Suddenly a Spy (11 page)

“Richard,” the eyes that leveled on Rick were
not happy ones.

“Look, love—it’s your parents,” Rick stood
back and motioned for them to come inside.

“Veronica, we’ve been worried sick about you.
Jeff will tell us nothing,” Helen Talbot entered the room with all
the finesse of a hurricane. Ronnie knew her mother well enough to
see she was just getting warmed up. “First that strange woman shows
up at your wedding. You haven’t returned any of my phone calls. You
disappeared with your brother—he came back and you and Richard take
off, work says you’ve hardly been in the office since the wedding.
What’s going on?”

Veronica took a breath to respond, only to be
interrupted by her father.

“Keep in mind what I already know… before you
start working on a lie.”

“Really Daddy? Have you ever known me to lie
to you?”

“Do you want me to answer that?”

Veronica pursed her lips and thought about
that one. “Right. Look, we just had a few things come up. It’s
fine, really. And as for work… I’ve been thinking about taking your
advice, Daddy… maybe doing something that entails a little bit more
field work.”

“Great. I’ll make a phone call tomorrow.”

“Not for the Bureau, Daddy.”

“I don’t understand.”

“A former colleague of mine had offered us a
position,” Rick stepped into the conversation. He exchanged a look
with Veronica that spoke volumes.

“I don’t like it,” Sean frowned.

“How is this different than me getting a job
in a field office?”

“I can watch you in a field office.”

“I’m a grown woman.”

“You’ll understand someday when you have kids
of your own,” Helen assured her.

“About that…,” Veronica took a deep breath,
her eyes locking with Rick’s. He flashed her an incredibly charming
grin only she could understand.

“Just rip my heart out of my chest and stomp
on it,” Helen threw her hands up.

“Mom,” Veronica rolled her eyes.

“Don’t you mom me… you know Jeff isn’t going
to give me grandchildren any time soon. You were my best hope.”

“You’re not going to guilt me into having
children, mother.”

“The truth is, we can’t have children,” Rick
interjected.

“What do you mean?”

“It really just came up. We’re still working
through it ourselves,” Rick expounded.

“We’ll find you the best medical care
possible,” her mother swore.

“You know what? I’m actually feeling a little
worn out. Could we talk about this later?” Ronnie ushered her
parents towards the door, casting a death glare at Rick behind
their backs.

After kisses and reassurances that she would
be fine, Veronica finally closed the door on her parents. Once they
were alone, she whirled to face Rick.

“What was that?”

“I’m so sorry. I panicked.”

“You panicked? The big, bad spy panicked in
the face of Helen Talbot?”

“Your mother is a terrifying woman.”

He seemed so sincere Veronica couldn’t help
the giggle that escaped. “You’re a horrible man. You shouldn’t have
told her that.”

“We’ll clarify that I meant logistically
later,” he promised.

“Are you planning on emailing her when we’re
in another country?”

“Something like that,” he pulled her into his
arms, careful not to bump her shoulder. She took a deep breath,
allowing the mixture of sweet spice and woodsy to wrap itself
around her senses.

“Stupid shoulder.”

“Is it hurting?” he pulled back to examine
her, his expression concerned.

“Not much. But it’s keeping me from what I
really want.”

“Is it now?”

“Mm-hmm,” Ronnie licked her lips, her eyes
fixated at the base of his throat. It felt like ages since she’d
tasted him last. Her fingers acted of their own accord, finding
their way under his shirt to his bare skin. There they ran lightly
along the muscles of his abdomen. A guttural groan escaped his lips
as her teeth grazed the skin of his neck.

“Woman, you’re going to kill me yet.”

“Whatever do you mean?” her tongue teased his
flesh.

“I’m not going to be able to control myself
much longer.”

“Fine,” she reluctantly pulled away. If she
ripped open the wound in her shoulder, it would set them back even
further. “The doctor said it would take about three weeks to be
good as new, right?”

“Three weeks,” he repeated, his voice thick.
“Three very long weeks.”

