Undercover Engagement (2 page)

T
he late summer sunset cast a pink hue over the sky and reflected off the calm waters of Utah Lake. Jason flashed a pass at the Provo guard station and the unkempt state park ranger waved us under the red and white striped security arm thing-a-ma-jig.

Pulling into a reserved parking spot, he gave me an it’s-going-to-be-okay smile and jumped out. Alone for a moment in the car, the dash dark, I felt betrayed. I mean, I thought my future was as bright as the silver edging around the console; my relationship with Jason as stainless and stain resistant as the leather seats. I was wrong. It was all an illusion.
How many lies? How many half-truths? And how much was actually true?

The car didn’t have the answers any more than I did. It could find me an Italian restaurant or calculate how long it would take to get to Canada, but it couldn’t take away the ache that came from being misled by the one person I trusted to the point of being vulnerable.

Huge sigh
. 

Jason opened my door, waiting for me to climb out. I felt a special kinship with the Dodge seeing her dented and damaged like this. “I know how you feel,” I said as I touched my side of the spidery window.

Jason pulled out his phone, texting, his thumbs a blur.

I watched Jason, his head down as if he were focusing on his text, but his eyes were constantly moving. His cover was so smooth, his posture complaisant. If I wasn’t looking for the variant in his behavior, I don’t think I would have ever seen it. I never saw it before. I had to have noticed, on some level I knew there was more to Jason. I knew he was a man of secrets, but I’d figured they were regular guy secrets like a trail of broken hearts that led him to me. I never imagined it would be something outrageous like undercover work or espionage or whatever it was that he did. I narrowed my eyes. My list of questions was growing by the minute and I was going to get some answers or – or what?
Was I willing to walk away from him – from us – if I didn’t like what I heard? 

I turned to survey the damage to the vehicle. I couldn’t think about three months, three weeks, or even three days from now. Right now, I had to deal with what was in front of me. Even though what was in front of me made me want to punch the guy with the gun. Besides the holes I’d counted in the car windows, there were several dents the size of my fist running along the passenger side of the car. I clutched my purse to my chest. “I should be dead.”

Jason laughed. “Not likely. That’s ballistics proof glass; with alternating layers of acrylic and tempered glass.” He ran his hand along the dented side panel. “Bullet proof armor lines every inch. Gas mileage stinks, but this thing is a tank.”

I patted the top of the car. “I knew I loved you.”

Two beeps from Jason’s phone got his attention. He checked the screen. “She’ll be fixed and ready to drive in twenty-four hours. Until then, we need to lay low.” He walked to the rear wheel on the driver’s side. I heard a ping. He straightened up. “Spare key box,” he explained, “so the repair company can get inside.” Circling around to my side, he flipped the passenger seat forward and grabbed the handle to my overnight bag. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” I tried to play it cool – act like it was no big deal to be shot at on my way to my parents’ house for the weekend.

Crap
.

“My parents.” I threw my hands in the air.

“Relax,” said Jason, as he took off at a brisk walk. “They didn’t know we were coming and they won’t miss us if we don’t show up.”

“Right.”
He was right. They had no idea where I was or who I was with. Perfect. Barring any unforeseen work catastrophe, like the Japanese market collapsing, work shouldn’t be looking for me either. I was officially off the radar with an international spy as my date.

Despite the warm air, goose bumps crawled up my arms. No one was looking for me and I was headed to an unknown location with a man I, apparently, didn’t know.

I took in the way his short sleeved polo shirt stretched over his biceps. His muscular physique, as attractive as it was, carried an overture of danger I had previously been unaware of. Sure, I’d been plenty aware of his body in other ways, ways we curbed until the wedding night. No wonder he moved so easily through any crowd or group, he could probably kill someone with his bare hands. The thing that bothered me was that I’d never felt danger when in his arms.
Why didn’t I sense something, anything?

The harbor was busy with evening summer traffic. A cluster of boats waited to exit the water and smattering of trucks with boat trailers waited their turn for the boat ramp. Everywhere I looked, people in swim suits and burnt skin worked to get off the lake as the sun set. I looked out of place and conspicuous in my gray pencil skirt and purple button up shirt with rhinestone buttons. Not to mention the three inch heels that echoed as they hit the thin wooden planks on the dock. 

