Poison Kisses: Part 2 Read online

  “We are not trying to kill each other.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “What changed while I napped?”

  “I realized that I can’t ask you to trust your feelings for me if I don’t do the same myself. Do I think that you’re guilty of any crime? No. Do I think you would cover for your parents? Yes.”

  “My parents—”

  “Are not what concerns me right now. You are. We are. Because I told you. We need to firmly decide if I’m that friend, to put it mildly, or an enemy, before we get off this plane. And while I believe we’ve made that choice, I don’t believe that you left without me because you were afraid of trusting me too much.”

  “Trusting your assassin—”

  I twine fingers into her hair and drag her to me. “I’m Seth. Just Seth.” I lower my head, my lips a breath from hers. “You know him. You know me like no one else does.”

  Her fingers curl around my shirt. “Do I?”

  “Yes,” I say, and as much as I want to kiss her, wanting her, her wanting me, is a distraction from the decisions being made here right now. And so, I release her again, my hands settling back on the arms of the chair, my eyes meeting hers as I allow her to see the simple truth I’m speaking. “Yes,” I repeat. “You do.”

  The intercom buzzes with what will be our orders when we land, but I don’t immediately move. “Don’t make us the enemies neither of us want to be,” I say before I stand and turn for the phone, only to hear her say, “Ditto, Seth Cage.”

  I pause a moment, my lips curving with the use of my name, not “Assassin.” Crossing the aisle, I pick up the phone in the hallway to hear, “Ten minutes until landing and the ground is clear.” The connection ends, and my brow furrows, alarm bells going off at the absence of any other directive, one that was promised when I arranged the flight options for our escape.

  Hanging up, I turn to find Amanda standing at the edge of the lounge area, a question on her face. “The ground is clear,” I say, knowing what she wants to know. Because I know her, like she knows me, and I’m going to remind her of that fact, every chance I get, some of which should definitely be naked.

  “Do we know anything about our cover when we land?” she asks.

  “Nothing yet,” I say, offering nothing more.

  “As a contractor, did you expect more?”

  I could lie to protect her, but I’ve never lied to her and we both need to be prepared should things go south when we hit the runway. “When I’m given an assignment, I am treated as an active agent.”

  “And they lined up our travel?”

  “Yes.”

  She inhales sharply, a tell I know she wouldn’t show anyone else, and I wonder if she even realizes she is still comfortable enough with me to show me. She’s worried there’s a CIA ambush waiting for her when we land. She turns away. I take a step, fully intending to pull her to me, but the plane does a hard shimmy, stalling my progress. My guns, still in the seat to my right, where I’d put them while getting naked earlier, start to fall. I catch them and go ahead and pull the holsters onto my chest and shoulders, watching as Amanda rushes to secure Julie, and she has no sooner zipped her up, packed a blanket around her, and checked the straps around the carrier, when the plane suddenly jolts and drops.

  Amanda and I both lift off the ground, but as light as she is, she rockets upward, but catches herself on the roof with her hands. I catch her on her way down, pulling her to me, both of us immediately checking Julie, who gives us a curious look through the mesh of her bag, which is still snug in her blanket. Still holding onto Amanda, one hand on her hip, the other flat on her lower back, I turn back to her, and her to me.

  “You say you trust me, then trust me now. The agency doesn’t need an ambush. They think they have me.”

  “Think?”

  “I didn’t come after you for them. You know that I came after you for me, and to be clear, I’m not leaving without you.” The wheels hit the runway and I grab the ceiling again, holding us steady, and only once we stop do I cup the back of her head and kiss her before saying, “Trust me.”

  “I told you. I do.”

  “Good,” I say, releasing her. “Then get your cat and let’s get out of here.”

  “The cat is Julie,” she corrects.

  “Julie,” I concede, grabbing my blood-soaked coat, and out of the necessity to conceal my weapons, I pull it on, then remove the medication bottles from my pockets. “We’re going to have to do a fast clothing change. I’m putting these back in your medical bag, where they won’t end up dumped.”

