Conning For Keeps (An Agents of TRAIT Novella) (Entangled Flaunt) (10 page)

There. Honest without saying too much. And totally honest on the last part. No one needed to know that Marissa had gone completely off-script or that he’d debated—more than once—sneaking into Canalis’s room and slitting his throat. And they definitely didn’t need to know that curling up next to Marissa’s naked body was the thing that kept him from doing it.

Trevor tapped his fingers on the table while he waited for Greta to talk to their boss and wondered for a second how much of the office had been called in on a Saturday for this or if it was only the two of them.

Greta Gallagher: Josh is pulling some people to infiltrate as staff. Less obtrusive, but they’ll still be on hand. The others are a call or text away. I’ll forward you the number now. Make sure you put it in as your 911.

Trevor’s phone vibrated a second later with the promised phone number, and he immediately set it for quick dial.

Greta Gallagher:
He also said if the painting isn’t there, just finish out the play and come back. The last thing the people who ordered the mission want is for Canalis to file another harassment suit. His exact words were “Remind Trevor to follow the secret part of being a secret agent and keep his fists to his damn self.”

Of course. Unless the shit hit the fan, especially with everything that had already gone wrong. One more thing, and all bets were off. But “another” harassment suit? The Feds had gone after Canalis before, but he thought it had all been on the down-low. Not enough evidence so they always pulled back.

Need to know, Harris. If Josh thought you needed that information, you’d have had it.
Then again, if he’d known Canalis was sitting pretty because people were afraid to touch him, he might have given up a night with Marissa to take care of the man once and for all.

Trevor Harris: Orders received. Disconnecting.

He shut down the program and closed his laptop. Time to get ready to get married.

For all the stress of the night before, the morning went off without a hitch. For his own sanity, he made a point of wandering by the room where the girls were getting dolled up, satisfied at the sound of Marissa’s clear laughter echoing into the hallway.

No tightness to the sound at all, as if everything was as normal as could be.

Right.

Trevor marched to their room and shut the door, catching it before it slammed. He was far too edgy. There were some things he
did
need to know, damn it. And what was going on with Marissa was one of them.

Her phone sat next to his laptop, plugged into its charger, ripe for the taking. Trevor scrubbed at his face for a minute, balancing her privacy with the mission. Blowing out a sharp breath, he decided. If she’d gone dirty, her privacy didn’t matter, and if she hadn’t, she’d understand.

He hoped.

Their phones were password protected, but he’d seen Marissa put hers in often enough that he knew it as well as his own. Nothing in her browser history. Or phone records. Or her texts. At least since they’d been here, she’d been off the grid.

Wait. No. There were the texts to Cal, and she hadn’t deleted those. But those were meaningless. Trevor tapped the phone against his palm. Would she risk email?

Thumbing that icon, he pulled up her accounts. Two. One for TRAIT and a personal one. Her TRAIT email, unsurprisingly, came up dry. So did the other. It seemed like it had been dormant for almost a year. Which either meant she didn’t use it much, or she deleted everything on a regular basis. No answers there.

He was about to give up on her email as well when he noticed her draft folder wasn’t empty. Probably nothing, but he opened it anyway.

The file there was addressed to him—at
his
personal email. The one no one in TRAIT had access to.

This couldn’t be good.

Holding his breath, he read.

My dearest Trevor,

There are so many things I feel like I should say right now, so many things to apologize for.

He debated stopping right there. Marissa had as much as confessed her treason in those two lines. Calling in the cavalry was the only option. But he didn’t. The salutation kept him immobile. Would she call him “dearest” and then betray everything they’d stood for in the next breath?

But if you’re reading this, it means I wasn’t there to stop it from sending, which means you’re hating me for all the wrong reasons. Yes, the Valjean thing…I made it up. It was a wild-goose chase to keep you busy while I gave Canalis something to focus on—namely me. I had to get in close the only way I knew how, and I had to keep you in the dark to make the ruse work.

Damn it. He should have known all along and gotten them out of here when he’d screwed up.

