AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The scuffed black work boots immediately gave away the game. Half a block down and on the other side of the road, he leaned against the side of a shiny, black, expensive-looking pickup truck. He had his thumbs hooked in the belt loops of his dark jeans. A tight black tee shirt showcased his broad chest and rock-hard biceps, and his long legs stretched in front of him, crossed at the shank of those boots I’d know anywhere. Other than stupid-expensive black Oxfords and overpriced workout sneakers, those fucked-up boots were the only footwear he deigned to wear.
“Bastard.”
Obviously, he still read lips, as he slid his aviators slightly down his nose and peered over the tops of them, grinning at me.
I did the only sensible thing one could do when Derek Wilder was within a five-mile radius. I ignored him. I looked back down at my phone, hell-bent on disregarding the fact that my hands were trembling so hard I was having trouble opening the Uber app.
The phone rang in my hand and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
So much for years of training and field work. This was the problem. This was why X had split us up four months ago. Before that, we’d been partners for six months, the team with the highest close rate in HEAT. We’d also been up to our naughty bits in a steamy affair, and we’d been distracting each other. Not to mention breaking a shit-ton of company policies in the process.
I’d wanted to kill her on the spot at the time, but seeing how he could still get to me had me rethinking her wisdom. And he wasn’t even close enough yet for me to smell him or taste his skin or feel his…Holy hell. The phone was still ringing.
I answered it. “What the fuck?”
“I missed you, too, Cynthia. Or whoever you are today. Come closer.”
“Not a chance. I have my orders. X finds out I’m consorting with someone from my past and I’m dead.”
“X is in a chalet in the French Alps with a leggy blonde she met in Paris. Come closer. I need you.”
I dropped the phone onto the sidewalk. This was bad. So, so bad. Why in the hell had I thought celibacy was the right choice after X had split up our happy little team of two?It will focus me, I’d told myself.Help me get my head back in the game, I’d said.
I hadn’t counted on seeing him again. It wasn’t fair to be parked in front of a buffet of mouth-watering delicacies when you’re starving, knowing you can’t touch the goodies. And god help me, I wanted to touchallthe goodies.
I thought about making a run for it, but he’d already closed half the distance between us, and while some of my body parts were on fire, there was barely any feeling in my legs. I focused on pranayama breathing. Deep, even breaths. I slowly put one foot in front of the other until I was actually walking.
But dammit, I was going toward him.
“I wasn’t kidding,” he said. “I need your help.”
We stood a mere foot apart. I clenched my fists at my sides to keep from laying my palms against his chest, which gave the unfortunate appearance of wringing Mrs. Leary’s flamingos’ necks.
“I’m supposed to do a solo, but this target requires a team.”
I shrugged. “So get a team.”
He shook his head. “No one can get here fast enough, and you know how thin we’re stretched over the holidays.”
Adrenaline shot through me and my hands shook for a different reason. What the hell was I thinking? That I was bored stiff, and death at X’s hands was starting to sound better than a life with lawn ornaments. “What’s the play?”
“The Santa Baby.”
Aka the Drunk Deb, aka the Party Favor.
He grinned at me like the wolf to Little Red Riding Hood. “One of your best.”
And one of the easiest. I could do it in my sleep. Hell, I probably had. “All right, but if X finds out, it’s on your head. And I only have a few hours.” I held up the birds still clutched in my left hand. “And we have to stop somewhere to fix the flamingos.”
He raised his eyebrows but didn’t ask. “You and the flamingos get comfortable in my truck. I’ll grab the phone you dropped and make sure no one saw us together.”
Dammit, I’d been ready to leave my phone behind. Distracted. Totally off my game. “OK, but do not shoot any of my co-workers.”
“Would I—”
I quirked an eyebrow at him.
“Yeah, don’t answer that.”