Thanks to a montage moment in their lives,
three weeks passed more quickly than either of them expected. Rick
stayed busy making plans and preparations. Veronica would have been
more interested in being a part of them if she hadn’t been so
preoccupied finding her replacement at work.

She considered keeping her newly acquired art
for sentimental value, but figured the money would be more useful
than sentiment. She felt a skosh of guilt over moving black market
goods, but told herself it was for the greater good.

Of course, everything Veronica did was from
the townhouse. Rick had her under constant surveillance should
anyone from Marko’s operation turn up. The lack of retaliation was
eerie. Veronica wondered if they were playing mind games or truly
regrouping. Either way, she was always on edge.

Courtney was back in her own home, after Jeff
and Rick helped her set it right again. Veronica was eager to hear
how all of that togetherness had gone for them. The fact that Jeff
was still not only alive, but following Courtney around had Ronnie
intrigued. Thankfully, Courtney had agreed to be a dog nanny to
their babies. Knowing they were happy and cared for helped set her
mind at ease.

Helen Talbot had made it her own personal
mission to get Veronica the finest medical treatment available. The
endless procession of her mother’s well-meaning friends calling to
offer advice and referrals significantly slowed her progress. The
longer she let it go without setting the record straight, the
harder it would be to do so. Still, it seemed silly to fight that
battle with her life hanging in the balance. After she’d taken down
the major crime syndicate that was after her, maybe she’d feel
better equipped to face her mother with the truth.

Chapter Twelve

It wasn’t long before Veronica found herself
sitting on the stone patio of a charming hacienda sipping a
cocktail and listening to the soothing gurgle of water in the
concrete fountain that stood as the garden’s centerpiece.

Pink and purple flowers wound their way
around the concrete pillar railing that lined the patio. Veronica
had instantly fallen in love with the white Spanish-style home with
blue trim. The roof was made of rounded tile, and a stone chimney
rose from the center of the building.

Terra cotta pots with brightly colored
flowers lined the patio. Tropical trees offered their branches for
shade. Perhaps most heady was the delicious scent of roses hanging
in the air all around her.

Rick sat at her right, completely at ease in
this paradise. Across from her sat a man who defined the phrase
tall, dark and handsome. His tousled hair bore the look of someone
just in from horseback riding. A layer of scruff nearly concealed
the dimple created when he smiled at her. His eyes were the color
of her favorite toffee colored diamond earrings.

He was solid and rugged and every inch
masculine. He was the kind of man that made her mind instantly
start flipping through her mental rolodex, trying to find the
perfect woman for him. It seemed a crime against nature that he
remained single.

Behind him stood a pretty blonde who was
perhaps 90 pounds, and yet there was something in her stance that
said she was not to be trifled with. Veronica instantly respected
her.

When Rick suggested training in the jungles
of Ecuador, Veronica envisioned something much more grueling than
their current setting. Oppressive humidity and rain forests had
come to mind. Instead, she sat chatting easily with an ex-patriot
who’d moved to South America after the Andean Trade Preferences Act
had been passed in the ‘90s. The American tycoon had seen an
opportunity and now lived a life of luxury growing roses in
paradise. He fascinated her with his ability to just set out on a
grand adventure. Although, she supposed her own current adventure
was nothing to sneeze at.

On their way to Ecuador, Rick had explained
how carefully planned their host’s venture had been. He paid well
over traditional daily wages in the area, provided free childcare
for his workers, and even set up accounts for the women at the
local grocer so their husbands could not drink away their
wages.

His entire operation was earth-friendly,
socially responsible and very smart. He was also quick to credit
the woman standing behind him for implementing most of it. Devon
McAlister and his assistant were a good team.

“Stay as long as you want,” he was assuring
them both. “You know we’re happy to help any way we can. Sorry for
the rough start to the marriage. That was kind of suckish of
them.”

“Yes, it was very suckish of them,” Veronica
agreed, a bubble of laughter escaping over his chosen description.
It summed things up pretty well. “Some of the people I’ve
encountered since embarking on this journey have put things into
perspective for me, though.”