Jason led the way to a line of boats in reserved slots.
Slips, I think they’re called.
A few of my clients from Santa Barbara owned slips for their yachts. They weren’t easy to come by and without the right names on the title, when you died they reverted back to the city to be sold at inflated amounts.

This dock was less than spectacular, but the boat Jason pulled the cover off looked fast. It was white with black and charcoal colored flames on the side. He stowed my overnight bag in a compartment under the seat cushion and his just under the steering wheel. Turning, he offered his hand to help me step into the water craft.

I hesitated. “This is your safe house? Isn’t it kind of, um, easy to get to?” I looked around at the hundred or so people within hearing distance. All it would take was one scream and the whole harbor would turn in my direction.

He looked around to make sure no one had heard me. “Can we talk about this in the boat?”

I still didn’t move to take his hand.

“Alyssa, I know I have a lot of explaining to do, but I need to get you to a safe place first. Please, just trust me.”

Looking down at him with his outstretched hand I remembered the warm feeling in my heart and the soft tears that formed when he’d knelt last night and asked me to marry him.

Call me reckless, call me crazy, call me stupid; but I got in the boat.

B
y the time Jason maneuvered the boat out of the slip, a yellow moon peeked over the Wasatch Mountains and the shadows were long.

Jason flipped the lights on as we passed the Utah State Park Patrol through the no-wake zone. I stood next to him at the helm, the sun’s residual warmth brushed across my cheeks as we headed due west.

In other circumstances, the night after an engagement would have been full of long kisses and promising words. Taking a boat out with my fiancé would have sent butterflies through my veins. Funny how being chased by assassins can kill the romance.

When the sun disappeared, dark colors splashed across the water. Jason killed the lights and the motor, leaving us dead in the water. I shivered. I’d always had a healthy respect for open water and didn’t like the idea of drifting around in the dark.

He flipped a few switches and we pushed forward once again, this time without the loud roar of the engine. I cocked my head. I could feel the motor running, but I couldn’t hear it. The water was calm as we shushed along. Unless the harbor patrol fixed us with a spotlight, we were pretty much invisible. 

We doglegged left, heading towards the blinking red lights of a radio tower that stood high on a hill in the middle of nowhere. Once we reached the shoreline, Jason maneuvered the boat around the land, through the cattails, to a private dock. I never would have found it in the dark. Shoot, the dumb thing was so well camouflaged it would have been almost impossible to find in the middle of the day. Even being brought right to the dock, I could barely see it. Jason secured the boat, grabbed our bags, and tossed them on the narrow walkway. Once we were both out of the boat, he covered it with a camo-printed cover. 

After a short walk we came upon a run-down double-wide trailer. The 80’s blue siding curled back at the corners and the windows were foggy with age. I bit my tongue. It looked like one of the places where they film cop shows. The ones where the creepy stalker guy lives with his faithful guard dog and the dead bodies wrapped in cellophane were stashed under the floorboards. The whole place gave me the heebie-jeebies.

Jason peeled back a section of the siding to reveal an electronic key pad with card reader. He swiped a card from his wallet through the slot. There was a metal scraping sound and several beeps before the door swung open.

“Ladies first.” He gestured gallantly towards the door.

Sure, send the
girl
into the creepy shack first.
I groped my way forward in the black waiting to bruise my shins on a low table or feel the soft squish of a dead mouse beneath my shoes.

Click.

I jumped as light filled the space. Pressing my hand to my chest, I turned in a circle. The room was gorgeous, even though it was decorated in rustic male. The room looked like the inside of a Park City lodge. Soft lights; deep reds, blues, and greens; a bearskin rug; over-stuffed leather furniture. It was “wealthy ranger” meets “tasteful decorator.”

Jason opened two doors off to the right like fancy patio doors that both swung open. The high-tech office hummed its hello. He pushed three buttons on the desk and a holographic screen popped up. I saw an official seal through the back of the transparent screen.

“Wow.” I eyed the office with tech-envy. Every surface had a purpose. Electronic graphs, maps, and unopened files hovered, waiting to be accessed. Jason had the information world at his fingertips. My name was on a screen behind him. “What’s that there for?”

He looked up from his security retinal scan. “Maybe you should wait in the kitchen.”

