Love & Deception (Agents in Love - Book 1) (11 page)

He stood and walked to the mini fridge near
the doorway, grabbing water. He unscrewed the cap and took a drink.
When he returned to the couch, he sat further away, as though
sensing her nerves. “What did any of that have to do with you? Why
are assassins hunting you?”

At least he believed her. It hadn’t dawned
on her before just how far-fetched her life’s story sounded. “I’m
not entirely sure why,” she admitted. “Ryan’s uncle, the current
king of Maharla, forced him to marry me when he learned about the
pregnancy. Because King Zerach never had children of his own, Ryan
was next in line for the throne. If he wanted to keep his place as
heir, he couldn’t have a bastard child somewhere that might cause
problems later.” She sighed, ashamed once again for getting herself
in that situation. “At the time, I didn’t know all that. I thought
we were in love and Ryan was eager to be a father. In reality, the
king has strict ideas about what a proper heir should do. Ryan had
to toe the line if he wanted to keep his kingdom.”

“Things soured after the marriage?”

“It might have been okay, but seven months
into the pregnancy, I lost the baby.” She fought against tears that
always came when she thought about her daughter. “We had finally
agreed on her name the week before. Gabriela.”

Nick’s arms went around her, and he pulled
her into his chest. She bit back a sob, struggling against emotions
she’d stuffed away for nine years.

“It’s okay to cry, Carlie.”

She reached her arms around him, ignoring
the pain provoked by movement. Crying into his shirt, she managed
to hold back any sobs. Everything had been lost that day on the
operating table when they did an emergency C-section. That day, she
never guessed what a nightmare her life would become. She didn’t
cry only for Gabriela, but for herself. Sometimes she wished she’d
never met Ryan, never agreed to go to the party.

“Something went wrong during the surgery,”
she said when she’d calmed down enough to speak. “Turns out, I
couldn’t get pregnant again. Scar tissue or something. It was a
terrible disappointment to Ryan and his family.”

“Because a prince has to produce an
heir.”

“Ah. I see you’re familiar with
fairytales.”

He leaned back, half reclining, and pulled
her on top of him. He stroked her back, soothing her. “Not really
one for fairytales, but I do know politics.”

Carlie sighed and closed her eyes. She
breathed in Nick’s cologne and wished circumstances were different.
If she wasn’t living her life on the run, she could actually have a
relationship with him. Start rebuilding the dreams she’d given up.
For now, fighting to live and keep her sandwich shop running was
hard enough.

“When it became clear I’d never be able to
have a baby, things got pretty bad. His uncle questioned whether or
not Ryan could continue on as heir or if the position would be
given to his little brother. Divorce wasn’t an option in King
Zerach’s eyes, so Ryan was stuck with me. I tried to be a good
wife, but he didn’t make that easy.” She felt guilty admitting
that. She’d never told anyone the truth about her marriage. “Before
we resolved things, he died.”

“I still don’t understand why you think
someone wants to kill you.”

“Ryan’s death wasn’t an accident, Nick. His
car exploded. He was murdered.”

***

Nick stretched his mind, trying to remember
the details of Prince Rayhan’s murder. He couldn’t believe that was
what Carlie ran from, but who would make up such a story? It was
too specific to be a lie. With the details coming back to him, Nick
realized that also might be why she became involved with
terrorists.

“I remember the news reports.” He rubbed her
back, trying to ignore the way his body responded to the feel of
her against his chest. “Wasn’t there something about him receiving
death threats in the mail the week before his death?”

“Yes.” Carlie sighed heavily. “He tried to
take the letters to the police in Seattle, but they didn’t help.
Ryan said there wasn’t anything they could do, so his mom arranged
for us to return to Maharla. We were supposed to fly out the
following day. Ryan went to the airport that morning to check on
the arrangements for our private plane.”

“So it was Americans who killed him.” Nick
struggled to keep his voice level. He was finally getting
somewhere. “Must make you kind of hate the people in this
country.”

She braced her hand against his chest and
lifted her head. Nick tried not to notice how her eyes were
swelling shut and a bruise across her chin had darkened to a deep
purple. “You’ve got it wrong, Nick. It wasn’t Americans who killed
him.”

