Love & Deception (Agents in Love - Book 1) (7 page)

“I thought you left because I suggested we
come back here and cuddle.”

Cuddle, my foot.
“That also had
something to do with it.”

“Damn. You’re the only girl to ever reject
me. Am I losing my touch?”

Suddenly, it made sense why Stephen wanted
to be with her. It had nothing to do with being hired to kill her.
Heck, it didn’t even have to do with her. She was the first woman
he couldn’t charm. It must be a devastating blow to that enormous
ego.

“Stephen, there’s nothing wrong with you.
You know that. Women are lined up, just waiting to be noticed by
you.”

“Except you.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to date
you, but I could still use a friend.” The words left her mouth
before she took time to think about it, but she wished she hadn’t
said them. Carlie didn’t want to be his friend.

“Do you mean that? No hard feelings between
us?”

Well, friendship was better than fighting,
so she nodded. “We’re fine, just no more name calling, okay?”

He leaned over, squeezing her empty hand in
his. “Forgive me?”

Hastily pulling her hand from his grasp, she
nodded. “I’m tired and need to get some sleep,” she said, eager to
get away from him. “Please tell me you didn’t drive here.”

“I took a cab. Probably can’t get one back
this time of night, but I think I’ll walk home. I need to clear my
head.”

“I’ll drive you.” With her fears calmed and
her adrenaline slowing, Carlie once again noticed the bite of cold.
Stephen wore a hooded sweatshirt, but it wouldn’t keep him from
freezing since the wind had picked up.

“Are you sure?” He stood and held his hand
out to help her up. “I don’t want to be a bother, but it is pretty
cold.”

She accepted his help, dropped the pepper
spray back into her purse, and fished out her car keys. “If you
behave yourself, I might even slow down when I throw you out of the
car.”

He grinned. “Friends always behave, even if
I do still find you incredibly attractive.”

Sighing, she led the way to her car. Knowing
Stephen, he wouldn’t be able to help himself from making more
passes at her, but now she understood where his attraction came
from so she could handle it. The forbidden was always a tasty
fruit, and Carlie wouldn’t give Stephen what he wanted.

If she continued seeing Nick, she knew he
wouldn’t like Stephen hanging around or claiming a friendship with
her—he’d made that pretty clear. She’d have to worry about his
reaction later, though, since she couldn’t do anything about it
tonight.

At least Stephen wasn’t a hit man. She could
be friends with anyone, as long as they weren’t out to kill
her.

***

Nick sped down the dark streets. Another
half hour had passed and Carlie still hadn’t texted. He had paced
his hotel room, telling himself she met up with Muhammad to discuss
their plans to destroy America. Eventually he couldn’t handle it,
and the worry gnawing on his gut turned to fear.

She never displayed impatience about being
with him tonight, and she had texted shortly after leaving Carlie’s
Creations. Since he knew how long the drive to her house took, he
was sure she sent a message as soon as she got home, as promised.
If she planned to meet Muhammad, wouldn’t she have been anxious to
get rid of him? Plus, a smart person would wait for Nick’s return
text and tell him what time they should meet, not leave him to
worry when she didn’t respond.

From his observation, Carlie always took
other people’s feelings into consideration. He couldn’t imagine her
not answering if she was able. Something happened to her. Even
though Nick Kendall, S.A.T.O. agent, shouldn’t care about the
safety of his target, as a man, he couldn’t stop thinking about
holding her tonight while they danced, being in her company.

Knowing there was a second agent in town
somewhere put more worry on Nick’s shoulders—especially if that
agent was Stephen Chance. Also, Paul said he had an idea to hurry
the investigation along. Who knew what the boss might order to
accomplish that? Paul jumped to conclusions just because Carlie
supplied food to Muhammad’s charity. In Nick’s eyes, that didn’t
make her a terrorist; she could be completely innocent, even if
Muhammad was an actual terrorist. He needed proof, one way or the
other.

