The End of Me (The Single Lady Spy #1)

The End of Me (The Single Lady Spy #1) Page 13

I grinned at myself like a Cheshire cat, "Who better than to learn dirty shit from, than a bad man who I would end up killing anyway?"

I was letting my vagina do all the talking. I turned on the cold water and splashed it on my face and then pointed at my dripping face in the mirror, "Stop."

I distracted myself with the routine I used to do when getting ready, before marriage and yoga pants.

I put on body cream and deodorant and then styled my hair and straightened it. I ran my finger through the long, dark silk, it almost felt as good as it had when I was young.

I put on makeup and stepped back, looking down at my wedding ring and grimaced. I must have put it on subconsciously, again. I had been doing it for weeks. I pulled it off and put it in the drawer to prevent that same mistake. I would save it and give it to Jules when she got older, as long as she never found out the truth about her father. If she did, she might not want the damned thing.

I felt the need for a dirty, big cry poking around inside of me. I could probably save that for after I murdered the fat guy; I was going to need something then anyway.

I looked at myself appraisingly, I could do it. I could kill the fat man to save my kids. He was probably a bad man anyway. Nothing mattered but my kids’ safety. The whole point was that we would get through this, no matter what I had to do.

I left the bathroom naked and crossed to my closet, where I picked out some matching panties and bra. I slipped on a knee-length skirt and a pale pink blouse. I finished with ballet flats and walked out. I looked at myself in the mirror and nodded. I looked pretty but innocent. I had gotten the outfit at Target and hadn’t yet been able to wear it. It was a sensible choice; the flats would guarantee I could run and the blouse was baggy, in case I needed to bring a gun and have it tucked in my back.

Yay, all the old thoughts and all the old actions were fitting back nicely in my brain.

"You look pretty."

I jumped, "Stop doing that."

Coop grinned from the bed and watched me.

I scowled, "And get off my bed."

He laughed, "I came to tell you it was time to go and you streak across the room naked—and looking good by the way. I might take back that cougar comment, if I thought it might do me any good."

My face flushed, "You can’t take back cougar. That’s permanent damage." I turned and walked out of the room, forcing myself to chant cougar cougar cougar. I didn’t need to add young, hot agent to my list of things that triggered my instability and raging hormones. The adrenaline was getting to me. It was how James and I had hooked up in the first place. I had a thing for the thrill and the sex afterward.

I made it to the bottom stair before he was there. He grabbed my hand and spun me, "I'm sorry. I didn’t know that you didn’t know you were a cougar."

I gasped and dragged my hand away from him, "Cougars are forty. Forty and up."

He raised his eyebrows and then nodded, "Okay."

I felt the disgust creep across my face.

"You’re beautiful. You deserved so much better than you got in life." He sounded sincere. Of course he also sounded like I had one foot in the grave, no doubt because I was thirty-six. I was nearly retirement age, apparently. My eyes wandered the house briefly, terrified someone was watching us.

"How long have you been watching me?" I asked, starting to feel a bit weird.

He shrugged, "A while. We weren’t watching you though. We were watching him."

"Did you watch my kids in the bathroom and shit?"

He looked horrified, "What? That’s disgusting. What's wrong with you? No. No one watched the kids at all. Bathrooms and bedrooms had listening devices only. We aren’t perverts."

I put my hands on my hips, "I want whatever shit is still here, out of this house. No more bugs and cameras." I knew I had found most of them, but I didn’t want to chance that I might have missed some.

He closed his eyes and sighed, "You are so aggravating. I'm not even having this conversation." He turned and walked away.

I glanced at the clock and took a breath. "It's time to go," I said.

He came back in, "Do you know who the fat man is? He's a brother to an arms dealer in Havana. Dangerous family."

I shoot him a look, "You went thorough my purse?"

He shrugged, "You didn’t give it to me and I needed to see it, and you were in the shower. You took forever in there."

I shoved him but he grabbed my hands and dragged me into the broom closet beside him. In the dark he cupped my cheeks, pressing his face against mine. His lips were softer than I had imagined they would be. His hands left my cheeks and grabbed at me, pulling me into him. I didn’t fight it. It was the best kiss I'd ever had. I let him wrap around me, cupping my ass. Our lips glided against each other, from the gloss that lubed our kiss.

