Under the Covers (19 page)

"Look, you dirt-eating fucker, she thinks I've been rolling in the sheets with the two of you, and unless you tell me different, I have to let her keep on believing it." He speared the fingers of one hand through his hair, clamping down on his skull before it exploded. "Shit. I don't care what everyone else thinks, but Bree? That's unacceptable."

"Sit down, Drew." Celeste patted the spot next to her on the bunk. "I'm not wild about people thinking I'm part of a ménage, but until this is over, I don't see we have much choice."

"We have a choice. We have to tell Bree the truth." He directed his argument to Sean, the one person with the authority to grant him what he wanted.

"And what happens if we let her continue thinking this? Will it affect your mission in any way?"

"Hell, yes! She thinks I'm a pervert or something. She probably wouldn't ask for my help if Cannon tied her feet to a dirty bomb and threatened to drop her from an airplane." Her words came back to him.
Can't or won't? Trust
. "I need her to trust me."

Silence fell in the cabin. Sean tucked his fingers in the front pockets of his cargo shorts and lounged nonchalantly against the built-in cabinets across from Drew. He'd seen that look hundreds of times, could almost hear the wheels turning as Sean worked out the pros and cons of telling Bree.

Drew held his breath, making his own decision regardless of what Sean said. "I'm telling her. That's it."

"Do you think it's wise?" Celeste asked.

"I don't give a shit. I won't let her go on thinking I've been cheating on her with the two of you."

"Maybe there's a compromise here," Sean said.

"Like what?"

"Maybe if Celeste spoke to her, told her what the two of you once had is over. She wouldn't have to confirm or deny your past relationship, just make it clear that it's over. Kaput."

"That could work, Drew." Celeste jumped to her feet, ready to carry out her next mission.

"Maybe. It still doesn't address the trust issue. She thinks I've been lying to her, and I have, just not about what she thinks. Fuck. No matter what I do, I'm screwed."

"She means that much to you?" Sean asked.

Did she? He couldn't get her out of his mind. When he was away from her, he constantly wondered what she was doing. Wondered if she was having fun, or if she'd moved on and left him behind. The latter possibility scared the shit out of him. When this was over, he wasn't letting her out of his sight for the rest of their lives. "Yeah, she does." He nodded. There was no hope for it. "I love her."

Silence descended on the cabin again. Drew had to admit, it was a hell of a time to blurt out something like that. He should have told Bree first. She deserved that much. She deserved the truth.

"Let me talk to her." Celeste's gaze traveled between Drew and Sean. "If I can't get her to at least believe this supposed threesome is over, then we'll consider telling her everything. How's that?"

"I can live with that," Sean said. "Drew?"

It wasn't the full disclosure he was hoping for, but it would have to do. He knew better than to try to budge Sean off a course of action once he'd committed to it. That he'd gotten this much out of him was a coup. "Yeah, we can give it a try." He turned to Celeste. "Don't screw this up."

"I won't. I promise. I'll have a girl-to-girl talk with her. I'm good at evading when I have to, so leave it to me. I'll go in there, tell her we're through, and have been for a long time. It's the truth. I'll leave the details about how long to you." She glanced at Sean. "Is that okay with you? We'll let Drew be the one to give Bree the details, when and if he deems it necessary?"

"Just as long as the telling doesn't compromise the mission."

"It won't." Celeste looked at Drew for confirmation.

"It won't," he promised.

****

Bree didn't try to hide her surprise when Celeste joined her in the line of workers waiting to fill their plates from the al fresco buffet set out for their mid-day meal. "I thought you'd left."

"I wanted to talk to you, privately."

They inched closer to the buffet. She hoped Drew hadn't told Celeste what she'd said, but they were close. Lovers close. "About?"

"Why don't we get something to eat and find a quiet place."

It wasn't a question. And since Bree's presence on the island was dependent on the cooperation of the owners and their representatives, she had no choice but to go along. She pushed the food around on her plate. She'd lost her appetite the moment she'd noticed Celeste in line behind her. They'd once been partners and friends, but with what she knew now, she could barely stand the sight of the woman.

"Bree, I want you to listen carefully. I know you've heard some rumors, and I want you to know that whatever I—we, Sean and I—had with Drew, it’s over. It has been for a long time."

Her gut twisted. Here was the confirmation that there was, or had been, something going on between the three of them. "How long?"

"That's for Drew to tell you, when he decides the time is right. I just wanted you to know. I think the world of Drew. He's a special man, in more ways than you know. Trust me, Bree. You can't believe everything you hear. There's a grain of truth in all rumors, but I can assure you, in this case it's a microscopic grain."

Bree tore the flour tortilla on her plate into long strips, then tore the strips into confetti. Her heart wanted to believe Celeste. But Drew hadn't denied the rumors, and if you listened close, Celeste wasn't denying them either. "What part is true?"

"I can't tell you. No, that isn't exactly true. I
won't
tell you. I think that's between you and Drew. He loves you, Bree."

She really was going to be sick. Hearing those words from Drew's other lover felt wrong. Not that she believed them anyway. "No, he doesn't. He loves you. He always has."

"That might have been true once. Perhaps it's still true, but I can assure you he's never loved me the way he loves you. I've known him a long time, Bree. Longer than I've known you, and I've trusted him with my life on numerous occasions. I'd still trust him with my life, and he'd do the same with me. But his heart was never really mine, and I've never had room in my heart for him in the way you think. I love Sean. Always have. Always will. That doesn't mean I don't love Drew. I do. But what little we had together is over."