You know my history with this stupid painting, but what you might have been too bullheaded to figure out was my priorities changed.
You
changed them.

Trevor paused, wisps of his anger evaporating.

I fell for you a long time ago, but it was in a way that didn’t mean anything. It was a crush. Then this week…I wanted this to be real. I wanted to take the forever you promised and wrap myself up in it. Canalis and his stupid painting be damned. But I know what the job means to you. I figured the only way to make you trust me again was to get it. And the only way to do that and keep you safe was to be the con artist I was raised to be.

The problem is if you’re reading this, I wasn’t good enough. I screwed up, and the price became too high to take the painting from him. The price became you. And I’d rather give up my freedom and the place I fought so hard to earn than have anything happen to you. As much as it might make you hate me, I’d rather betray the mission than betray what I feel.

I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I hope you understand.

In whatever language it means the most, I love you.

Marissa

Trevor sagged against the couch, glad it was there to break his fall. The message was scheduled to send in a few hours—presumably if she didn’t come back to the room. She loved him. That was the part ringing through his brain. It wasn’t simply sex and a good time. There’d be no reason for a con of that nature if she disappeared. The email was his one glimpse into her beautiful, fractured heart.

She’d done this—all of it—to keep him safe. He didn’t like the way she’d run things—keeping everything from him—but he had to trust that she knew what she was doing. Hell, he had to trust
her.
If he’d never brought her out of the hypnosis, he wouldn’t have known more than she decided to tell him.

It was the difficulty inherent in being Marissa’s partner on a mission like this. The only difference now was that the people back at the field office had been out of the loop. It was a testament to how much trust they put in Trevor to make sure things were solid on this end.

Trust he sure as hell didn’t deserve after the mess he’d made.

But now he had no choice but to give Marissa that same benefit of the doubt. She knew what needed to be done and had been working on it all along. Time to let her do it and play his part. He only wished his job was more than to have her back and make sure nothing went sideways. Or at least nothing
else
.

Two hours later, he was in his tux and on his way toward the ballroom for the ceremony. Not wanting to deal with people, he made his way to the main floor via the side staircases. A few levels down, voices speaking in rapid-fire Italian grabbed his attention, and he stopped. It didn’t matter that they spoke another language, one of the voices was instantly recognizable—Canalis senior.

Trevor pressed against the wall and let out a slow breath, focusing on the sounds and cadence of the words, letting his subconscious take over and switch his brain to Italian. He mentally translated as Canalis spoke.

“…Make sure everything’s ready. The last thing I want is for her to catch wind of any of this beforehand. When the time comes, I want to make sure Marissa Joens is…” a door slammed and Trevor missed the next few words. It wouldn’t have mattered though. He’d heard enough. Whatever she’d told Canalis, it hadn’t worked. He knew who she was, and the entire thing was compromised. As much as she wasn’t willing to risk him, Trevor wasn’t going to let anything happen to her, either. They had to get out now.

Heedless of his tuxedo, Trevor rushed toward the ballroom. She wouldn’t have her Glock since there’d be no place to put it in her dress. Marissa had gone in armed with nothing more than the blade she kept under her pillow at night.

The only thing keeping Trevor sane was the fact that Canalis was still discussing plans. She wouldn’t be attacked now. Hopefully, whatever Canalis intended would be delayed until after the wedding.

Already guests were making their way into the ballroom, taking seats in chairs draped in white cloths with bright red bows. Wedding dresses splattered with blood.

He had to find Marissa now. Trevor checked his phone. The wedding was in fifteen minutes. He could call in Josh’s team, but that might push Canalis to make a move sooner rather than later. If Marissa was the objective, his first duty was to keep her safe at all costs.

His gaze darted around the ballroom, hunting for where the brides would be tucked away. There, in a very quiet, don’t-notice-me-I’m-part-of-the-background, tan suit stood Amy. Nodding at people as he passed, Trevor made his way toward her.

“Mr. Smythe?”

“I need to see Mari.”

