Page 25 of The Angel and the Agent

Chapter 9

Lately Ethan’s life had been nothing but work. It seemed as if every terror cell in the world had pooled their resources and decided to act in one capacity or another. In three weeks he went to eight different countries on assignment. His social life was at a virtual standstill. He had no time and energy for friends, let alone dating. Though lately he didn’t much have the heart for the game he had once loved. Maybe he was getting too old for it. Recently it seemed like when saw a pretty woman who gave him all the right signals, he couldn’t seem to make himself engage. What he wanted most at the end of a long workweek was sleep and then coffee and then more sleep. He was beginning to understand why Ridge had transitioned away from being a field agent. How long could he reasonably keep up with the demands of his job? He wasn’t yet thirty, and he was exhausted.

He had always loved his job, first in the navy, then as a SEAL, and now as an undercover agent. He thrived on adventure, on taking chances, on doing things few other people in the world could do. But lately the job had lost its shine. Who cared that he was on an elite task force when he had no one to tell? Even his family back home in Vermont had no idea what he did. Ridgeand Maggie were lucky they worked together and could share the stress of their job. They didn’t have to keep secrets. Ethan realized the direction of his thoughts and groaned. Just a few months ago he had been making fun of Ridge at his wedding, and now he was beginning to envy him. It wasn’t that he was ready to settle down, per se, more that he was ready for someone to share things with, to unload the burden a little, to not feel so alone in the world. When he was in the SEALs, they were his brothers. They still were, but most of them had wives now. Some of them had kids. It wasn’t the same as it had been; they weren’t a team anymore. They were friends, busy friends who rarely had the time or energy to get together anymore.

Now it was Saturday, his first weekend off in a month and his first morning home after a whirlwind trip to Somalia. He sat at his tiny table in his tiny apartment, trying not to wonder if this was all there was to life: work, sleep, repeat, wake up alone, go to bed alone, repeat, repeat, repeat. It had seemingly been forever since he’d gone on a date, even longer since he’d attempted an actual girlfriend. He had always insisted he wasn’t boyfriend material, but lately he was beginning to rethink things. What would it be like to be in an actual relationship? Would he get tired of being with the same person, as he feared he might? Or would it be nice to have the security of knowing someone, of digging deep and delving into secrets? What would happen when they got over the surface stuff and hit flaws? Could he be with someone messy? Could someone be with him with all his emotional baggage and liabilities?

A newspaper lay open in front of him, and it was doubtless why he was feeling so morose this morning. A picture of Amelia blared out from the society section, ensconced on the arm of Piedmont Bonvoy at some charity event. She looked radiant, as if she belonged to high society and all the trappings that went with it. Bonvoy was looking at her like she was his every dreamcome true, and she probably was. Ethan didn’t even normally read the paper, but he had glimpsed it in the airport yesterday, had glimpsed Amelia, and plunked down the money for it before he even realized what he was doing. He hadn’t talked to her in weeks. Had she thought about him? Probably not. She was too busy living it up with her famous lawyer boyfriend. He was officially her boyfriend now. Ethan knew because the magazine article described her as the “Serious girlfriend of Piedmont Bonvoy.” Serious? When had that come about? Last Ethan knew, they were keeping it casual. Of course that had been weeks ago, before he became busy settling the world’s problems on another continent while Bonvoy stayed home and argued over money in court, nice and cozy. Not that Ethan was bitter.

He tossed the paper away and sipped his coffee. A loud knock rapped on the door, and he jumped, sloshing coffee on the paper and table. “Great, now I’m turning into a nervous old lady,” he muttered, using a napkin to wipe up the coffee before it could spread.

For one wild, hopeful second, he thought maybe it was Amelia come to catch up. She knew he’d been busy with work because he told her he’d be occupied with a big project. He didn’t think for a minute she believed he worked in the private sector, but she’d never called him on the lie, and for that he was grateful. They had been well on their way to becoming good friends before he left, texting most days and talking on the phone occasionally on others. And now he hadn’t spoken to her in six weeks. Six weeks, three days, and fourteen hours, to be exact.

But it wasn’t Amelia at the door. “Officers, what can I do for you?” he asked, mentally running through the list of why two units were at his door. He had done a lot of things the local police would consider illegal but were allowed by his job and federal law. It was complex. Usually the police looked the other wayand pretended they didn’t know what the feds were up to when they skirted in and out of places they shouldn’t be with unseen weapons. But occasionally one of the locals got something in his craw and it came to a head. Of course that was only if they got caught, which Ethan hadn’t been. The only weapon currently in his possession was his service pistol.

The two officers stood on the doorstep serious and unsmiling. One of them assessed Ethan while the other let his eyes roam around the interior of the apartment. Ethan shifted his weight, blocking the view on principal. “We’ve had a complaint,” the first officer said, the one who didn’t have roaming eyes.

“What kind of complaint?” Ethan asked. It couldn’t be a noise complaint because he hadn’t been home for weeks.

“Stalking,” the first officer answered.

“What?” Ethan said, frowning. “What are you talking about?”

“We’ve had a complaint, a serious and credible complaint, that you’ve been stalking and harassing a woman,” the officer said.

“What woman?” Ethan asked.

“Amelia Eldridge,” the first officer said, and Ethan started to laugh.

“What are you guys, like rent a cops? Okay, she got me, I’m a stalker.” He put up his hands in surrender and, quick as a wink, the second cop cuffed him.

“You think this is funny?” the first cop said.

“Yeah, I think this is a joke,” Ethan said. “Is Amelia out there?” He tried to glance behind them, but the cop who had cuffed him slammed him against the wall.

“Don’t move,” he growled.

“Hey, whoa, wait a minute. You guys are going a little far here,” Ethan said. “Did Amelia set this up or not?”

“We haven’t spoken with the victim. The complainant was her boyfriend.”

Ethan blinked in rapid succession a few times. Did Bonvoy set this up? Or was it real? Amelia’s boyfriend might actually have a beef with him, if he knew about their fledgling friendship. Was he the sort of man who would take out the competition by any means necessary?

“I have never stalked a woman in my life. I’m sure Amelia would tell you the same thing, if you asked her.” It was better to play along, on the off chance these guys were legit.

“Do you mind if we take a look around?” the first cop asked.

“Yes, I very much do,” Ethan said.

“Too bad, we have a warrant.”

“I want to see it, and some ID,” Ethan demanded. The cops pulled out their badges and held the warrant aloft for him to inspect. If they were forgeries, they were exact replicas. “Fine, take a look around.”

“Oh, thanks for the permission,” the second cop said sarcastically, tucking the warrant back in his pocket. He made his way into the bedroom while the first cop stayed with Ethan, letting his eyes roam over the interior of the apartment. Ethan had no idea what they were hoping or expecting to find.

“You going to let me out of these cuffs?” he asked.

“Not until we’re satisfied there’s nothing to see here,” the first cop said. Ethan tried hard to keep a cap on his temper. He wasn’t accustomed to being treated so by guys who were supposedly on the same team. When this was over and everything had been sorted out, he would let them know his opinions on the matter, in no uncertain terms. Until then, cooperation was his best option.

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