The Spy Who Left Me (41 page)

After being poked and prodded and pronounced fit and able to hear again, Treflee found Ty on the lanai, staring out at the ocean.

“You let Mrs. Ho go. You came for me first,” she said, tentatively, trying not to choke up.

“Yeah,” he said, and turned to face her.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” She could barely get the words out.

He smiled at her in the light streaming out from Big Auau. “What do you think?”

She threw herself into his arms. “I love you.” She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her head against his chest.

He responded by wrapping his arms around her. “Wow, I save you from a strangler, rescue you from drowning, scare off a vicious bike-wielding assassin, give you pearls, and take one to the leg for you, and still you want a divorce. I let a dangerous RIOT agent escape and you’re all over me. I’ll never understand women.” He sighed. “Does this mean the divorce is off?”

She squeezed him. “Let’s set the record straight. I wanted to call the divorce off after the pearls.”

“Give a woman jewelry and she’ll follow you anywhere!” He laughed. “You did a hell of a job as a spy. Ever thought about a career with the Agency?”

She laughed. “Never. Living with a spy is excitement enough for me. You were in Sugar Love, right? How did you escape?” She stared up at him as if he’d disappear again at any minute.

“Underground volcanic tunnel after I rushed Mrs. Ho.”

“And you just left her there and hurried to me?” She couldn’t keep the joy out of her voice.

“Yeah, you were pleading for help, remember?” He tipped her chin up, ready for a kiss. “Besides, Abi, Greg, and Kane had things under control.”

“Abi?”

“MSS.”

“Of course. Kane?”

“Conveniently there.”

She smiled and met his lips.

Carrie came out onto the lanai, and cleared her throat. “Get a room, you two. I have an important announcement. Wedding here tomorrow. You’re both invited. Attendance mandatory.” She was beaming ear to ear as she grabbed Tref’s arm and yanked her away from Ty. “Can I speak to you a minute? In private.”

Tref looked helplessly at Ty and reluctantly let go as Carrie dragged her into the empty dining room. Carrie nodded back toward the lanai and Ty. “Back with your husband?”

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. I’m a cop. I know how to sniff out the truth.” She put her hand on her hip. “Beach bum and tour guide Ty is your husband, Ty, no?”

Carrie had her.

“Wait a minute,” Tref said. “Did you happen to rifle through my room and look inside a certain locket on a particular charm bracelet hidden under a mattress?”

Carrie grinned. “You should find a different hiding place for your treasures. You’ve been hiding stuff under your mattress since we were kids.”

“Shoot.” Treflee caught Carrie’s arm. “Look, you can’t tell anyone back home about Ty being here or let the other girls know who he really is. The work Ty does—”

Carrie stopped her short. “Yeah, I figured something like that. Top secret work. Probably for the feds.” She punched Treflee lovingly in the arm. “My quiet little cuz is married to a secret agent!” She laughed and shook her head in wonderment. “Your secret’s safe with me. No one would believe me anyway. And the other girls? If they’ve figured it out, you can count on them to keep mum, too.” Carrie paused and gave Treflee the cop stare. “Still going through with the divorce?”

Treflee smiled. She couldn’t help it. “What is this, the Hawaiian inquisition?”

“The way you two look at each other hasn’t been lost on me.” Carrie winked at her.

“Divorce a secret agent? Heck, no. Someone would probably have to kill me.” Treflee laughed. “I’m not going to divorce him. Nor he me.” She grabbed Carrie’s arm.

“But let me tell our moms, will you? I’ve been in their doghouse over Ty too long. I could use a few brownie points.” Treflee shook her head as a thought occurred to her. “Speaking of your mom—as happy as she’s going to be about you and Kane, she’s going to kill you for getting married without her. She was hell-bent on seeing Hawaii. And Mom will be right behind her.” Treflee became serious. “You really
are
going to marry Kane? Do you love him?”

“Yes, and hell, yes. And Mom will forgive me when I explain how romantic Kane was when he charged in to stop the Chinese wedding with that crazy lie detector test to prove his innocence, and how he refused to wait another day to marry me. She’s a sucker for a love story with a strong hero and a happy ending.”

Treflee nodded. Yeah, she could see her aunt reacting like that. A romantic streak ran through the family. “Good. No doubts?”

“None.”

Treflee pulled Carrie into a hug, feeling a deep affection for her. “Be happy.”

Carrie hugged her back. “You, too. Now let’s get back to our guys.”

Greg stopped Treflee before she walked back onto the lanai. “We caught Mrs. Ho. Her chopper landed on a ship that was very fortunately
just
inside American waters.” He winked and handed Treflee a familiar blue legal file. “A gift from Emmett.”

Treflee’s eyes went wide. She recognized these. “
You
were the man in the hat at the lawyer’s office? Emmett ordered the theft?”

Greg grinned. “Forgive Ty, Treflee. The spying life is hell on marriages. I ought to know. My wife kicked me out, too.”

Treflee stared at the divorce papers. It took a minute to find her voice. “I will. I have.”

She looked Greg in the eye. “I hope things work out for you, too. I really do.” She paused. “Maybe Emmett can get your wife involved in a mission? It worked wonders for us.”

Greg shook his head. “Not likely, thank goodness. My estranged wife can’t lie to save her life. Or mine.”

Treflee blinked back tears. She gave Greg a heartfelt hug. He seemed embarrassed by the show of affection. When she released him, he gave her a lopsided grin and walked away. “Take care, Treflee.”

She found Ty still sitting on the front steps. She tossed the legal file on the step beside him.

He arched a brow. “Where did these come from?”

“Emmett,” she said without hesitating as she plunked down beside him. Well, it was true. Sort of.

He thumped the papers and faced her. “I never wanted this.”

