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

He walked past her so closely, he brushed against her pushed-up-and-out breasts. She got a whiff of his delectable cologne. Her breath caught. Involuntary reaction on her part. Intentional foul on his, she was sure.

He wore the navy-blue shirt she so loved on him, the one that made his eyes look even bluer than normal. It hugged and showed off his broad shoulders and every arm and chest muscle he owned. The man looked hot enough to eat. And tan for this time of year. His sandy-blond hair light and sun-bleached. Should a woman be so physically attracted to her husband mere weeks before their divorce became final? Shouldn’t her hurt feelings take him down a peg or two on the attractiveness meter?

Maybe not. She reminded herself Drew was exactly like his boss Emmett. He could throw on the invisibility cloak or devastate you with charm and good looks. All without the aid of makeup or stage paint.

Just why Drew was putting on this persona confounded her. Last time she’d seen him, at her lawyer’s office over a month ago, he’d been impassive and quiet, a study in calmly ignoring her.

She’d wounded his pride. She knew that. Andrew Collin Fields never failed at anything. Losing her was a slap at his James Bond spy machismo.

She took a deep breath, subtly. Already, she had doubts about the outfit she’d chosen to wear. Judging from the way Drew gawked at her, it screamed
Woman on the make
instead of her intended
Look what you gave up.

Yes, she wanted to spark jealousy and remorse that he’d chosen his career over her. In the name of her pride, though, she was also determined to be pleasant. But she didn’t want him getting any other ideas, something crazy like she was regretting her decision to divorce him. Life apart was safer.
For both of them.

“You look tan,” she said to make conversation. “Been on a mission someplace sunny?”

He hesitated, looking as if he didn’t want to answer. “I was back in Hawaii this past month. Following up.” He had the good grace to appear sheepish and almost apologetic.

He’d been promising to take her to Hawaii for a second honeymoon for years. Well, up until this latest unpleasant divorce business. Soon she’d be free to take herself. When she found another job and got a little cash ahead. She forced herself to smile. “Tough life.”

He cleared his throat. “In the kitchen? Something smells good in there.”

She nodded, surprised he was being so pleasant. “After you.”

She followed him in, nearly colliding with his backside as he abruptly stopped just inside the kitchen door.

“Whoa! Give me a little warning before you brake,” she snapped, without thinking. He hated it when she used that irritated tone on him.

Fortunately, he didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy scanning the racks of cooling cookies that lined the counters and the island.

“Why, Scarlett, you’ve been baking!” He pointed to the racks as if counting. “There must be ten dozen cookies, at least.” He turned and stared into her eyes.

Her heart did an involuntary little flip. “Baking calms me. You know that.”

Oops!
She’d slipped up again. Now he’d think she was nervous about seeing him. Which, of course, she was.

“What are you going to do with all these cookies?” His gaze flicked to her midsection.

“Eat them all myself,” she said, deadpan. No she wasn’t going to eat herself into oblivion and a spot at Weight Watchers over him, if that’s what he thought. He could just dash any fantasies about her being an old, fat broad he was lucky to have ditched. She stared back at him, trying to keep her lips from twitching at the thought of disappointing him.

He must have seen her trying hard not to laugh. He broke into a smile himself. “Seriously, who are they for?”

“Little Jessica next door. Her class is having a bake sale. Her mom’s out of town and her dad can’t bake. I offered to help her out.” She shrugged as if to say
No big deal.

“Uh-huh.”

In front of her, he was almost salivating. Oh, yeah, he loved her baking. One more thing he should have thought of before putting NCS, the spying arm of the CIA, before her.

She took pity on him anyway. Though she’d intentionally made cookies so the house would smell of tempting vanilla and chocolate, in the end no one could call her a hard woman. “How about taking a few off my hands? I think I overdid it.”

She headed to the pantry for a plastic bag without waiting for an answer. “Your box is on the table if you want to take a look. Are you staying with your parents while you’re here? I imagine your mom won’t be happy about fitting another box into the garage—”

An explosion cut her off midsentence as she reached for the pantry door. Behind her, she heard the tinkling rain of shattering glass. Something whizzed past her head, buzzing like a bee about to sting. She reached instinctively to swat it away.

“Get down!” Drew tackled her from behind with all the finesse of a quarterback sack.

Her breath left her body with an unflattering
oomph
as her ribs hit unyielding ash. Her cheek smacked the cold floor and throbbed on impact. Wood flooring wasn’t exactly cuddly and soft like her microfleece sheets.

Neither was Drew as he covered her with his hard body. Her heart pounded wildly in her ears over the hum of a lawn mower somewhere outside. She couldn’t catch her breath.

Another gunshot sliced through the door above her.

Much as she wanted to blame her difficulty breathing on the wide, tight belt she wore, it accounted for only a small part of her problem. Fear, the weight of the man on top of her, and her physical attraction to that particular 180 pounds of maleness accounted for the rest. She needed a nice, safe, boring boyfriend. Maybe an accountant or an engineer—one with no enemies.

As the nerve-racking silence stretched out, Drew remained in place longer than strictly necessary.

“Off!” she finally managed to mutter, fighting panic. Another minute of this intimate position and she’d do something she’d regret.

He rolled off, next to her. “You okay?” He covered her hand with his and squeezed it in a tender gesture that reminded her of better times between them.

Did he have to do that, try to comfort her? His compassion and concern made it even harder for her catch her breath.

She pulled her hand from his and inhaled deeply, still reeling from the attack and Drew’s touch. Her cheek began to throb again, along with her ribs, wrists, and elbows. She’d be bruised, but she’d live.