“But, the letters? I thought that was the
reason you were leaving, to hide from the Americans after him.”

“No.” She flopped her head back down, as if
she didn’t have the strength to support it any longer on her
battered neck. Her hand rubbed against the muscles of his chest and
stomach, and Nick found it hard to remember she was a terrorist.
“It was his countrymen who killed him. A war broke out and rebels
tried to kill the royal family.”

“What?”

“Ryan told me attempts had been made against
all his family members. They killed his younger brother, Prince
Ehud, two weeks before Ryan received the death threats. I guess it
took them that long to find him.”

It felt like someone plunged him into the
deep end of the pool and he forgot how to swim. If that were true,
Carlie had no reason to hate Americans—no reason to join with a
terrorist organization. Paul seemed so certain she was involved,
but Nick believed with his whole being that she told him the
truth.

S.A.T.O. became suspicious of her because
she popped in out of nowhere, had no past they could trace, and
they knew there was a terrorist cell in the area. Paul now made the
connection that pointed to Muhammad as the most likely candidate
for leader, but maybe Carlie wasn’t in cahoots with him. It was
possible she simply donated to a charity she thought worth
helping.

“Anyway,” she continued, unaware of his
inner turmoil, “Ryan’s mom flew in to take possession of his body,
and I wanted to go with her to attend the funeral and visit Gabi’s
grave.” Her hand stopped moving. “That’s when I found out my life
would never be the same.”

Small tremors fluttered through her body,
and Nick realized she was crying again.

“It wasn’t enough to lose my only chance at
motherhood and then be trapped in a broken marriage I couldn’t fix
no matter how hard I tried.” A sob broke in her throat, and she
clutched the fabric of his dress shirt in her hand. “Now, I’m
technically the princess of Maharla, next in line for the throne
since both princes are dead and there is no one else. Well, Ryan’s
mother, but she’s older than the king. No one’s happy about this
turn of events—not Ryan’s people and certainly not the rebel
fraction waging the war. Everyone would be happier if I were
dead.”

“You’re still princess?” Uncertainty bubbled
up from Nick’s gut. Was that the real reason S.A.T.O. investigated
her? It was possible the President knew who Carlie was, knew what
her power could be on the political field. Nick wondered if Paul
knew.

“I don’t want to be princess,” she
complained through her tears. “Ryan’s mom gave me money so I could
hide, start over. She told me never to admit who I was and to never
return to Maharla. We thought that would keep me safe. I’ve changed
identities so many times. I’ve never lived anywhere longer than a
year since Ryan’s death—usually less than six months.” She sobbed
again. “I don’t know how they keep finding me. Even my parents
don’t know where I am anymore.”

“That must be hard for them.” For some
reason, the mention of her parents caught him off guard. He’d been
trying so hard to think about Carlie as a target, he hadn’t let
himself consider her family.

“They take missions in southern Africa for
various charities. Last I knew, they were handing out medicine for
tuberculosis and vaccinating children against common diseases. I
call them on safe phones twice a year. It’s not as good as seeing
them, but it’s better than nothing.”

Nick had a sneaking suspicion her safe
phones might not be as secure as she thought. “When did you last
call them?”

“Right after I moved here, but I didn’t even
tell them I moved, Nick. They can’t be turning me in.” Her breath
hitched, as though this was a thought that had occurred to her
before, and she didn’t want to contemplate it.

“I’m sure you’re right, Carlie. No parent
would turn their child over to be killed.” He resumed caressing her
back, but this time didn’t fight the feelings of attraction stirred
up by touching her. She wasn’t a terrorist. He didn’t have to hate
her. “I think maybe their phones have been compromised. Every time
you talk to them, the assassins are figuring out where you are, but
it’s not something your parents are doing.”

What Nick needed to find out was why the
United States decided to get involved and help whoever was after
Carlie. If that was what they had done, why would President Sharp
care who led a small country in northeastern Africa?