After an eternity, Nick pulled along the
curb in front of Carlie’s house. No lights were on in the house and
her car wasn’t in the driveway. He shook his head at his own
stupidity. He should have followed her tonight, not let her drive
off by herself. Mindful of his obligation to call Paul and not
wanting Carlie to become suspicious if she saw him follow her, he’d
headed home, satisfied with the foundation he started on their
‘relationship.’

Where could she be? In the month he’d been
in town, Nick had refrained from breaking into her house, not
wanting someone to see him and report back to Carlie, ruining his
chances of gaining her trust. Tonight might be the night to take
that chance. Especially if she was in trouble and something in the
house could help him find her.

Nick stepped out of the car and crossed to
the sidewalk, searching for any sign of movement inside the house.
Maybe Carlie wasn’t with Muhammad. Perhaps Shelley called with a
dating emergency, and she rushed off to help her friend. And maybe
that’s just where Nick hoped she was, because he liked her, and
didn’t want her to be one of the bad guys.

Nick made his way to the front door and rang
the bell. There was no movement inside. Glancing around, all the
other houses on the street looked dark. If he picked the lock,
maybe no one would notice.

Then again, if she pulled up and discovered
him breaking into her house, he’d never earn her trust. And he
needed that. If Carlie were involved with a terrorist group, he
wanted her to recruit him to the cause; then he could discover the
main players.

One more call couldn’t hurt. Maybe she’d
answer this time. He touched two on speed dial and waited for the
call to connect. From somewhere in the darkness, Beethoven’s Fifth
Symphony played. After four rings, Carlie’s voice came on the line,
“Sorry I missed you. Leave a message.”

Nick pushed end and then connected to her
number a second time, slowly walking down the stairs. The music
began again, and he made his way across the grass, spotting
Carlie’s pink phone cover. He pocketed his phone before picking
hers up.

Ignoring the growing sense of dread causing
his fingers to fumble, he examined the phone, relieved to find it
wasn’t the kind that required a code to open. He searched the call
history, hoping to find a clue as to where she went. The missed
calls from him showed up, three calls marked with Shelley’s name,
two from Muhammad, and further down, some from Stephen Chance the
week before.

He checked her text messages, but either
Carlie frequently erased them or she didn’t text much. The
conversation with him was the only one in the memory.

Now he had to acknowledge the thought
flirting through his mind ever since that classical music started
playing. Did someone take Carlie? Was she in trouble?

His biggest worry was that Stephen had her.
Whether or not he worked for Paul, that piece of shit would love to
get his hands on Carlie. Even more worrisome was if Stephen somehow
factored into Paul’s new plan.

Nick hoped she left with Muhammad and just
dropped her phone, but he couldn’t stop the trembling of dread
within him. Paul was unstable lately. What if his other agent had
her? What if the boss didn’t want to wait for proof of her
guilt?

Carlie pulled her car into an empty spot at
Stephen’s apartment complex. “Can you make it inside okay?” She
pressed her lips together, wishing she hadn’t said that. It seemed
like an offer to help, and she didn’t want to go in his place.

“I’m not sure. I’m a little woozy.”

Lovely.
She forced a smile. “Is there
a neighbor who could help you?”

He pawed at the door, missing the handle.
“Don’t worry. I’ll do it myself.”

Carlie wondered if his drunkenness was an
act, since he’d seemed sober before they left her house. Then
again, she wasn’t heartless enough to let him struggle twenty steps
from his doorway. A few more minutes, and she could head home.

She sighed and got out of the car, walked
around the back of it, and opened his door. “Let’s get you
inside.”

He smiled, and his eyes did seem unfocused.
Maybe now that they stopped fighting and he didn’t have to be
coherent, Stephen was buzzing again.

He reached for her. Carlie slipped her arm
around him, pulling outward as he tumbled from the seat. He leaned
heavily into her and Carlie struggled to help him upright.

“What did you drink tonight, anyway?”

“A fifth of vodka.”

She leaned him against the back of the car
and shut his door. “I’m not a drinker, but isn’t that a lot?”

“Itsch...It’s fine.” He slapped her face in
a drunken attempt to pat her hair. “I’m glad we’re friends, Carlie.
I think I love you.”

Sighing, she slung his arm around her
shoulders and wrestled him away from the Camry. Why did drunken
people always feel a need to profess their love? “Let’s get you
inside.”

