The Spy Who Left Me (38 page)

So many brushes with death and seeing Ty shot and thinking he might die had irrevocably changed her, and reinforced her determination to win him back. At any cost.

She glanced toward the door. Speaking of Ty, he’d sworn to protect her. Why wasn’t he slipping through her locked door like the spook he was?

She tightened her grip on the sheet at her nose, feeling miserable and empty. She’d been trying to kick him to the curb for the better part of a year and now that she’d succeeded she was desolate.

It’s just that … she loved him, thrill-seeking adventurer and all. She simply
had
to win him back. Before he slipped back into the espionage ether again, lost forever. Even if she had to beg Emmett for help.

Emmett! Oh, boy. He really couldn’t afford to turn her loose into the civilian world now, not with all she knew.

The head of National Clandestine Services could surely do
something.
Emmett didn’t want this divorce to happen any more than she did. He surely had tricks up his sleeve, mind-altering techniques, maybe, to reprogram Ty’s psyche to forget how she’d hurt him and learn to love her again.

The door rattled gently. She wouldn’t have even noticed if she hadn’t been staring at it. Ty slid in silently and closed and locked it behind him.

“You’re back,” she whispered.

“Yeah, honey, I’m home,” he whispered back as he shed his shirt and dropped it on the floor by his side of the bed.

She hadn’t even startled him.

“What? No divorce papers on my pillow? I’m disappointed.” He slid under the covers as close to the edge of the bed and as far away from her as possible.

Treflee rolled over on her elbow to face him. “I didn’t think you were going to show up.”

“I don’t break promises. I don’t abandon missions.” He punched his pillow and turned away from her.

He’s abandoning his mission to stay married to me. And suddenly wanting to break that little promise about “until death do us part.”

She stared at his back, wondering how to engage him. He never slept next to her without wanting her. She couldn’t stand the heartbreak of his apathy. Before they married, they vowed never to go to bed angry at each other. She’d broken that vow a hundred times this past year. It stopped here.

She touched his shoulder. “Does the device still work?”

He stiffened beneath her touch. “Yeah.”

“Good. So we’re still on with the swap.” Refusing to back off, she reached out and cupped Ty’s cheek, wishing she could take away his hurt, itching to caress him.

He froze.

“I think I understand now about your job, the pressures, the reasons you can’t always be with me.”

He didn’t reply, but she sensed he was listening.

She bit her lip and took a deep breath. “I didn’t betray you.” Loyalty was king with Ty. There were so few people a spy could trust. “I didn’t steal the device. You have to believe me. Okay, I borrowed it.

“But I was going to put it back. I swear. I hate Zulu! I hate him because he grabbed me before I could put the data card back. Because that made you doubt me.” She sighed. “I wish you’d never known.”

Ty moved her hand off his cheek. “Give it a rest, Tref.”

She swallowed hard. “I should have told you about the baby.” Though she’d intended to sound calm, her voice broke. “You don’t know how sorry I am. The pregnancy was an accident. The miscarriage was an accident. This whole thing seems like a horrible nightmare. Can’t we just start over?”

“Go to sleep.” He sounded tired and hurt. “We have a couple of big days ahead of us.”

She wasn’t giving up. Tomorrow was another day. And she didn’t plan on either dying or giving up on her marriage.

*   *   *

Friday passed in a blur of briefing, planning, quick lessons in firearms and self-defense, and being styled and beautified by the talented Kiki. Ty took Treflee to town for the training, telling Carrie and the others Treflee and he had follow-up doctor’s visits. No one questioned them even though they were gone from sunup to sundown.

Friday night, Ty sneaked into Treflee’s room and bed well past midnight, waiting, she was sure, until he thought she was asleep. He should know her better than that. How could she sleep the night before her first big mission? And a wedding mission at that.

Heck, maybe she’d even catch the bouquet. She was eligible. Sort of. And as there were twelve bouquets to be caught, the odds were definitely in her favor. Unless Laci knocked her out of the way and claimed more than her share. Or she was discovered and dead, or being tortured by then.

Ty slipped into bed so smoothly, he barely bounced the mattress. He hovered so far from her at the edge of the bed, she was convinced Kiki must have outfitted him with Velcro briefs. How else was he staying on the edge?

For her part, she was barely hanging on to her nerves.

But being a spy
had
taught her one thing—if you want to succeed, you need to take risks. Put yourself out there. She rolled next to him, pressed up against his bare back with her breasts, and ran her hand over his shoulder, down his side to his waist—

He shoved her hand away before she got far enough south to find a hard package. “No sex before a mission.”

“Sex?” Even though she knew he was still hurt and angry at her, his rejection stung. She had to channel her inner spy girl to keep her hurt from showing and lashing back. “Just cuddling up for sleep.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Anyway, no sex is not how James Bond plays it,” she whispered in his ear. “A little tumble puts James on his game, eases the stress.”

Ty stiffened, but not in the right and enticing places.

“Bond’s a fictional spy.” He punched his pillow and stared at the wall.

Treflee fell onto her back and stared at the ceiling.
That went well. What is it going to take to win him back? Whatever it is, flirting with Hal tomorrow is not going to help my case.

*   *   *

The plan was simple—Treflee would stick to Hal like day-old poi. She would transmit and record every move he made with her trusty hot red organza hibiscus-flower hair-clip video camera studded with sequins and Swarovski crystals. Kiki had picked it out, probably from the most recent issue of
Vogue for Spies.
Though she might have bedazzled it herself. The hibiscus cam perfectly matched Treflee’s plunging red halter dress and coordinated with the color of her fingernails and toenails. And it was equipped with a tracking device, too. Yeah, a deluxe model.

