Page 83 of Garrison's Creed

“Why don’t you ever have someone serious? You and me. You and whoever. It’s never serious and steady.”

“Cause it’s more fun that way.”

“Truth. Why not?”

“Cause it’d take some asshole with big boots and a big cock to tie me down.” She winked at him. “You’re lacking the attitude problem, as is every other man out there. So, I do my thing and don’t lose a wink of sleep at night. It was fun, Cash, and I suspect we won’t happen ever again. At least I’m hoping not, cause I kinda like that Garrison girl.”

His gut twisted.I kinda liked her too.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The hangar and private jet looked the big money part. Nicola shifted in her Ferragamo heels, ready to get this trip over and into the done column.

The catering company loaded the last cart broadside, and Nicola figured the trip had another upside. Playing the part of a well-to-do socialite also meant an onboard chef ready to make some five-star dinner as they flew overseas. Lobster. This trip called for some serious lobster and something with truffles in it.

After the Town Car dropped her off, Nicola had breezed through the private check-in for charter flights out of Dulles International. The TSA woman had been far more intrigued with Nic’s new Tom Ford sunglasses than her almost-the-real-deal credentials. She’d have to thank Beth for airbrushing the headshot. Her skin looked flawless, and there was no way someone would call her passport and license fake. They were as genuine as you could get, considering they were made by the U.S. government.

Her cover name for the trip was Sarah Beth Pennington. Pretty, with an old money flair. Not too memorable, but specific enough to provide support for another CIA undercover team who needed an additional layer of back story. Plus, she could keep this round of designer duds. That included this very cute, very out of her price range, Jil Sander shirt dress that she now rocked. It fitted and flared in all the right spots. Cash would’ve liked it. Too bad.

It didn’t go unnoticed that a few items in her Louis Vuitton luggage didn’t fit and weren’t intended to. Beth hadn’t purchased Nicola’s long legs petite-sized pants for nothing. Nope. Beth was the petite one, and that was all right with Nic. She eyed her carry-on. The luggage was a loaner. It’d have to be returned. Eventually.

“Gabriella,” David the Butler said from behind her. Her back shivered and shuddered as if a thousand spiders skittered across her skin. “Oh, pardon. Nicola. Either way, a beautiful name.”

Nicola rolled her eyes. His way of speaking wasn’t just for his butler gig with the Smooth family. Every time she’d seen him since the Smooth showdown, he’d had the same mannerisms, inflection, and cadence. Slimy bastard. No doubt, the ass was a double agent. “Hello, David.”

“Oh, you sound so cold. We’re only here because you don’t trust me, and the powers that be want us to play nice. I’m willing if you are.” He looked at a paper in his hand. “Sarah Beth, is it? Lovely.”

She eyed his plaid sports coat and D & G pleated trousers. Yeah, he looked the part of Mister Pennington. His handler did good work. Together, they’d look the part, even if sleazy and slight of build wasn’t what did it for her.

Cash did it for her. Her mind flashed back to him. Tan muscles flexed and rippled when he moved. Blond hair, the occasional blond scruff, and soul-piercing, sapphire eyes haunted her memory. Her stomach slung sideways, thinking about his chiseled jaw and full lips. How he trailed kisses down her stomach and—

“Nicola, eyes are on us. Or Sarah Beth, rather. So many names, you’d think I’d be used to it in this job. I believe the Captain is ready and waiting.”

Buzz kill. “Dav—”

“Michael. Michael Pennington.”

“Whoever you are, the Captain won’t think anything of a married couple bickering. You’ve been put on notice. We’re bickering, and I’m not talking to you right now.”

David flashed a smile. The bile in her stomach sloshed.

“You don’t mean that, dear.” He extended his elbow.

No time like the present.She had work to do. “Fine.”

Nicola pulled out her powder compact to pat her nose and removed the first, microscopic listening bug she was to plant on David. Slipping it onto her finger, she closed her compact with a tight smile and locked arms with him, dropping the clear plastic listener onto his sleeve.

They boarded and went through the whole routine. The Captain had the face of an old-school Pan Am pilot with a present day uniform. It wouldn’t surprise her if he was a model hired for the part of charter Captain, and the real captain was in his late fifties with a gut and balding hairline.

The stewardesses made their appearance next, but the chef was who Nic was really interested in. Finally, he said his hellos, talked about his best friends Mario Batalli and Wolfgang Puck, and made his way back somewhere.Hopefully to find me a lobster.

Nic’s phone rang. It was Beth. Nicola stepped aside from David, who made use of the leather seats and flat screen television. Closing the door to the lavatory, she activated the small jammer which would allow her phone to work but block out listening devices. “Hello?”

“Did you call Cash?”

“Tried, no answer.” Nicola picked at her fresh, light pink manicure. It had to last the weekend and wouldn’t if she kept that up.

“I could find him on satellite if you want.”

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