“I’m fine. Thanks for making me a part of this.” She was trying to be brave and make light, but inside, she was trembling.

“You’re welcome.”

She started to push up on all fours, feeling as wobbly as a partially filled water balloon.

Drew shoved her back down, none too gently. “Stay down.”

She glanced up at the pantry and the newly splintered bullet holes at head height. Not the conversation piece she dreamed of for her kitchen. Too Bonnie and Clyde for her tastes.

Still stunned, she looked at Drew. “Two to the head. Someone wants you dead, execution-style.” She used her
What else is new
tone, because it was better than screaming like a panicked maniac. “You owe me a new door and window.”

Drew peered back at her and shook his head, obviously thinking she was deranged. He pointed up at the holes. “Me? You’re crazy.
I
wasn’t standing next to the pantry.”

He’s right
. She went so cold, she felt almost numb. The men he played with wouldn’t make a dumb mistake like shooting at the wrong person.

She flashed back to Paraguay and drug lord Beto Bevilacqua, the Brazilian Bevil, as Drew called him. Beto had tortured Drew’s location from her and sent his death squad after Drew and his fellow agent Jack Pierce while Beto stayed to finish her off.

Emmett’s team had burst in just in time to save her from Beto’s knife. After they subdued him, Beto looked her in the eye and smiled. “I’ll get you yet, bitch. Pray you die now. This was mercy compared with what I’ll do to you next time.”

Then she blacked out. The next thing she knew she woke up in an American hospital.

She hadn’t believed the Bevil’s reach was this long or that she was important enough to come after.
Until now.
But who else would want her dead? Another of Drew’s enemies?

Next to her, Drew watched her closely, compassion and worry in his eyes. “You sure you’re okay? You’re pale.”

She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and nodded. “As well as can be expected after being used for target practice, yeah.”

“Take your time. Breathe deeply. You’ll feel better once you get over the shock.” He gave her a lopsided grin that was probably meant to cheer her up. “The pale feeling will pass. And then you’ll get mad. Anger is better, believe me.”

Drew pulled his cell phone from his pocket. She couldn’t believe it—he was actually dialing for help? In the spy world, that was practically like asking for directions. Taboo even in a spur-of-the-moment danger situation.

If Drew was calling for help, she probably should panic. “Who are you calling? Spook central or the cops?”

“Neither.” He showed her the screen of his phone.

A security feed of her house, inside and out, and the surrounding area scrolled past.

“The bastard’s good at hiding,” Drew said, studying the screen again. “He’ll have left a clue. He can’t have gone far. We’ll get him.”

“You promised me you’d never look at the security camera feeds again. I changed the security code.”

He shrugged. “As if that could keep me out.”

“Hey!” Her anger rose out of nowhere, just as he’d predicted. She smacked him in the shoulder, hard.

“What?” He rubbed his shoulder, looking surprised her outburst was directed toward him.

Good.
Domestic fury felt better than fear. Drew was right about that, too.

“You promised,” she said, realizing as she spoke how lame she sounded.

“I lied.” He didn’t wince or look sorry in the slightest. “What? I was supposed to leave you to the mercy of my enemies?”

She glared at him. “What about the cameras in my bedroom?”

He grinned. “Of course I watch those. Enemies
love
pouncing on sleeping victims.”

“Damn it, Drew. Exes don’t have peep-show privileges.” Her voice had gone hard and icy, veering way off from her
Make him sorry
plan.

“Kidding.”

She didn’t believe him.

Drew pushed to a squat, carefully avoiding glass splinters. “Stay put while I investigate.”

Not being the brave, charge-into-danger type, she wasn’t going to argue with him. “Be careful. What if it’s Bevil or one of his contacts?”

Drew stared at her. “I can handle myself.”

“It’s dangerous weather out there. Take a weapon with you.”

He flashed her a glimpse of his handgun.

She should have known. “And what am I supposed to do for protection?”

He handed her a razor-sharp butcher knife from the block on the counter.

“Brave man, handing me this after telling me you’ve been watching me sleep. You’re taking your life in your own hands, buster.” She stared at the knife in her hand, then up at him. “What if I turn out to be a backstabber?”

He looked her right in the eye and laughed. “I like to live on the edge. Besides, cutting up raw chicken gives you the willies.” He lowered his voice into the sultry range. “Tell me, could you really stick a knife into the hot flesh of a man who’s given you so much pleasure over the years?”

Stupid, smart-ass nearly ex-husbands.

She swallowed hard, hoping he hadn’t noticed her reaction to his words. She lifted her chin. “Don’t tempt me. Just because I prefer ready-roasted fryers doesn’t mean I don’t know how to use a knife.”

He smiled and shook his head.

“If that’s what you really believe,” she said, “you’re leaving me with a weapon that’s about as useful as if it were made of rubber.”

“You’ll get over it if it’s your life or his.” Then he laughed and sneaked out with all the stealth and confidence of a commando on the prowl.

“Y’all come back now, you hear?” she called after him, trying to sound braver than she felt.

*   *   *

Every sense on alert, Drew slipped outside, careful to take cover. All quiet on the intruder front. Not a footstep, not a breath that wasn’t his. Not another shot. Nothing but a gentle breeze, the sound of his neighbor mowing his lawn, and the pleasant call of a robin.

There were no curious neighbors out. The sound of the lawn mower had masked the sound of the gunshot and the window exploding. Only the two of them, who’d been in the same room as the window, seemed to have heard it.

Drew doubted the sniper had lingered once he and Staci dropped out of sight. Still, he had to check. He pulled a tiny pair of spy-grade high-powered binoculars he kept on his key chain from his jean pocket and surveyed the area.