Ty had a hand in picking the dress from three options Kiki presented during cover fashion selection. The dress was just a dress, no extra features, but Ty called it killer. Treflee called it a bra fitter’s nightmare—no back to the waist, very little front. Kiki shrugged as if it were no problem and gave Treflee plastic cups to tape to her breasts.

The cups worried Treflee. They weren’t the kind of lingerie that turned Ty on. And yes, she planned to ditch the dress later and entice Ty into some hot after-mission makeup sex. She just hoped she didn’t have to take him prisoner to do it.

When Treflee modeled the dress for Ty, he eyed her like a designer looking for flaws, not a possessive husband. “Lots of cleavage. Plenty of skin. Good. Epic. Hal’s eyes should be on you, not us. Should keep him distracted.”

Treflee should have been flattered. She would have been if Ty had been his usual self and had had that sexy leer in his eyes, that “I’ll grab you later and we’ll make passionate love” vibe about him rather than the cold calculation of a mission planner. She felt like a whore, probably because he’d dressed her like one. Revenge would only be sweet when she won Ty back and let the dress work its magic on him.

She wore a pair of black Havaianas, also studded with Swarovski crystals between her toes. Later Treflee could kick them off if she liked or dance until dawn. She just hoped Kiki had incorporated a handcuff key in them or an inflate-a-coat. Never knew when you’d need either of those.

Treflee would dance all right—once Hal and Mrs. Ho were behind bars and Ty was hers again.

And against Kiki’s fashion advice, she wore the pearls Ty had given her. Kiki had wanted her to wear a drop necklace instead.

While Treflee distracted Hal, Ty and Greg would be stealthily following up with everyone Hal came in contact with, looking to see if he’d made a drop. Using their magical spy skills and light pickpocketing fingers to swap the real SDXC card for the counterfeit one.

Easy, Ty had said.

Oh, sure. Easy if nothing went wrong. Easy if the evil Mrs. Ho didn’t get wind of the plan and off them at the buffet table or while they were enjoying a
jiu
at the open bar. Easy if Treflee’s video equipment worked like it was supposed to. But since when did video equipment ever do what it was supposed to? Some piece of equipment always screwed up. And hair clips? Don’t get her started. She hadn’t had a hair clip stay properly in place since first grade.

But her objections fell on deaf ears. Clips falling out of hair weren’t things spies worried about. She’d just have to cope. In the meantime, she obsessed about little things as she played with the charm bracelet Ty had given her, liking its jingle, jingle, jingle. About stupid things like why the bracelet hadn’t been in exactly the same spot under the mattress where she’d hidden it.

Ty came up to her as she stood on the Big Auau veranda waiting for her date for the wedding. She preferred her husband and wanted him again as petulantly as Scarlett wanted Rhett back.

Treflee fiddled with a gift she held for Abi and Feng, hoping they didn’t already have a monkeypod butter dish and koa wood butter knife. Then again, why would they? The guy in Lahaina had assured her they were unique.

Next to her, she felt Ty’s heat. She either won him back now, or he’d find some way to sign those papers before disappearing into spookdom for good.

The thought of reading about his happy nuptials to a femme fatale colleague in the latest NCS family newsletter totally depressed her. She wanted him, pure and simple. She just wasn’t sure how to get him back. He’d never been cold to her like this before.

If she could prove she was up to the spying life, that she understood now that sometimes he couldn’t help being absent, then maybe.

Ty pointed at the bracelet. “Where’d that come from?”

“You, baby. I take it everywhere with me.” She smiled sweetly.

He cursed beneath his breath, mumbling something about wives on missions.

“You shouldn’t be wearing it.” He didn’t sound particularly touched that she kept it with her at all times.

She jangled the bracelet for his benefit. “With all these charms for luck, why not?”

“Didn’t know you were superstitious.”

“Maybe I’m not. Maybe I just like having you near.”

He sighed and shook his head as if to say, oh what the hell. “Just don’t go waving my picture around.”

“On a date with another guy? Wouldn’t dream of it,” she said with complete honesty. “It’s not good form.”

Ty shook his head again and stared off toward the horizon. “Should be a great sunset for the wedding tonight.”

He looked handsome, but solemn, in profile. He wore flat panel slacks, a pale yellow tropical-print Tommy Bahama camp shirt, and crossover sandals. Perfect Hawaiian beach wedding apparel, compliments of Kiki’s keen eye for style.

Good grief! If Kiki dressed him every day, Treflee would never be able to keep her hands off him.

He held a pair of TV sunglasses, all the better for viewing her and Hal with. When he put them on he could watch TV in the corners of the lenses.

“Nervous?” he asked her.

“Yes.”

“Don’t worry, I have your back.”

“Good. It’s exceptionally exposed tonight, thanks to you. Retribution?”

His expression remained masked. “Good policy. Make him hot, Tref.”

Not exactly the kind of thing you like to hear from your husband.

She touched his arm and took a chance. “Ty, there’s no need to rush this divorce. Let’s sit on things. Try to work things out for the sake of your career. Emmett will be furious if we don’t. I know too much now. And you don’t want a failed mission on your record, do you?”

He didn’t reply so she kept talking. “I’m happy to go on as before. Emmett could find us a good marriage counselor, someone we could really talk to, someone from Langley maybe. Don’t say anything now. Just think about it while you’re off on your next mission.”

He stared at her. “I’ve never kept any secrets from you that I didn’t have to, nothing, ever, about our personal life. I’ve always had your back, Tref. The question is—do you have mine?”

She blinked back tears, but she wasn’t going to beg. He hated begging.

At the sound of a car approaching, Ty stepped back and cleared his throat. He nodded toward it. “There’s your date. Knock him dead.” He slid the sunglasses on.

She swallowed hard and tried to lift the mood. “Can you see me now?” She tilted her head so the flower cam took in her cleavage and the flowing skirt of her dress.