She gave him one of those smiles designed to quiet panicked grooms and brides and laid a hand on his arm. “Fifteen…no, twelve minutes.”

“Not twelve minutes. Now.” This woman was not a guard, and Marissa wasn’t in jail for God’s sake.

Her smile dropped to a stern tightening of her lips, and she actually shook her damn finger at him. “Mr. Smythe, I’ve been more than patient with you and your refusal to talk to” —she waved at the mass of people assembling in the hall— “anyone. But this has gone far enough. You should already be lining up with the other grooms to sign your marriage license. Your bride will be out, on time, with the others. You will
not
screw up this commission for me. Nor will I allow you to tarnish Mari’s big day by bursting in on her. It’s horrid luck to see the bride in her dress before the wedding. Now shoo. The sooner you do your part, the sooner you’ll be happily married and everything will be fine.”

Trevor’s hands fisted, but Josh’s final orders rang through his head, reminding him that a quiet exit after the wedding was smarter than making a scene now.

He still wanted to wipe Amy’s patronizing little smile off her face, but it wouldn’t do any good. He settled for scowling at her as he turned and stalked to the front of the ballroom, taking his place in line. When the license was laid in front of him, he signed it absently, counting the seconds until they could be out of here.

“
Finally!” Evangeline grabbed the papers from the guy in the doorway and spun.

Marissa sat, her hands clenched together beneath acres of tulle. Minutes. Minutes were all that separated her from the painting that could have saved her from the years in juvie. Kept her parents out of prison if only they’d listened to her teenage whim.

…Kept her a criminal. Kept her from becoming a TRAIT agent.

She hated
Certain Laughter
as much as she loved it. After all this time, though, just to hold it, possess it for a minute.

Then…

She wanted to believe she’d find a way to do the right thing, but her thoughts kept straying to the dream. Who was she? Really? At the end of the day, she went under hypnosis for most missions, happily losing herself to get the job done. But could she do it as herself?

Trevor had. He’d walked away from easy money in order to become a good person and a great agent. What if she wasn’t that strong? Had she been using the programming all this time to be better at her job or to resist temptation? If she had the choice, the
real
choice, what was the life she wanted for herself?

Canalis wasn’t an option. She wasn’t that kind of criminal.

But there were other kinds.

She’d make one hell of a sexy, modern-day Robin Hood, and there were certainly a lot of people who could use the help.

Or was she an agent deep down, willing to sacrifice herself for the very country that had locked her up?

“Earth to Mari…” Evangeline stood in front of her, radiant in some crazy design from Alexander McQueen. Feathers brushed her skin, and Swarovski crystals shattered the light. It wasn’t an effect that should work, but on Evangeline it did. She waved a piece of paper in Marissa’s face. “You need to sign this. We’ll hand them to Amy on our way out.” She held out a pen in her other hand. Marissa took both. “You look gorgeous, by the way.”

“Thanks. Your gown is amazing.” She glanced in the mirror and didn’t recognize the woman staring back at her. The dress TRAIT had provided was beautiful, with its strapless bodice bedecked in silver bits and sequins. Her hair fell in soft, familiar waves.

Her eyes, though, were haunted in a way she didn’t like. Too many memories with this mission. Too much sadness and stress. Too much hope…and she wasn’t even sure what she was hoping for. Marissa Joens had never been one to believe in hope anyway. Letting out a sigh, she leaned over and scrawled on the paper.

Straightening, she squared her shoulders. Damn it. She was not going to let melancholy get the best of her. She had a job to do, and she was going to enjoy as much of this as she could. After all, it might be the only time she got married. When Amy called from the doorway, Marissa picked up her silver and crystal tiara, settled it on her head, and stood.

Minutes. She could get through minutes. As they left, she handed over the paper and followed the other brides to the door where they picked up their bouquets.

Her heart started pounding as the entrance swung open. She needed to figure this all out before the wedding was over. She couldn’t go in to see the painting without a plan, without knowing what door—or window—she planned to exit through.