The End of You: A Single Lady Spy Series Novella (The Single Lady Spy Series Book 3) (2 page)

His
name was Servario, Gustavo Servario, and he was a very bad man in all the right
ways.

Before
my eyes drifted farther than his hands on my bag, he turned and walked from the
airport. That was his way of telling me I had to come with him.

He
was the double agent every woman wanted to date, or just fuck. But he was also
the international millionaire bad boy that every woman in the world, who was in
the know, wanted to love. And just for me, secretly and on a level of down-low
I didn't even understand, he was the man who had been in love with me for
years, watching from the shadows and protecting me.

My
footsteps followed him, my vagina tried to convince my feet to run, and my
heart desperately wanted to turn and go the other way.

Being
around him was nearly impossible. He was the choice I was never going to make.
I was a mom and daughter and an agent. Those didn't match his cover—international
arms dealer who dabbled in human trafficking and drugs.

It
wouldn't have been so bad had he not loved his cover like a real job, but he
did.

Every
step my ballet flats tapped across the airport and then the parking lot went in
the wrong direction in my opinion.

When
I got to the black SUV with the tinted windows and the door wide open, I
contemplated running in the other direction. Being alone in a car with him was
never a simple car ride.

Taking
a large, deep, dissatisfying breath, I climbed inside and let the driver close
the door. I didn't turn my head to look into Servario’s hazel-green eyes. I
knew what lurked in there. He had a history of speaking with a stare. In my
peripheral I could see his dark hair was a little long for him. Normally, he
kept it short but it seemed to be playing with his ear, resting there with
promises of feathery tickles. His skin was paler than normal. Usually he was
tanned. Being Italian-Serbian made him a candidate for a year-round summer
glow. He wore pale-gray slacks, like he had the first time we met. The way they
fit him, you knew they were custom made by the very best Italian tailor.

His
shoes were deep-burgundy Italian leather, shiny to the point I could see the
back of the seat in the reflection. He wore a steel-colored dress shirt, opened
at the top so you got a glimpse of the places your fingers naturally wished to
explore.

The
man was sex. He breathed sex. Lived for sex. Made you obsess about the type of
sex you would have with him. The heat radiating from his body next to mine made
me uncomfortable in a variety of ways. The main one was the way my thighs
clenched together and my vagina begged me to just strip down and let him force
me into positions I wasn't comfortable with.

“Hello,
Evie,” he spoke softly but the confidence was there, even in a whispered
greeting.

I
nodded, forcing my eyes to focus on the back of the seat in front of me.
“Hello, Servario.”

His
hand moved from the bag. It didn't pause or hesitate. It moved directly to my
leg, landing on my knee. He burned me through my pants as he trailed his fiery
touch up the inside of my thigh. His hand tickled as it climbed up my leg. My
lips parted, my heart pounded, and my insides twitched with the temptation he represented.
He wasn't the serpent in the tree, he was the apple.

When
he reached the top of my leg, the highest point he could inside of my thigh, he
brushed his pinkie finger along my groin. I sucked my breath like a fool,
letting him know how desperate I had been for his forbidden touch. He lowered
the finger again, delicately and yet with enough force that I could feel every
small touch he placed upon my underwear and what was beneath.

He
didn't speak or tell me how much he had missed me in the days we had been
apart. He didn't try to convince me to run away with him. He didn't offer me
the world. He was painfully realistic in what he offered—momentary bliss
and then forced abandonment. And for whatever disgusting reason, I wanted both.
The ecstasy of the fucking was just as sweet as the longing for the next time.
I actually enjoyed the torture of waiting for the moment we would be alone and
he would be inappropriately forward and convincing.

His
finger ran up and down me, hearing nothing more than the initial gasp from me.
I nearly held my breath trying not to let him see how obviously affected I was
by even the slightest touch.

We
drove a short distance to a sight I still hadn’t grown accustomed to, a private
runway. Servario didn't like anyone to know where or when he was traveling. He
liked to keep his movements unpredictable. His private jet was something I had
grown familiar with in the last few months as we had become intertwined in each
other’s lives, professionally and privately.

When
the driver stopped the SUV, I glanced at him, finally taking his beauty in and
letting my eyes wander his handsome face. “New plane?”

He
nodded, smirking. I knew what he was thinking. His eyes were practically giving
me the details aloud. He licked his lips, taking his bottom lip in his mouth.
“I’m going to have to give you a tour of this one.”

My
insides jumped. I nearly abandoned my bag and ran from the runway, screaming
and begging for mercy. The first time I had ever been truly fucked by a man, it
was on his last plane. It was the first time I knew what it meant to be
consumed by a person.

Clearly
my expression had answered his request. He laughed, nodding. “Relax, Evie. You
know how much you like to fly.” He climbed from the SUV on his own accord as
the driver got the door for me. Servario carried my lime-green luggage on
board, not looking back to see if I had fled into the forest.

I
sighed, hating how predictable I was, and followed him onto the new jet plane.

It
was smaller than the previous one, seating only a dozen. The back of the plane
seemed to be too large for it to end in a door. I had to assume there was
another room back there.

I
sat in a seat, not near the one he had put my luggage on, and buckled myself
in. When the door was closed the engines started and I turned my head, assuming
it was now safe to talk. “Where the hell is everyone else?”

“They’re
coming. We will meet them in Dubai. I have a meeting and you will be my
assistant.” He smiled from the bar at the back where he was mixing a few
drinks.

My
eyes narrowed. “What? Does Coop know?”

His
smile turned into a grin, a grim one. “He does now. I imagine the orders have
come down the line to him.”