He shifted his feet slightly and Carlie
practically dragged him. The sidewalk from the parking lot to his
building seemed impossibly long. Thank goodness he lived on the
bottom floor.

He frequently brushed his hand against her
chest on the way, and she knew she should have let him stumble
along by himself. Her strong urge to help others was not always a
good thing.

They finally reached his door, and sweat
trickled between Carlie’s shoulder blades despite the cold wind.
Stephen wasn’t a light man.

She propped him against the wall. “Give me
your keys.”

He lazily slapped the front pocket of his
pants. “There here.”

“I’m not going after them.”

He wobbled on his feet, but pulled the keys
out and handed them to her. “You’re no fun.”

“Nope. None at all.”

She made her way through each key until
finding the one that turned the lock, and then opened the door into
the darkened apartment. Behind her, Stephen took a step forward but
stumbled into her back, pushing them both through the entry.

“Oops.” He wrapped his arms around her and
managed to keep them upright. “Sorry, Carlie. I’m not impressing
you tonight, I guess. The liquor hit me harder than I thought.” He
let go of her and turned on a light, revealing his cluttered living
room. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

“You better head to bed. You’ll hate
yourself in the morning.” She hoped he had a pounding headache for
his effort. Although she didn’t want him as an enemy, she disliked
his attitude toward women in general, and her in particular.

He took a step into the hallway, but tripped
and bashed into the wall, sliding to the floor. “Can’t make it that
far.”

Carlie was torn between leaving him there
and helping him to his room. When did she become babysitter for the
drunk and stupid? Then again, it would only take a few more seconds
to help him. She pushed the front door shut and leaned over
Stephen, starting the laborious job of pulling him to his feet.

The door at the end of the hall led to a
bedroom with a king-sized bed inside. She dropped him onto it, but
Stephen grabbed at her arms, pulling her down with him.

Quicker than a drunken man should move, he
shoved her onto her back and climbed on top of her. “You’re always
so good to help people, Carlie. I’ve been trying to get you in this
bed for months.” Magically, he no longer slurred his words, and
anger welled up inside her.

“Bastard! Get away from me. I thought you
needed help.”

He pinned her beneath his weight and
laughed. “I do need help, love, and you’re just the woman to give
it to me. I trained you for weeks and got one lousy date. You never
even gave me a goodnight kiss.”

“Stop it, Stephen. I’m not attracted to
you.”

He shrugged negligently. “There are two ways
to do this, love. I don’t mind how we get there.”

His lips crashed into hers and he forced his
tongue into her mouth.

***

Nick was glad he investigated the people in
Carlie’s life and knew where they all lived. He had to find her,
and his first stop was Muhammad Khan’s place. After pulling up at
the small, white house, he raced to the front door, pounding on
it.

Who cared if the lights were off and it was
after 11 at night? Nick clung to a desperate hope that he’d find
her in the house plotting terrorist activities—that Paul didn’t
have something done to her.

Nick repeatedly slammed his fist against the
door. It flung open, revealing an unhappy man.

Muhammad hastily pulled his robe closed over
boxer shorts and looked at Nick blearily. “Some people do sleep,
you know?”

“You really were sleeping?” Nick’s heart
fell. If Carlie wasn’t here, Paul’s other agent must have her.
“Damn it!”

Muhammad wrapped the belt around his robe
and tied it closed. “You’re Carlie’s new friend, right? What are
you doing here?”

Why the hell couldn’t Paul trust him to do
his job? If Carlie was guilty, Nick would find the proof so she
could be prosecuted. The way her phone was left in the yard, it
appeared Paul had her abducted—all while keeping Nick busy in his
hotel room.

He ground his teeth together. Knowing what
the boss ordered done to a fellow agent, he didn’t want to think
about what could be happening to Carlie.

Muhammad shifted in the doorway, drawing
Nick’s attention. “Is something wrong with her?”

Nick shook his head. “I don’t know. I can’t
get a hold of her.”

He shrugged. “I’ll give her a call, but
she’s probably home in bed. We have an early morning.”