Undercover Pursuit

He pulled her close and curled her against him. “I know I don’t need to say this, but you’re truly a professional.”

She had never been more offended in her life. Who, exactly, did he think she was? Just wait until she found Bridgett.

She heard the party going on somewhere in front of them, laughter drifting down from the deck above. She’d never been on a boat this size, however, and she took her time walking along the side deck, watching the lights splash on the dark ocean, getting her sea legs.

“This must have cost a fortune,” she murmured.

“I think the family can afford it,” Luke said, still holding her hand, walking in front of her.

“No, really, I don’t think they can.”

He glanced back at her, the slightest frown on his face. They emerged on the bow of the yacht where a band played steel drums, filling the night with a tropical beat. A couple of waiters held trays of pretty drinks and dark-haired women in dresses that certainly wouldn’t have needed the wand danced together while men lounged on the chairs, laughing and smoking cigars.

Uh, maybe there was more than one wedding party on this ship. “She’s not here. I think we have the wrong group,” Scarlett said into Luke’s ear.

She didn’t let go of his hand, however. And bless him, he didn’t let go of hers, either. See, he was a gentleman after all. She might decide to like him, just for now, despite the coerced dating.

He stopped a waiter and asked him something in Spanish. She tried to catch it but he had a much better grasp of the language than she did, clearly, because he talked so quickly she got nothing. The waiter gestured up another deck.

“She’s in her stateroom waiting for us,” Luke said and pulled her toward the stairs.

Stateroom?

They found another group partying on the deck above. Not a familiar face here, either. She let Luke drag her to the back of the boat.

As he knocked on the stateroom door, she turned and stood for a moment, staring out at the mysterious black sea, the stars pinpricks on the undulating surface. The music, the flicker of lightning in the distance, the low tremble of thunder—she had entered a different world. “I can’t believe Bridgett rented this. I mean, she’s normally over the top, but—”

“What?” Luke sidled up beside her just as the door opened.

Scarlett turned, expecting Bridgett. Instead, a woman with dark hair, wide brown eyes and very red lips stood in the doorway. She was petite, beautiful and wearing an off-white silk gown that left nearly nothing to the imagination.

The woman glanced at Luke, then her gaze landed on Scarlett. What looked frighteningly like relief crossed her face.

“Finally,” she said. Then she reached out and put her arms around Scarlett, hugging her as if she might be her long-lost friend. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Something didn’t feel right. Luke couldn’t put his finger on it, but ever since they boarded the yacht—from the panic on her face when Sanchez’s men wanded her, to her more-than-friendly grip on his hand, to the way her eyes widened when Lucia threw her arms around her—something about Scarlett seemed off.

She had been briefed, right? And it seemed that when she’d slid her hand onto his arm back at the resort, she’d even settled into their charade, had put on her game face.

Lucia grabbed Scarlett’s hand and pulled her inside.

Luke followed and shut the door behind them. Wow, the drug business paid well. His tiny flat in Prague that he shared with Brody Wickham—he might be displaced soon, thanks to Brody’s recent engagement to pop sensation Vonya—would fit three times over in Lucia’s living room alone. Closed doors probably led to a bedroom and more. The place looked as if it should be in a showroom or a catalogue—a seafoam-blue sofa and overstuffed chair, cherrywood end tables, a giant flat screen on which played a soccer game. Opulence purchased with drug money.

The lavish setting probably accounted for Scarlett’s wide-eyed look, which she cast first at Luke, then back at Lucia.

He tried to dismiss this sense that something wasn’t quite right.

“I don’t understand,” Scarlett said softly.

Nope, there was no ignoring it any longer. Especially after Scarlett let go of his hand and said to the bride, the woman she’d been hired to protect, “Who are you?”

Who are you?

“This is Lucia, Scarlett. Lucia…the bride?” Luke said as calmly as he could.

Scarlett put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back, her voice low. The wild look in her eyes—something between panic and fury, only tightened the knot in his gut. “I know the bride. This is not her. And I’m starting to wonder exactly who you are.”

“I’m your…fiancé?”

She went white, put her hand to her chest, swallowed and stepped away from him. “Okay, what is going on here?” She took another step back toward the door, and Luke had no choice but to cut her off.

“Stop.” He put his hand up and she flinched.

Oh, man. The sudden flare of fear in her eyes made him feel awful. “Listen, you are Stacey Meyer, right? From Denver? You know, my bride-to-be?”

After seeing the look on her face, he didn’t know who to feel more sorry for—her, or himself. Because clearly he’d come to the wedding with the wrong date.

She drew in a breath, glanced at Lucia and then back at him. “My name is Scarlett Hanson, and I’m here for my sister Bridgett’s wedding.” Her voice had a sort of high twang to it. “But I think maybe you didn’t know that, did you?”

He looked at Lucia, who had frozen. Who, in fact, might not even be breathing. “Lucia, everything is going to be fine—”

“Who is this woman?” Lucia asked, her voice shaking.