He sucked my lip in and nibbled it. I moaned into the kiss, as it got deeper. His tongue slipped against mine, caressing it. I sucked it, rubbing my body against his. My hands clawed at his chest like a real cougar would. I stopped kissing and listened to my screaming brain. One half was chanting cougar and the other half was already taking my blouse off.

I stepped back and pressed my back against the door. I felt around in the dark for the knob. I caught my breath, “Are you insane? You’ve insulted me like eight different ways since we met.”

"You need to be prepared for something like this.” He took a step closer, “Evie, we need to talk about the things that might happen," he whispered.

I shook my head, "Oh…uhm…no." I opened the door and turned running up the stairs.

"Evie, wait." He ran after me, but I slammed the bedroom door, locking it and running to bathroom. I closed the door and locked it. He was in the bedroom and banging on the bathroom door, by the time I turned the bathroom lock.

"We need to talk, not here," he spoke softly into the crack between the frame and door. Clearly all the listening devices were not gone. That wasn’t even counting the ones Servario might have in the house.

I looked at my smeared makeup and sighed. I glanced back at the door vibrating from his pounding on it and shook my head, "No. That was wrong on a whole variety of levels. Firstly, I'm apparently a million years older than you. Secondly, you called me a cougar. Thirdly, my husband might have died two months ago, or he might have just run off with his mistress. Either way, he has abandoned me. Lastly, his funeral was today, as was the first meeting with a man who is blackmailing me to murder someone." My hands were waving about like a maniac. I wiped my face clean and started reapplying the makeup.

"Evie, we need to talk about things for the mission." He sounded sweet. I wanted to open the door.

I looked at the blush covering my entire face, and the clock that said quarter past nine, and sighed, "I don’t want to talk about this. I'm emotional and this is wrong. I need to get Vegas over with." I knew I was rebounding on him from the rejection of my entire marriage being a lie and my being a moronic idiot, who was attracted to an arms dealer. Coop was the safer bet of the two men. And I was not even touching on the fact, I was about to become a spy and a murderer, or that my family was being flown to safety.

I ran the brush through my hair again and looked at the finished product. I was respectable again.

I readjusted my boobs, ‘cause they were not nineteen anymore either. At thirty-six, sometimes they got a little excited about what we were doing, and ended up out of my shirt. I was pretty sure they tried to jump in Coops face at one point. I touched the door and tried to swallow some of the humiliation I was feeling.

I opened the door and jumped back. He was standing in the doorway with his hands on either side of the doorframe, trapping me in the bathroom.

"We have half an hour before I leave and it's for sure a thirty minute drive," I said into his chest. I didn’t look up into his eyes.

He loomed over me, not budging. "Can we talk?"

I shook my head and tried really hard to stare at his t-shirt.

He tilted my chin and I burst into laughter.

He frowned, "What?"

I turned back and grabbed a tissue. I wiped the smears of makeup off his skin. His eyes were cold again and his voice a whisper, "We need to talk about that kiss, but not here."

I laughed, "It was just a kiss. I think you've kissed a lot of girls, Coop. You're pretty good at it."

He smirked and arched his eyebrows. His eyes were suddenly sexy and not cold at all. I rolled mine and pressed on his thick chest.

"You called me a cougar," I muttered.

"Grudge holder," he mumbled, mocking me.

I ignored him and walked out to the garage and got into the car, starting it as he jumped in the passenger side and laid the seat back.

"What are you doing?" I asked, as I backed out of the garage.

"Making sure you arrive safely." he grinned.

I sighed and backed out. I looked at the clock and glared, "Great, now I'm going to be late."

"Drive fast."

I grumbled under my breath and punched the gas pedal. I knew how to drive. I learned on a racetrack like everyone else. I just hadn’t done it in a long time.

"So are you scared?" he asked.

I shot him a confused look, "What is your deal? Are you bipolar? You were a dick to me and then you're kissing me, and now you're being sweet—why?"

He laughed, "I'm not bipolar. I'm just trying to mess with you. Get you back on your toes. The kiss wasn’t just me seeing you naked and wanting to kiss you. It was also a way to catch you off guard. You need to remember that training, wherever any of this goes. If fat man kisses you, he's going to be pissed if you freeze up like that. You're no doubt going in as a hooker."

I felt the horror in the truth and the fact I liked the kiss.

He continued, "You gotta be casual. You’re going to have to convince him you're something special. You're a bit old for a hooker. Most guys who want hookers are leaning more toward that barely-legal thing."