The shaking in Carlie’s body finally
subsided, and she let out a long sigh. She relaxed her grip on his
shirt and smoothed the wrinkles down. “I decided if the assassins
found me again, I’d stand and fight. Take back control of my life.
I don’t want to be ruler of their country. It may be rich and have
a great agricultural system, but I don’t know anything about
leading people. All I ever wanted was to run my shop.” She pushed
away from him and sat up, wincing and taking a few deep breaths. “I
don’t know what to do.”

Nick glanced at his watch. It was almost two
o’clock. Carlie looked like hell, and he knew she probably felt
like it too. He fumbled in the basket for the pain medicine and
took out another one.

“What you do is take another pill and climb
into bed. Everything else can wait ‘til morning.” He handed her the
medicine. “I don’t think anyone will find you here, but I’ll
protect you if they do. You have to rest.”

She swallowed down the tablet with another
sip of water. “I’m supposed to meet Muhammad at six to do the
baking at Compassion For All.”

Nick shook his head. “You’re not going to
make it. I’ll set my alarm and call him around five-thirty. He can
find someone else to help.”

“I hate letting him down, but you’re right.
I won’t be helping anyone for a while. I don’t even know how I’ll
open the shop Monday.” She closed her eyes, but moisture leaked
from beneath her lashes. “I’ll scare my customers away.”

“So you’ll stay closed a few days. I’ll put
signs up tomorrow. Your customers will come back.” If he could
figure out how to keep her safe enough that she
could
open
again. He stood and held his hand out to her. “For now, you need to
rest so you can recuperate. We’ll figure out what to do later.”

She accepted his hand and he helped her to
her feet, noting the way she gritted her teeth. He led her slowly
to the bedroom, though pain was visible on her face with the way
she scrunched her eyes with every step. He wanted to carry her and
save her the pain, but the complete determination with which she
walked made him think she needed to do things for herself.

Stephen had beaten her down tonight, but
Nick had a feeling Carlie wouldn’t stay down long. A woman alone
and on the run for six years must be good at picking herself up
when things went wrong.

When they reached the bedroom, he turned
down the covers and stepped out of the way. Carlie lay on the sheet
and adjusted onto her side, curling her hand beneath her cheek. If
it wasn’t for the tears wetting the bandage on her face and the
purplish-black bruises coating her neck, she’d look peaceful.

Nick gently tucked the covers around her
body. “I’ll be on the couch if you need anything.”

“I don’t have a way to repay your kindness,
Nick. You saved my life.” She freed her hand from the sheets and
grabbed his, bringing it to her mouth and kissing his palm. “In the
morning, if you decide to take me home and wash your hands of this
whole situation, I really will understand.”

Nick dropped to his knees, putting his face
level with hers. Running his hand over her head, anger flared in
him when he had to avoid touching the area where Stephen ripped her
hair out. “I’m not going to change my mind about helping you. Don’t
worry.”

She smiled, and Nick was happy to see that
she still could after everything that happened. “Don’t decide until
morning,” she said. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“No. I already know what I want. I’ll keep
you safe and help you. One night of sleep won’t change my
mind.”

He leaned into her slowly, giving her plenty
of time to push him away. He pressed his lips against hers and ran
his hand down her torso and across her hip, desire tightening his
groin despite his need to stay objective. Then again, she wasn’t a
terrorist. He didn’t have to worry about kissing her, about how
much he liked it.

A soft moan issued from her throat and she
parted her lips and wound her arms around his head. Her tongue
darted into his mouth and wrestled a few seconds with his own.

He wanted to climb into bed with her, but he
forced himself to break off the kiss. Opening his eyes, he found
her staring at him. Nick ran his hand back up her body, pleased by
the shudder that went through her and the smile that again touched
her lips.

Gently stroking her uninjured cheek with his
thumb, Nick planted a gentle kiss against her forehead. “I better
get out of here and let you sleep,” he whispered and stood up.

“The bed’s big enough for both of us,” she
said. “It’s silly for you to sleep on the couch. I promise I won’t
hog the covers.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” He
tucked the sheet back around her. “If I climb in that bed with you,
I won’t be able to keep myself from touching you. And that’s not
what you need tonight.”