His
words brought a sigh from my lips. “You have to be kidding me. You mean he and
Luce and Jack will be coming to Norwich, waiting for me?”

He
shook his head. “No. They were found in Heathrow and redirected from there.”

I
turned in my seat, staring at the movie screen at the front of the plane. It
was a wide-screen TV. Servario had never seemed like much of a movie buff but
the large screen made me think otherwise. There was a hallway at the front of
the plane, obviously the pilot’s area and maybe a washroom.

I
folded my arms as Servario came and sat next to me, placing the cocktail on my
tray. He sipped his scotch, rattling the ice in the glass. The tension was
thick enough to get lost in. The heat of his body next to mine in the seat was
enough to drive me to naked madness. I turned sharply. “Why are you doing
this?”

He
shrugged, sipping his drink. “I thought maybe we could talk.”

I
rolled my eyes. “You don't talk.”

He
reached into the back of the seat in front of me, pulling a folder from the
pocket in the chair and placing it in front of me. I stared at it for a long
second, worried as to what I would find inside.

He
seemed pleased with himself. It dawned on me then, he had pulled the folder from
this seat, like he knew I would sit here. I hated being predictable.

I
lifted my glass, chugging back the cocktail and passing it to him as I opened
the folder. The last time anyone gave me a folder, it was to show me images of
my husband and my best friend having an affair. Needless to say, the idea of
opening folders made me sick to my stomach.

When
I lifted the beige cover of the folder I paused. The image was one I didn't
expect. I turned to him, almost scared to ask, “Why do you have a picture of
Coop’s sister?” She was the one I had assumed was one of us, an agent, but Coop
had sworn up and down that she wasn't.

He
didn't answer right away. He looked into my eyes, searching for something. “She
works for a man I know. Just thought that perhaps you might want to know about
this, before something unfortunate occurs as a result.”

My
mouth went dry. “She’s an agent?”
I knew
it!

He
shook his head. “She’s not. She’s sort of the opposite of that.”

My
mouth got drier. I reached for his scotch glass, taking it in my hands and
lifting it to my lips without taking my eyes from his. “She’s a double agent?”

He
shook his head again.

“FUCK!”

“Don't
swear, Evie,” he warned as he nodded, realizing I understood what he was trying
to say. She was a bad guy, selling information to the wrong people. She and
Coop came from a long line of agents. And Rachel was the one sister I assumed
was one of us. She just made me think it. Coop believed her cover story of being
a clumsy, whimsical, artsy photographer. I think they all believed it. I think
I was the first person to see past it, see it for the act it was.

“So
she sells secrets, like James had been doing?” James, my dead husband, who had
betrayed the world and me with it.

Servario’s
stare answered for him. He neither nodded nor spoke.

“How
long has this been going on?”

He
shrugged. “I know the man she works for. I would assume a while.”

I
almost gagged. My insides burned for him—for Coop. I knew this pain. I
knew what it felt like to know the person you trusted and loved had not only
betrayed you but endangered your life and the lives of millions—billions.

“Why
are you showing this to me?” If I knew anything about Servario it was that his
desire to fuck with me was stronger than any other desire.

He
pressed his deliciously sexy lips together and sighed. “Do you recall when I
hung you out to dry, as you so eloquently put it, and left you to fight for
yourself so I could save your children?”

I
nodded, recalling hating him for leaving me to die but stunned he had been
worried about my kids. He had left me to survive on my own, something I hated
about him.

“Well,
I moved quickly, ensuring the kids and your mother were safe. I discovered
Rachel was responsible for your locations being leaked. She is the reason your
cover was nearly blown. She was also the reason you were on that boat to fight
for your life. She sold you and Coop out to James.”

I
paused.
The information on the phone—the
phone he had traded me for once.
“This was the secret on the phone that you
traded me to James for? You wanted his informant?”

He
nodded slowly. “She double-crossed us all in Split. You were meant to be taken
to a brothel and sold into sex slavery. I had guys there who would break you
free and help you kill everyone in the brothel. When you never showed up I used
the new information I had to discover Rachel, Coop’s sister, had sold us out.
She was working with James at the time. He sold her out for you, not caring
about anyone but himself. He wanted you more than anything else.”

My
insides twisted into a knot. “How could you let us go to Coop’s parents’ house
and not tell me?”

“I
was watching. I was hoping she would slip up but she never did. I needed all
the evidence I could gather on her; young Cooper isn’t going to trust me just
because he has to. He will think I’m up to no good.”

I
tilted his glass up and finished off his scotch with a shiver. As I brought it
down he grabbed my face. The kiss he forced on me was unexpected, and yet the
most welcome feeling in the world.

The
glass fell to the floor as the jet plane took off. Servario cupped my face
desperately, sucking my tongue and caressing with his. Our mouths fought the
force of the takeoff, frantically clinging to each other. It was madness.

I
was dating Coop and despised cheating, but in my heart it didn't feel like
cheating. Servario had told me he loved me long before any claim on my heart
was made by Coop.

I
had told Servario I loved him too. He had tried to force me to take it back but
I couldn't. I loved him, even though he was seedy and wrong for me. He
unbuckled my seat belt and his, lifting me into the air and walking, stumbling,
to the back of the plane.

He
pushed us through the door I had pondered, violently slamming it with a rough
kick. I broke from the intense kiss to see a small bed and a closet full of
women’s clothing. I sighed, “You put a bed back here?” My mood started to drop
off.

He
nodded, his eyes filled with passion and his lips moving as if he were going to
say something but he didn't.

“You
are such a pervert. Seriously? Who puts a bed on a plane and a closet full of
women’s clothing? You make me sick.” I shove and wiggle until my feet touch the
carpeted floor of the shaking plane.