this take your head out of the game. Stick to your mission. It’s delicate enough as it is. Let us handle this attack on Staci.

“We need the Fisherman to lead us to the Gardener and get them both before either can pass the satellite secrets to RIOT. It’s time we brought down this whole Pacific Northwest RIOT operation before they cause worldwide chaos.”

Drew blew out a breath. “But why attack Staci? Has the Fisherman threatened to back out or gone off plan?”

“Not that we know of.”

Drew frowned. “Could Staci know something? Something she doesn’t even know she knows? Since we separated, she’s been spending more time with her mom and Sam.”

“Find out,” Emmett said.

“I need to be able to let her out of the house without worrying she’ll end up dead.”

“Then make sure she’s safe. I’ll do what I can on my end.” Emmett paused. “Be kind to Staci. Make her happy. She went through hell for you in Ciudad.”

As if Drew didn’t know that.

Emmett looked up at the sky and watched a western tanager fly by. “You didn’t see what she looked like when we found her.”

Drew balled his fists and took a deep breath. No, he hadn’t seen her. Thank God. He’d have killed Bevilacqua on the spot. Fortunately for the Brazilian Bevil, Drew had been miles away in surgery, fighting for his life. It had been days before he’d been well enough to go to Staci’s hospital room and see her. Even prettied up, she’d looked fragile, bruised, and broken. Drew’d had the same urge to kill Beto then.

Emmett was still watching the slow-moving red, yellow, and black bird as it landed in a tree. “They tortured her with spiders, you know.”

No, he didn’t know for sure, only suspected. It was just like Emmett to drop that bomb on him now. Staci had always been afraid of spiders.

“Brazilian wandering spiders. Most lethal in the world. Ugly bastards, too.

“After all the beating and threats, that’s when she cracked and told them you mentioned you’d be in Minga Guazú that night. Remember, she never did reveal that you and Jack worked for us.”

Yeah, he remembered and was proud of her. She’d nearly lost her life protecting him.

But damn that bastard, Bevilacqua! Drew felt like punching something. Instead he hung on to his self-control, barely. He never should have mentioned, even in passing, that he and Jack were going to Minga Guazú that night. It didn’t mean anything to Staci so he thought it wouldn’t matter. He had no idea Bevilacqua even knew she existed, let alone would come after her. He still didn’t know how Bevilacqua had found her or discovered she was his wife.

“A woman like that’s worth hanging on to,” Emmett said.

“She doesn’t want me to hang on to her, as you say. She’s made that pretty clear.”

“Have you tried to convince her you want her back?”

Drew raised a brow. “I don’t see the point. She’s agreed to pretend we’re back together until the danger’s passed. Once Staci’s safe and we have the Fisherman, I
am
going to finalize this divorce.”

Drew was in direct defiance of Emmett’s wishes, but he didn’t give a damn. Emmett believed ex-spouses were a liability, a security leak waiting to happen. He could just go to hell. Once this was over, Drew wasn’t putting Staci in danger again.

*   *   *

Staci stared at the phone on the table before her, peeved as well as scared. No way could Drew order her around, fake happily reunited husband or not. The word
obey
hadn’t been in their wedding vows. She’d call when she felt like it. Right now she didn’t feel up to either talking or the lying it required.

Lying.
She shuddered. All she wanted was an honest life. One where no one killed for the truth and the truth didn’t kill anyone.

She sat in her chair, deflated, contemplative. She was right back where she’d been these past years—living the life of lying that Drew had tricked her into.

She’d been a naive fool, falling hard for him from the minute they met. He was so genuine and true. Just the type of man she’d always dreamed of—smart, handsome, funny, adventurous,
honest.
By the time they married, he was everything to her. She couldn’t imagine not loving him passionately and sharing her innermost thoughts with him for the rest of her life.

Then came the day about a year into their marriage when her rose-colored glasses shattered and she discovered what Drew really was—a spy and a professional liar. Watching the man you love fall from the pedestal you’ve put him on was a horror she wouldn’t wish on anyone. She didn’t know him and couldn’t believe him. Who was he really? What part of himself did he keep from her? Why hadn’t she left him then, before he dragged her into his world of intrigue?

It was her own fault. She never should have begged him to take her with him on a mission. Never should have pleaded to go with him to the notorious city of smugglers and drug lords, Ciudad del Este, Paraguay.

But it had all sounded so romantic and adventurous. Drew had tucked her away in a sweet little apartment of her own, keeping her secret and safe from the world. Hiding her someplace where her inability to lie didn’t matter. He had his own apartment and kept up a cover identity separate from her. She never knew any of the details of it, not even where his apartment was.

It was safer for Staci not to know anything. Drew told her that if anyone ever found them out, she should claim to be his American mistress. No one of importance.

She sighed, remembering beautiful, hot spring nights in Paraguay with Drew. And the intoxication of having a clandestine affair with her husband.

Handsome, dark, cocky Jack Pierce with his slightly crooked nose, their friend from Seattle, accompanied Drew on the mission. He was the only other person in Paraguay who knew she was really Drew’s wife, and where she lived.

He stopped by, hung out, drank, complained about the chaotic traffic through town, and shot the breeze with Drew several evenings a week at her flat during the month she was there. The consummate considerate guest, Jack often came bearing a hostess gift, something he’d gotten from the smugglers’ markets—knockoff designer perfumes and sunglasses, pirated DVDs, a new memory card for her camera, all trinkets sold on the streets.

“You treat me better than Drew does,” Staci teased him, shooting a sidelong glance at her husband.

“I know better than to waste good money on that cheap crap,” Drew said.

Jack shrugged, a twinkle in his eye. “I have to buy something. It’s the price of admission to get through the streets.

“It’s just a shame you don’t smoke or snort coke, Staci,” Jack said. “Everyone’s pushing contraband cigarettes and drugs out there. It’s a pain fighting them all off.”

“Yeah, what a shame.” She shook her head.

“You know, you really should let me get you a nice AK-47. For when that one’s not around.” He nodded toward Drew. “In case trouble comes calling. I’d get you a good price.”

Staci shook her head again. “I bet you would. But I think it’s overkill. I have no idea how to use one.”

“Oh, they’re just point and shoot, really. Why do you think all the terrorists love them?”

Jack liked weapons. Actually, Jack loved weapons. Staci had a feeling, though she didn’t know for sure, that Jack was trained as a sniper.

Another time, Jack tossed her a plain brown bag he’d brought with him. “A little something for the man of the house, though I think you’ll enjoy it, too.” He winked at her.

Staci looked in the bag and pulled out a pack of pills with
Viagra
spelled wrong on the box. She sputtered and started to laugh.

Drew’s expression remained neutral. Staci could see him plotting a revenge prank.

Jack grinned. “It was only a matter of time before I had to break down and buy something pharmaceutical off the street.”

Drew ripped the pills out of her hand. “Counterfeit Viagra? This stuff is probably ninety percent coke. Are you trying to kill me?”

“I’m always looking for innovative ways to kill. But I don’t practice on friends.” He clapped Drew on the back. “Still, if I did, at least you’d go with a smile on your face.”