Veronica still hadn’t managed to escape the
measure of guilt she felt when she thought about Anuli and the
other women of similar fate.

“You have to stop beating yourself up for
being born into better circumstances than others,” Rick reminded
her for the tenth time.

“I’m good at making money,” Devon
interjected. “Always have been. My dad was good at making money,
too. I don’t feel guilty about that—but I do use what I’m good at
to help others.”

Veronica nodded, as if she were not
completely sold on the idea.

“The same applies for the person who is good
at fixing cars or delivering packages. They still have something to
offer mankind. You are where you are for a reason. You can use it,
or you can waste it.”

His words followed her through dinner and
even as she lay in her bed that night. The more she thought about
it, the more she realized the guilt she was feeling stemmed from
how little she’d done more than anything else.

She’d been a good student, had followed all
the rules and was good at her job. But her existence would leave no
imprint on the universe. At the rate she was going, she would
someday earn a riveting eulogy along the lines of “she took up
air.”

Maybe Rick was right, maybe she was being too
hard on herself. Still, it was hard to shake. From the cadence of
his breathing, she knew he wasn’t asleep either. She enjoyed just
being with him, soaking up his presence and the ambience of this
new place.

“I’ve always enjoyed visiting Devon’s
home.”

“It’s lovely.”

“Tomorrow we move to the training grounds.
You might be demanding a divorce by tomorrow evening.”

“I’m not that easy to get rid of.”

“Just remind yourself you love me, okay?”

Veronica wasn’t sure how to reply to that
ominous statement, so she didn’t even try. It seemed better to
simply enjoy feeling the rise and fall of his chest under her
cheek. She might have fallen asleep that way, if he hadn’t wrapped
his legs around her and rolled her over, playfully growling and
biting at her neck. Laughter bubbled up and she gladly succumbed to
his antics.

The next morning, as she walked through the
sticky jungle with all of her supplies on her back, the weight of
the pack pulling at her shoulders, she vaguely regretted not
getting more sleep the night before. It was hard to believe they
were still on Devon’s property; their new surroundings were so
vastly different than the homestead. That had been a cultivated
paradise. This was untamed jungle.

Conversation was sparse as they made their
way through the dense vegetation. Veronica needed her oxygen to
function and Rick seemed lost in thought. Sometimes she felt like
she was married to two men—one that could charm a nun out of her
habit and one that was brooding and mysterious. The second she knew
little about, and that was unnerving.

Any hopes she had for getting to know the
other side of her husband were dashed by harsh reality. Brooding,
mysterious types were—by nature—not a chatty bunch. Her initial
attempts to engage him in conversation were thwarted by the intense
expression in his dark gray-green eyes. In fact, the more steel in
his eyes, the less likely she was to even get a grunt from him. The
man had a wicked scowl when he wanted to.

It didn’t take long for the sheer rigor of
her day to lead her to give up attempts at conversation. For a
solid week, his focus was on whipping her into shape.

“Holy cow,” she huffed one evening as she
collapsed in a gelatinous pile on her bunk. “I used to think I was
fairly fit.”

Rick’s bark of a laugh earned a fierce
glare.

“Don’t get me wrong, you have always looked
amazing,” he quickly amended.

“But…”

“You’re kind of a cream puff.”

“A cream puff?” her voice raised a notch.

“But you’re beautiful, love. Love?”

“I’m not speaking to you anymore,” she rolled
over on her side, glaring angrily at the wall. Maybe he was
right—she had wrongly equated dress size with physical fitness—but
he didn’t have to call her names. “Humph. We’ll see who the cream
puff is.”

That thought pushed her onward each day—she
clung to it for strength. When her muscles begged for mercy, she
pushed them harder. When her lungs cried out, she steeled her mind
to the burn.

After the second week of torture, he moved
into the next phase of their training. For hours on end, they
mocked battles as she brushed up on the martial arts she’d learned
in her youth.