Trey: Red, Hot & Blue, Book 1 (5 page)

“Um, hello?” Matt’s singsong voice made the word into three syllables rather than two.

“I hear you just fine. This concludes this test.” Not only did Trey not want to talk to Matt right now, but he also had to explain what was happening to Carly. She was looking at him like he had lost his mind and was talking to himself.

“Right, you need to get back to that very important part of your mission, I suppose. Can’t wait until I have video up and running.” He could almost hear Matt smirking. Shit. This was getting more complicated by the minute.

He turned to Carly and pointed at his ear. “Communications earpiece.”

She appeared impressed. “I didn’t even see it. Wow, it must be really small.”

Almost in his lap now, she tried to peer into his ear. She was so close he felt her breath against his skin. An uncontrollable shiver ran down his spine before he could shake it off. Grabbing her by both shoulders, he placed her firmly back in her seat.

“You can’t see it because a doctor implanted it inside my ear canal. It’s less likely to be detected during undercover ops and if it is, it looks like a cochlear implant.”

Now she looked especially impressed. Perhaps he should talk about more tech stuff. She seemed to like it. She’d be really in awe when the time came for them to dispose of their files and she saw the patented dissolvable paper disintegrate in the water in the jet’s bathroom sink.

“Wow.” Her gaze dropped briefly before returning to his face. “What else have you got hidden inside you?”

He laughed. “Wouldn’t you like to know?"

Trey wasn’t about to tell her he also had a tracking device as well as an encoded identification chip hidden inside him, and who knew what else. It seemed the medical personnel were always jabbing him with something or another during those physical exams every six months.

“Hmm. I’ve underestimated Uncle Sam. Speaking of the good old US of A and our beloved Department of Homeland Security, what can you tell me about our ‘assignment’?”

“Nothing. Read your dossier. There’s going to be a test before we land.” He wasn’t really worried she couldn’t remember the facts of their new fake lives. At the bar he’d seen her memorize a list of drinks a mile long while dodging Jack’s advances at the same time, but there was no way he could respond to her question. Best to keep her busy so she wouldn’t sulk, which he was sure she would do anyway because he wouldn’t give in to her.

As if on cue, she screwed up her face in another adorable pout and he found he had to read the same page over again for the third time.

Chapter Six

Carly walked down the much-too-narrow metal stairs of the jet and clutched the railing for dear life. She could kill Trey. She knew he was walking just behind her, watching her ass in the tight black low-rise leather pants as she tried to walk in the stripper’s four-inch heels that were a size too big.

“You’re a dancer, remember? Try to be a little more graceful,” he whispered behind her.

She shot him a killer look over her shoulder. “We’re off the plane, remember? No more talking.”

He was trying hard not to laugh at her and she was trying harder not to whack him with the stripper’s giant leather purse full of the makeup and hairspray he’d made her put on. She looked like a clown, or worse, the cocktail waitress at work. “Ooo. I hate you right now.” Her stomach roiled with frustration.

He made a mock hurt face. “But, sweetheart, I love you so.”

Turning away from him, she focused all of her concentration on the downward descent, hoping this assignment would get better, which wasn’t very likely.

Finally reaching the bottom of the stairs and the solid ground of the tarmac, she found it a bit easier to maneuver in the heels. She hated to admit it, but Trey was right. She’d have to learn damn quickly how to walk more naturally in these death-trap stilts or she’d blow it for both of them. How the hell did strippers dance in these things?

Next to her again, Trey draped one arm casually around her shoulders as he pulled the suitcase on wheels behind him.
His
clothes were just fine. He got to wear a black silk shirt and fitted gray trousers that made his ass look incredible. She nearly had to shake her head to clear the image of his cute butt from her brain.

This was her own fault. If she hadn’t sworn off men, perhaps she wouldn’t be finding Trey so irresistibly attractive.

Glancing up, she caught him looking down her cleavage, which was huge and totally exposed thanks to the stripper’s taste in tiny tops. Sure, Carly wore the occasional tight T-shirt at the bar. It increased her tips by a laughably large amount, but she never wore anything as revealing as this. Worse, this was actually the shirt with the most coverage among what she had found in the suitcase. All the others exposed her belly button as well as her boobs.

Carly huffed out a breath. She couldn’t even reprimand Trey for looking down her shirt. Playing his happy and horny bride, she should enjoy this kind of lascivious attention. Actually, on the plane during that kiss she had gotten the horny role down pretty well. She buried the thought quickly. Too bad the ache inside her wasn’t as easy to dismiss.