Obviously he wasn’t going to volunteer any information at this point. Even though he told me he would. In my mind, I’d waited long enough. He opened a drawer and took out a pad of paper before giving me an aren’t-you-leaving look.

“Fine.” I spun on my heel, wishing I dared slam a door.

Sure, I snapped at him. I was totally entitled to pull some attitude after what he’d just put me through. I wandered through the house. There were two bedrooms in the back, one shared bath, and a kitchen and dining area. Not a lot of extra space, but it was all as nice as the first room I’d seen. I ran my hand along the top of a picture frame. No dust.
It’s probably scared to settle here.

The cupboards were well stocked. I found a triple fudge brownie mix and set to work. The fridge was as full as the pantry – thank goodness. Without fresh eggs, I could forget my attempt at chocolate disillusionment. The Styrofoam egg container made a squeaky noise when I slid it out of the fridge. For a brief moment I wondered, who bought the eggs? I looked over my shoulder. Then I pushed the question aside. It was one of those things I wasn’t sure I cared to know.

I tossed together a spinach salad and some Alfredo. Checking the clock, I pulled the brownies out of the oven. They smelled emotionally distracting. I grabbed a spoon out of the drawer and dug in, blowing on each mouthful a good three times before chancing it.

“Brownies for dinner?” Jason accused. He swaggered into the room like he owned the place. Technically, he did, but when a woman’s angry, she owns all the space around her. And, since I’d christened the kitchen, he’d better tread lightly.

“Yep,” I said between bites.

“So what’s this fancy green thing for?” He pointed to the spinach salad.

“Guilt aversion,” I confessed.

“Great.” He grabbed a spoon and went for the brownies.

I pushed his hand away. “Oh, no you don’t. You have to earn these. Brownies cost information and the return on investment isn’t that great. Start talkin’ Buck-o.”

“Buck-o?” He looked amused at my tough-girl act. It probably did amuse him, we both knew he could take my brownies at will although I was betting he wasn’t ready to pull out the combat training for box-mix chocolate. My homemade brownies, now those were worth fighting for.

“It sounded good in my head, so I went with it.” I smirked.

He brushed the back of my arm with his fingertips, like he had a hundred times before. For a moment, we weren’t spy and captive, we were fiancés and I really wanted to spoon feed him chocolate and let him kiss me. The timer went off above the stove and I turned to pull the fettuccini off the burner. He stepped back, giving the captive the space she needed.

“Can I have some of that or do I have to swim across the lake and back first?” He took two plates from the cupboard by the sink and set the table.

“I guess.” I served the food while he found sodas and silverware. I gave him an extra helping of spinach salad because I knew he didn’t want to eat it, but would to make me happy.
Soooo passive-aggressive.
With the brownies, I wasn’t at all subtle. I placed the pan on my side of the table, just out of his reach.

He offered a blessing. When I opened my eyes to his loving gaze, I longed for a life with him. The life we planned together full of quiet couple dinners, Saturday nights on the couch with a movie, and one day a couple of kids to complete the perfect portrait. Well, I had planned on it. I wasn’t exactly sure what his plans were anymore.

We each took a bite. “Start talking, Buck-o.” I glared across the table.

He drummed his fingers while he chewed. “I started working for L.O.O.T. –”

“Loot?” I butted right in. If I was going to understand all of this, I wanted to know every detail right from the start.

“Leading Overseas Offensive Team. We’re big on acronyms.  So, I started there right out of college.”

“CalTech?” I interrupted again. I felt like a colt taking her first steps on uneven ground and I mentally stuttered forward.

“Yes, that much is true.” He smiled. “Anyway, at first, I did computer stuff. Breaking through terrorists’ firewalls, cracking codes – the basics.”

I nodded like I had any idea what "the basics" of spy work involved.

“Then, one afternoon, I took an assessment test and the next thing I knew, I was on assignment in Japan.” I looked hard at him. “I can’t tell you what the assignment was.” He shoved a fork full of noodles in his mouth.   

“I didn’t expect you to.”

He gave me a yeah-right look.

“Anyway...” I prompted.

“Anyway, since then, I’ve gone on a lot of missions. All of them successful. Each time making more enemies.” He drank his soda. “This was just another assignment – until I met you.” He slapped his hand on his leg and then pointed at me. “You screwed everything up.”