"You aren't going to tell me what you had with Drew?"

"No. That's between you and Drew. I will say, when he decides it's the right time to tell you, remember the kind of work we did together. And put yourself in my place."

Having delivered her cryptic message, Celeste left without another word. Bree stared at the mess she'd made of her plate, knowing she'd made a bigger mess of her life. Did Drew love her? She thought back over the years she'd worked with Celeste at the FBI. The woman was an excellent agent, and she was quick to credit Sean and Drew with teaching her everything she knew. Bree had never had any reason to doubt Celeste's word. So could she now?

What was she going to do about Drew? Could she believe him? Why hadn't he simply told her this himself, rather than asking his lover—former lover?—to do the job for him? The more she thought about it, she was all the more convinced they were both telling her only part of the truth.
Why
was a question she didn't know if she could get around.

It all came back to trust. There was something neither Celeste nor Drew felt they could trust her with.

The hell with them. The hell with them all. She had a job to do. Apparently, neither one of them trusted her to do that either. Why else would Drew be here, but to babysit her? She was too smart to ignore the benefit of having a man with Drew's talents around in a dangerous situation, but that didn't mean she was going to use him. Not in any way. No matter what her body said to the contrary.

The sooner she finished this job and moved on to something bigger, the sooner she could find a man who would trust her with everything.

****

Two fucking days. He'd been on the island for forty-eight hours, and Bree hadn't said a single goddamned word to him. So much for Celeste's girl talk. As far as he could see, it hadn't made a damned bit of difference. Bree still treated him like a walking STD, and there wasn't a thing he could do about it. Celeste hadn't clued him in on what she told Bree. When he'd asked, she told him to ask Bree.

Yeah. Like that was going to happen.

He doubled-checked the wiring for the master system and pronounced it ready to go. What did he know about wiring? The crew would be installing the cameras in the main building next, and after that, the sensors around the island that would report human activity in places people weren't supposed to be. Protecting the power plant and the water supply were high priority. Without those, the guests and employees would be at risk.

Drew took the path toward the power plant. At least he enjoyed this part of his “real” job. Thinking like a man bent on mayhem and destruction kept his mind sharp. If he wanted to control a whole resort, how would he go about it? He checked the plans he'd brought along against the actual installation, noted a few spots he thought might still be vulnerable, wrote suggestions in the margins. Richard and Ryan had given them an open checkbook for the security system, and they were going to get the best he could provide for their money.

Instead of the path back to the resort, Drew turned toward Richard's house, situated on a rise in the center of the island. They hadn't begun the changes to the master bedroom suite yet, but it wouldn't hurt to have a firsthand look at how the new construction would affect the security system. Sometimes it was easier to spot the problems looking at the actual property, rather than the blueprints.

A shadow of movement behind one of the windows had him diving for cover near the end of the path. So far as he knew, no one was supposed to be at the house. He'd left Richard and Fallon in Miami a few days ago, and they had no plans to return to the island until the resort opened. Of all the construction projects on their list—the new resort, the two cabins on the
Lothario
, Ryan and Richard's houses—Richard's house was last on the list for renovation. However, someone was in the house, and they weren't even trying to be discreet. He crept along, out of sight from the windows as he approached the house. The front door stood open, and he eased inside. A door opened down the main hallway leading to the bedrooms, and Drew followed the sound. He'd gotten out of the habit of carrying a weapon aboard the
Lothario
, but Sean had provided him with a small arsenal for this assignment. He had a handgun in a holster strapped to one ankle, and a knife strapped to the other. The weight of the gun felt like an extension of his hand as he made his way to the back of the house on silent feet.

From studying the blueprints, he recognized the location and decided it was likely one of the construction crew come to check out Richard’s and Fallon's unusual lifestyle. The door had swung partially closed behind the intruder. Drew flattened himself against the wall in case he was mistaken about the person inside. He checked the safety. Odds were the intruder was harmless, but you didn't stay alive by taking chances. He leaned in so he could see into the room. He glimpsed a few items in the room and made a mental note to come back when he had more time to check it out for himself. He'd never been much into bondage, but that didn't mean he wasn't curious. Knowledge was power.

One booted foot came into view, attached to a leg encased in green cargo pants. It looked familiar. His eyes traveled up to the camo T-shirt and he relaxed back against the wall and silently returned his weapon to its holster.

Bree. Lately she'd taken to wearing the concealing outfit around the island. It wasn't a fashion statement. She was armed to the teeth, and the baggy garb made it impossible to tell. He swung around, keeping his body behind the wall in case she was trigger-happy, and pushed the door open with his foot.

"Hold your fire. It's me." When she didn't shoot, he eased his body into the door opening.

"Drew."

"In the flesh." She was downright adorable with a gun in her hand. She was running on adrenaline, and damn, he'd never seen anything sexier. "You going to shoot me with that?"

She looked at the gun in her hand as if she'd forgotten she had it, engaged the safety and slipped it into the holster clipped to the waistband of her pants. Pants he desperately wanted to get off her. She'd probably rather shoot him than let that happen. "No, not going to shoot you. Today. What are you doing here?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing." He glanced around the room, taking in the tools necessary to practice the rope bondage scenes Richard and Fallon were fond of.