  “Did you take another antibiotic?” she asks, packing Julie’s bag.

  “And a pain pill.”

  She gives me a smile. “I’ll bet you did. Too bad we didn’t have this trust talk before you took a needle without that shot first.”

  “At least I’m prepared for interrogation by needlepoint.”

  She laughs, sobering quickly as the plane stops, her mind instantly back on what might come next, as is mine. Amanda and I both move to the windows, looking for trouble, the extent of what that tells me being that we’re in a private hangar. Straightening as Amanda does the same, I say, “Let’s just get the hell off this metal box that could turn into a trap.”

  “Agreed,” she says, pulling back on her hoodie, then placing Julie’s carrier strap over one shoulder, her purse on the other, her hand inside it, and close to her weapon. I load up the other bags on my shoulders, my hands free to reach for one of the two guns I’ve holstered to my chest.

  Amanda and I exchange a look and I start for the door first, leading us toward potential trouble I’ll find before her in the front position. The captain steps into the front of the plane and gives me a wave as the sound of the door opening fills the air. I don’t stop to drill him. He’s told me what he was instructed to tell me, and he won’t have more to offer. I continue on and step to the top of the stairs now pushed to the door, scanning to find the hangar I’d expected encasing us, and by obvious appearances, it’s free of that trouble I’m trying to avoid. Amanda joins me and does her own scan. “What’s the plan?” she asks.

  “We’re going to find a car, and a cheap hotel where you can have lab time and we can plan.”

  I’ve no sooner said the words, when one of the black sedans the agency loves so damn much pulls into the hangar, and stops. The driver’s door opens and a familiar agent appears.

  Bear, now sporting a University of Texas burnt-orange shirt, rounds the vehicle, nothing about his posture screaming trouble, but then he’s too skilled and experienced to have a tell sign.

  “Do you know him?” Amanda asks.

  “I know him,” I say.

  “And?”

  “He’s my handler on this job. I respect his skills.”

  “Then he’s dangerous.”

  “Very,” I say, as Bear leans on the vehicle, legs and arms crossed. Waiting on us.

  “And you didn’t expect him to be here?” Amanda asks.

  “No. I did not.”

  “Is there any chance the Franklin story was simply to get me to him?”

  “Doubtful,” I say, “but if it was, Bear is going to have a reality check on who’s the better man. Stay here.” I start to move.

  She catches my arm. “The last thing I plan to do is appear weak to the agency, or anyone else. I’m going with you.”

  I want to reject this idea. She’s been in hiding. Her skills are rusty, mine are not, but I do not wholly disagree with her thinking. “Leave the cat.”

  “No.”

  “Just until—”

  “No,” she says again.

  I grit my teeth, but don’t push. Every second we stand here, we look weak. “Well then, let’s go meet Bear.” We start down the stairs, with Bear in our sights and Amanda in his, and the agency’s, for the first time since her kill order was issued.

  Chapter Five

  Amanda and I close the space between myself and Bear, our pace even, unrushed.
We stop a foot from him. Bear gives me a nod and then focuses on Amanda. “Dr. A. Isn’t that what they call you?” he asks, still leaning on the car, which I’m certain is because he’s six-foot-five and, for the moment, doesn’t wish to intimidate Amanda. As if he could.

  “That was in my tamer years,” Amanda replies, setting Julie down, and proving my assessment as accurate with her quick-witted reply. “Before I became the killer the agency wanted me to be,” she adds. “Now, I’m called the Poison Princess.”

  “I’ve heard not to touch you,” Bear replies. “That it could be lethal.”

  “She doesn’t have to touch you to kill you,” I offer, setting the bags down. “I’ve watched men across the room drop.”

  “A good friend to make and a bad—”

  “—enemy to have,” I supply, a saying that actually originated with me when I was on a mission with Bear years ago.

  Bear eyes me. “And yet you always survive her.”

  “Yes,” I say. “I do, which is why you called me to get her, and we both know it.”