“Sorry.” Sarcasm is one of my best traits.

He ignored my jibe. “I had my cover. Wealthy Christian boy who wanted to expand his portfolio and was looking for new representation.”

We’d finished the real food and he eyed the brownies. I put my hand in front of them and shook my head. He hadn’t spilled enough beans to earn dessert. He sighed. At the sink, he washed his plate then came back for mine. I found a towel to help dry.

“So you’re not really a Christian?” The hurt inside grew. I’d been an idiot. I thought I’d found Mr. Right only he turned out to be Mr. Pretend. How could he toy with me, with my love, like that? Collateral damage. Was that all my heart was to him?

He wrung out the dishcloth and set it to dry. “That’s a whole other story.”

“Why don’t you back track and cover that one first?”

Jason walked into the living room and sat down on the leather sofa. Grabbing the brownie tray and my spoon, I followed after him. At the doorway, I glanced down the hall. I could just go into the bedroom, shut the door, and in the morning he would drop me off at my parents’ to start the healing process. The pan felt cool now against my angry palms. I opted to hear him out since I’d come this far. Either way, he wasn’t getting my brownies.

Once I had a mouth full of goodness, Jason continued, “As part of the prep for any mission you have to become a character. For this one, they wanted me Christian. I read through several websites. I even read anti-religion literature.” He traced the stitching on the cushion. “But, when I started reading the Bible something happened inside of me. My work had toughened my heart, but reading the word of God softened it again.” He looked away from me, his eyes seeing the past. “I knew I couldn’t turn my back on what I knew to be true, so I got baptized. My boss thought it was just part of the cover. No one questioned me. For the first time in my life, I felt whole.” His eyes came back to the present.

I shoveled in another spoonful.
So lady like!

“I didn’t see any problem continuing my job. Church attendance would be somewhat sporadic when I was on assignment, but I was sure I could work through that.” He stretched his arm across the back of the couch and played with my hair. “Then, I walked into your office and realized my life would never be the same.”

I tried to chew around the huge bite in my mouth. Sure, I should say something sweet back, but I couldn’t get past my binge. Our love wasn't a job to him! It was a game changer and that made all the difference to my fragile heart. He laughed at my apparent struggle to down a mouthful of brownies and declare my undying love.

I finally swallowed and said, “You think you’re so good, try eating this.” I shoved a huge spoonful in his open mouth. He looked surprised. It was my turn to laugh. I covered my mouth with my hand and giggled.

He grabbed both my wrists, pulling me in for a tight-lipped kiss. I couldn’t resist and the tension left my body. He let me go and I flipped to rest my back against his chest with his arms around me. I cut out another brownie and held it over my shoulder for him to take a bite. He did, kissing my ear on the way. Thrills went up my arms. I remembered the day I walked into the conference room to meet my new project.

Devin, my boss, warned me about the “spoiled, rich kid looking to up his net worth.” I was used to pampering clients so, I hadn’t given it another thought, until I saw him. His physique was hard to ignore. He looked like he’d been on the thin side most of his life and filled out well as he aged. His dark hair hung past over his ears, it was slightly wavy and styled with just enough imperfection to let me know he’d done it himself. His turquoise eyes enveloped me the moment we made contact. I’d done a complete profile on the guy and knew he wasn’t married. Girlfriend? Possible. But not likely the way he touched my hand.

Our meeting was on the slim side of productive. After half an hour reviewing his current holdings he asked me to dinner. After dinner, he’d almost kissed me, backing off at the last second. My confusion showed. I’d wanted that kiss. I wanted to kiss him from the moment we met.

“I can’t kiss a good girl on the first date,” he whispered in my ear.

Sure you can.

I would have let him. But he waited until our third date. By then I was sure I’d built the kiss up so high in my mind that I was going to be disappointed. Not true. He was way better at kissing than even I could have imagined.

I set the brownies, er, crumbs, aside as he continued with his story.

“I planned to get out after this mission, conveniently relocate to Utah, marry you, and live happily ever after.”

His fingertips brushed against my arm. I shivered.

“Why don’t you?” I twisted so I could see his face. Our future was still there, we just needed to grab on with both hands and not let go.