“I picked her up at the airport. I thought she was my contact—”

“Picked me up? Picked me up? Oh…oh, you listen here—whoever you are. You were in my cab, thank you very much, and you were supposed to be my date, not the other way around, so let’s just rethink who picked who up, shall we?”

Perfect. He could spot a woman—no, women—about to unravel.

Oh, how he hated working with people he didn’t know. It made it very easy for things to go wrong. Things like this.

“Ladies, please, let’s just figure this out.” He held up his hands in surrender to Scarlett. “Please, sit down. Let’s talk about this.”

Scarlett stood there looking at Luke as if he had spoken Russian. Then, she drew in a long breath and shuffled over to the sofa. She sat on the arm, her hands tangled together in a whitened grip. “Is your name really Luke?”

“Yes. And I’m assuming you are really Scarlett Hanson?”

“Always have been. From the moment I got into the cab with you.”

Suddenly it all clicked—why she’d been so cold, even offended, when he’d suggested they might be a couple. And why she’d made sure he knew to keep his hands to himself. Oops.

He looked at Lucia and motioned for her to sit down. She shook her head.

Yes, next time he would definitely work solo. He schooled his voice into something resembling calm, hoping it might help him, too.

“Uh, okay, here’s what’s going down, Scarlett. Unfortunately, I was supposed to meet a woman named Stacey. She was my cover—my fiancée—for this mission. Clearly something happened to her.”

“Mission?”

“I’m…well, let’s just say I’m a security specialist. And in this case, I’m here to protect Lucia.” He nodded toward her.

“Why does Lucia need protecting?”

“Because I’m marrying Benito Sanchez,” Lucia said, none too politely. She finally sat down in the overstuffed chair. “And someone is trying to stop me.”

“Someone is trying to keep you from getting married?”

Lucia fiddled with the two-carat ring on her finger. Luke suddenly realized he should have noticed that Scarlett wasn’t wearing a ring. Mistakes—how he hated them.

“Yes. Maybe because they’ve figured out that I’m not really here to get married,” Lucia said.

“You’re not?”

She lowered her voice, glancing at Luke as if for permission. Scarlett glared at him. He nodded. Scarlett deserved some information at this point. It was the least he could do.

“I’m here to help the CIA catch Augusto Sanchez. He’s a terrorist and the leader of a drug and human trafficking cartel in Panama.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Augusto is a shadow. Very few people actually know what he looks like, or where he lives. But he’s my fiancé’s uncle and he’s coming to our wedding. The CIA will raid the wedding and arrest him.”

“On your wedding day?”

“Well, I’m not really getting married, obviously.” She cupped her hand over her mouth, swallowing, and Luke could see her tear. “Poor Benito.” She closed her eyes and took a breath.

Scarlett just stared at her, horror on her face.

Luke even felt a little sorry for Lucia.

But that’s what happened when you fell in love with liars. You got dirty, and people got hurt.

Lucia finally exhaled. “The problem is, I think some one knows the truth. Last week when I was at the market, someone tried to run me down, I know it.” She lifted her arm, and Luke winced at the ugly scrape that reddened her skin. “I told my contact at the CIA but he didn’t believe me. Frankly, I don’t know who to trust, so I called a friend.”

“My boss,” Luke said quietly, trying to read Scarlett’s face.

Scarlett turned to him and said, “So, this Stacey is supposed to be here protecting Lucia?”

“Yes.”

“As a bridesmaid.”

“Maid of honor. My friend from college,” Lucia said.

“And if you aren’t protected—”

“Then someone is going to kill me.”

Scarlett looked at Luke and shook her head. “I’m an idiot.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Oh, yes, I am. I should have known that a guy like you wouldn’t be my date. I don’t know where my head was.”

Now what was that supposed to mean?

She stood up before he could ask. “Listen, Lucia, I am really sorry about messing things up here. And I pray you’ll be safe.” She turned to Luke. “Take me back to the island and I’ll get out of your hair. You can track down this Stacey girl and get back to your mission.” She held out her hand to Lucia. “Nice to meet you.”

Lucia didn’t move. She looked at Luke, her eyes glued to him.

Luke blew out a long breath.

Scarlett lowered her hand. “What’s the problem?”

“Uh…Scarlett, I really don’t know how to tell you this but, see, you went through security with me. And…”

Wow, he needed a drink—possibly more than water. Although those days were over, too. He sighed.

“Luke—”

“You can’t leave.” Lucia found her feet. “If Luke takes you back to the island and returns alone, they’ll know something is up.”

“What? No.” She’d gone white, and he grimaced as he delivered her fate.

“She’s right, Scarlett. You might not be Stacey Meyer, but you are my fiancée. At least for the next three days.”

“My sister needs me. I can’t stay here. She’s expecting me to help her with her wedding—I have to pick up her dress!” Her voice shrilled as she lunged for the door.

Luke hated himself just a little when he caught her, his hands closing around her arms. And he felt even worse when he went all military on her, dropping his voice. “Scarlett. I absolutely cannot let you walk out of here.”