  Julie meows, and Bear’s eyes rocket to the carrier. “Is that a cat?”

  “Since dogs don’t meow,” Amanda says, “I think that makes you good at stating the obvious.”

  “Why do you have a cat?” he asks, looking between us. “Does Franklin like cats?”

  “She’s an attack cat,” Amanda says. “Lethal. I’ve trained her to rip her claws right across the line of the neck.”

  I manage a straight face with effort, which isn’t a problem I often entertain. Bear studies her a moment, and laughs. “Attack cat,” he says, stroking his goatee. “That’s funny. I actually love cats. I grew up with a cat as a best friend. Sheila, I called her. Best woman I’ve ever known.” He pushes off the car, towering over Amanda now by a foot, but his energy is relaxed. “Can I say hello to her?”

  “No,” Amanda says firmly. “She doesn’t like you.”

  He arches a brow. “She hasn’t met me.”

  “But I have.”

  He levels a stare on Amanda, clearly focused on her in this meeting, not me, and while I could intervene, I do not. Amanda is also focused. She’s re-establishing herself again with the agency, and I let her do her thing. “I didn’t have anything to do with your kill order or that of your parents.”

  “That’s a lie,” she says. “The standing order is to kill me before I can be captured and forced to help Franklin. That’s a kill order.”

  “She’s correct on that count,” I interject.

  He glances at me and then Amanda again, as he says, “That wouldn’t be necessary if the agent is loyal to their country, because a good agent would kill themselves before helping a man like Franklin.”

  “A good agent,” she says, “would make the most of being captured, and ensure she, or he, not only left with the secrets needed to save innocent lives, but that the people involved were captured or killed.”

  “Are you a good agent?” he asks.

  “My work speaks for itself, excluding the false claims of my defection.”

  “The agency wants to question you when this is over,” he says, “which gives you the chance to prove your innocence.”

  “You mean interrogate me before they kill me,” Amanda says. “That’s not going to happen, so I guess you just have to order Seth to kill me again. Unless you want to try your luck yourself.”

  “You really are fearless, aren’t you?”

  “I fear things,” she says. “Just not you.”

  His lips curve and he looks at me. “You sure you don’t need backup?”

  “What I need is a cover story and the hell out of here,” I reply.

  “I have an Uber button,” he says. “So, I’ll play Uber driver and fill you in on the way to your destination. I also have a change of clothes for you both in the car.”

  I respect Bear. He’s a good agent, but he’s also an agency man. This feels off. “Why weren’t the details of our cover left on the plane, including our change of clothes?”

  His eyes meet mine. “They wanted me to see her and feel her out.”

  “Then why the fuck did you pull me in on this?”

  “You were on assignment with her for three months. You know her. She knows you.”

  In other words, the agency knows we were more than partners three years ago, and have been watching me, expecting me to be as dirty as they label her to be. I don’t do anger any more than I do doubt, but if I did, I’d be pissed. “It’s the middle of the night,” I say. “We don’t need a change of clothes. We need a plan, a shower, and a bed. Tell us what we need to know and we’ll get our own Uber.”

  He seems to have known this was coming. “All right then.” He reaches into his jeans and produces a hotel key. “For now, you’re in The Joule Hotel, which is a five-star hotel, thus why you need the change of clothes. Full assignment details wait for you in your suite.”

  I accept the key and Amanda asks, “What does ‘for now’ mean?”

  He glances at Amanda. “One of your ins into Franklin’s operation is John Reynolds, a real estate broker to the elite who’s close to Franklin, at least indirectly. He also manages the highly sought-after warehouse district property owned by a man we believe to be an active partner with Franklin. This man, Eduardo Chavez, has a warehouse in that district that we believe could house the toxin. We’ll have you approach Reynolds to get a lease on one of those spaces. Chavez approves all leases himself, and even meets the new tenants.”

  “That doesn’t explain why you said ‘for now’ in relation to the hotel,” I say.