“I know.” She paused. “I
was
going to return that device. I’d made up my mind I didn’t want the divorce, either.”

As he nodded, his eyes danced with desire. “I know.”

She reached around him and grabbed the file.

“What are you doing?”

“Making a grand gesture.” She struggled, trying to tear the file in half.

“Allow me.” He took the papers from her and ripped the stack in half with ease.

“Wow!” She squeezed his bicep and leered at him. “They teach you how to do that in spy school, big boy?”

“YouTube.” He made a neat stack of the papers.

“Hooray for YouTube.” She ran her fingers lightly down his sooty arm.

“Oh, you dirty girl.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. “You still look damn good in that dress. What do you say to getting clean together?”

“Only if we can get dirty after.”

“I say we keep it dirty during.” He ran his hands over her bare back.

Shivers of delight ran through her. He was good with his hands. This was just a tiny sample of his talents.

“Deal.”

“Love you, Tref.” He stared into her eyes. “About the baby—I would have been there if I’d known.”

“Yeah, I know. Mea culpa. I promise not to keep something like that from you again.”

“You forgive me?” His eyes pleaded with her.

She swallowed hard and nodded. “I think I understand about your work now.” She looked up at him with her best sultry, flirty look. “How do you feel about babies these days?”

He shrugged. “We could give one a try. But we’ll have to pray it doesn’t inherit the sticky-fingers gene from its mother.”

“Or the thrill-seeking gene from its father.” She kissed his cheek. “Glad you’re receptive to the idea.” She whispered in his ear, “Because I went off birth control when you left. The good time we had at the waterfall? I’m thinking that was day fourteen.”

“No.” His expression was priceless.

“Maybe.” She kissed his neck. “We’ll see in a few weeks. Tonight, we’ll just have fun.”

STINGER

CIA HEADQUARTERS

LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

Emmett Nelson leaned back in his high-tech desk chair with his hands behind his head and reflected on a mission well done. He’d just gotten word from the Pentagon that RIOT had hit dead air and made quite a splash in clear blue shipless ocean with an expensive new top secret Chinese missile.

Gave the navy a good look at its firepower and what it could do. They recovered a few good bits and pieces, too. Good intel for the Pentagon boys.

The terrorist chatter was saying the U.S.’s Pinpoint Project software was faulty. A scam. Trying to save face, are you, RIOT?

Emmett laughed to himself, pleased as he scanned his happily cluttered office. Organized chaos all around him—stacks of papers, his top-secret historic spy gizmos collection, books—mostly thrillers and an esoteric mix of nonfiction topics—superhero action figures. Not an empty surface in sight. Exactly the office one would expect of a creative mind.

His computer pinged. He had a new e-mail. From Ty. A picture of the happily reunited couple. Emmett ran a quick stego-detect on the picture. It revealed a message, “Mission happily accomplished.”

That’s my boy!

Emmett had known from the beginning Treflee was just the “agent” he needed to thwart Hal. No way Hal could have predicted her.

Emmett’s grin deepened. He hadn’t earned his reputation as the Puppeteer for nothing.

And what a damn good matchmaker he was, too. Ah, really, it was nothing. A little knowledge of the human psyche was all it took. He’d even forgive Ty his insubordination and Treflee the names she’d called him.

He picked up a pen and twirled it. The spying life was damn hard on a marriage. Emmett should know.

He turned his attention to the next firestorm brewing on the radar—a situation in Seattle that involved Russian RIOT operatives and the estranged wife of Agent Drew Fields, alias Greg the Hawaiian beach bum.

Funny thing—Emmett had just the man for the job.

Read on for an excerpt from Gina Robinson’s next book

D
IAMONDS
A
REN’T
F
OREVER

Coming soon from St. Martin’s Press

Drew Fields pulled to the curb and parked in front of his former home. He hated the bland, midsized sedan the Agency insisted he drive as part of his mind-numbingly dull, assigned cover life. A marketing manager for a microbrewery? Really? At least there’d be free beer. He hoped.

That was the Central Intelligence Agency for you. The government sanitized everything. Even his official title—National Clandestine Services core collector. He was a spy, a secret agent. What kid wanted to grow up to be a core collector? Sounded more like nuclear reactor work.

Which, come to think of it, pretty nearly described his mission to reconcile with his estranged wife. If Staci ever found out what he was up to, she’d explode. In epic proportions. And there would be fallout. Plenty of it.

He shut off the ignition. Next time he was going to insist on an Aston Martin DB5. A sexy car made up for a lot of crap.

He took a deep breath. How was he going to convince Staci he still yearned for her tragically? Especially after he’d agreed to the divorce without a fight. And why now?

They had an anniversary coming up a week from Friday. Maybe he could play off that?

In all modesty, he was something of a phenom when it came to lying, a natural talent. His inborn gift had gotten him out of more than a few scrapes when he was a kid, and even more as an adult. But there were limits to his ability. He wasn’t James Bond.

Drew had tried to convince his boss, NCS Chief and head spook Emmett Nelson, to send some other guy in to infiltrate Staci’s life. But Emmett held firm—Staci’s emotions were too raw. She wasn’t likely to start dating and open up to someone else so soon. It had to be him.

Stalling, and hoping to be clobbered by a stunning blow of inspiration, Drew studied the two-story house he still owned half of, looking for security lapses. Staci kept the bushes in front of the windows well trimmed and away from the house, and the sidewalk, driveway, and front entry clear of any hiding places.

She’d resisted her natural botanical urge to plant flowers and trees over every square inch of property and columns of junipers on each side of the door. Open spaces made for less stealth and more safety.

Before their marriage went sour, he’d picked this gated neighborhood for Staci because of its low crime rate and excellent security measures. A spy’s family was never one-hundred-percent safe.