  “Right now, we have your cover as it was in the past. Diamond moguls, but Amanda is a fashion designer launching her own line, much like the Brandon empire you’re already working with. Chosen because you have knowledge you can use to establish and maintain the cover. You’ll open a store in Manhattan, but you’re looking for a more affordable state to manufacture.”

  “And we chose Texas why?” I ask.

  “They’re friendly to businesses. We’ve included data giving you those hot points in the files provided.”

  “Why do you believe Chavez is attached to Franklin?” I ask.

  “The water in the border city of Matamoros was tainted four weeks ago. Thirty people died. A photo of Chavez and Franklin was caught at a border checkpoint. And yes. You have a copy and details of all of this.”

  “Thirty people,” Amanda says, shaking her head. “He’s such a bastard. Do I have a sample of the toxin used?”

  “And a full lab,” Bear assures her, before glancing at me. “That ride offer is still open.”

  “We’ll pass,” I say. “Where’s that change of clothes?”

  “The trunk,” he says, reaching into his pocket and removing his key fob to pop it open. “I’d walk that way, but we both know you’d be suspicious. Feel free to change back there if you want. We cleared all cameras from the hangar.”

  With me closest to the rear of the car, I walk in that direction, locate a Louis Vuitton bag, and unzip it. Inside I find clothes for a male and a female, Louise Vuitton wallet, phones, and two velvet rings cases. Additionally, there are two weapons: a Glock and Ruger sized for a woman. There is also a wig and contacts for Amanda and two extra Louis bags for us to transfer our things into. I remove the black polo shirt and jacket from the bag, and set it aside before making quick work of removing my bloody jacket, which I toss in the trunk. My holsters are next, but I set one of my guns within fast reach. I slip on the overdone diamond studded gold band, and without looking at Amanda’s, assume it will be very large, which, under different circumstances, would meet her satisfaction. In thirty seconds, I’m in that clean shirt with the holsters back in place. Next, I change my pants and boots, and stick the wallet and passport with my fictional name on them in my back pocket.

  Leaving the bag for Amanda, I round the car again. She gives my new attire a once-over and I motion to her. “Use the back seat or the plane,” I say, not liking the idea of anyone watchi
ng her change.

  A flicker in her eyes tells me that she won’t box herself into a place that might explode, and she heads toward the trunk. Bear and I move to the front of the car, giving ourselves a small element of privacy before we step to each other. And yes, he’s six-foot-five, but I’m six-foot-two and see him as a target that has a hard time hiding. “I’m not the enemy here.”

  “Something doesn’t smell right here. Why is that?”

  “I inherited this situation, years after it started. I have nothing but the facts as they were handed to me to go on,” Bear retorts.

  “You’re a part of it now, and I don’t accept blind devotion to the agency without personal responsibility.”

  “I’ve never been blind or stupid and neither have you. Don’t let a woman change that, the way she changed your one-hundred-percent kill ratio.”

  “If I want you dead, you’ll be dead.”

  “But you didn’t want her dead.”

  “I don’t kill agents without proof they’re dirty. Do you?”

  “If you’re inferring that I killed her parents, you’re off target. I told you. I got pulled into this blindly.”

  “Why would they pull you into this now?”

  “I’m deep inside a Mexican terrorist connection and I’m working that angle for answers.”

  “Then you should be across the border now, finding answers.”

  “Thanks for that directive, Cage. But, asshole, I was in Mexico. I got back the same day I enlisted you.”

  I consider him a moment, and I don’t read dishonesty, but I do read opposition. “I want indisputable proof that her parents are dead,” I say, my voice low, taut.

  “They’re dead. I saw the reports myself.”

  “If that report has proof, then provide me a copy, including the name of the assassin on the kill order.”

  He narrows his eyes on me. “Where are you going with this, Cage? Because it can’t be any place good.”

  “Get it for me,” I bite out.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “This is not optional,” I say. “And I want the details of what Amanda, and her parents, are accused of doing, as well as proof that justifies her kill order.”