How was she ever supposed to go back to casually serving this guy beer at the bar when she’d never forget the feel of his hand on her breast? She should have just said no to this thing. Then the commander’s words echoed in her head.
Sixty percent chance of success without you.
She couldn’t have backed out and doomed Trey to a forty percent chance of failure, possibly death, because she couldn’t control her overactive libido around him.

She tried not to dwell on the fact the commander had estimated there was still a twenty-five percent chance of failure even with her there. If she didn’t keep her mind on the task that number would probably get even worse.

With all this introspective thought, she’d missed what Trey had just said. She forced herself to focus. “I’m sorry. What?”

“There’s the limo the email said would be waiting for us.” He was staring in the direction of a long black car whose driver was leaning against the hood.

Her heart kicked into double time.
Here we go
.
Don’t screw it up
.

The driver walked forward to greet them, taking the bag from Trey. “Mr. Smith, Mrs. Smith. I hope you had a pleasant flight.”

The names of the people they were impersonating sounded even more stupid and fake when the driver said them. Carly would bet a year’s tips they
were
fake.

The driver continued, “Welcome to Kosovo.”

Kosovo?
Wow. That explained why the flight was so long and why it looked like it was already the middle of the night here. She tried to remember anything she’d seen or read recently about this particular hotbed of discontent. If she ever got out of here alive, she swore she would pay more attention to current events.

She spotted the bulge of a concealed weapon under the driver’s suit jacket. It nearly stopped her dead in her tracks. Only sheer force of will coupled with Trey’s gentle nudge kept her teetering onward.

Undercover in Kosovo. When she chose to do something crazy, she sure did it in a big way.

Boy, did he love the way those high heels made Carly’s hips sway. If only he could devote his attention to just watching her walk. Instead, he pretended to watch her as he evaluated their surroundings. He checked the rooftop for snipers. It looked clear. He memorized the limo’s license plate number to give to Matt later so he could find out who it was registered to.

Of course, he’d noticed right away the driver’s concealed weapon as well as his extremely expensive suit. Trey would bet his pension this was no mere driver, but rather part of the target’s most trusted inner circle sent to make sure nothing went wrong. This meet was too important to trust any portion of it to lower-level hired help.

Trey kept his arm around Carly after they got into the backseat of the car and played with her now larger-than-life hair-sprayed hair. Anything to keep her mind off the driver’s weapon, which had nearly toppled her off her heels when she’d noticed it. Carly sat so close they were pressed together from hip to thigh. She was definitely scared.

They drove the distance from the airport to the capital city of Pristina and pulled up in front of the prestigious Hotel Pristina. Had he been in the dark, he would have thought the target had spared no expense by putting them up in the best hotel in the city. However, thanks to the intelligence gathered by Jack’s brother Jimmy, he knew better. A corporation set up by the target happened to own this hotel. Just one more way the bad guys had figured out how to filter and hide money.

The clerk greeted them in the language of the country, which Trey, as John Smith, had to pretend not to understand. He responded a bit too loudly in his native tongue, as people tended to do when conversing with those who didn’t speak their language. “We’re American. Do you speak English?”

“Of course.” The clerk nodded. “Please, your name?”

“Smith. John and Candi Smith.” Trey smiled down at Carly when he said it, knowing she hated her fake name and it would drive her crazy. He nearly laughed as he watched her bite her lip but not say a word. Laying his hand on her shoulder, he felt her trembling and pulled her closer to his side.

The front desk clerk consulted a computer. “Yes, I have you here. You have bags?”

“Just one suitcase. It’s still in the trunk of the car.” No doubt where their host had already had it thoroughly searched. Trey had purposely kept the laptop bag with him the entire time, just as John Smith would have.

The clerk signaled a bellman to retrieve the luggage from the car. He led them up in the elevator to one of the higher floors. In this case, higher was not better. It only meant they’d have more flights to descend if they needed to get the hell out of there quickly. It also meant escape through the window was not an option.

A chilled bottle of champagne and overflowing fruit basket awaited them inside an impressively large room. Trey glanced around and quelled his frustration. There was nothing he could do there until Matt set up shop somewhere nearby, hacked into the hotel’s security systems and determined whether there was surveillance set up in the room or not.

His instinct told him there would be, but until he knew for sure he was at loose ends waiting on Matt. Trey took another look around the well-appointed room. He’d been on way worse assignments than this. He really couldn’t complain. Acting like John Smith, he grabbed the icy cold bottle from the bucket and popped the cork, sure his wife could use a little something to calm her down. Not enough to get her drunk, just a bit to stop her from shaking.

Carly’s eyes opened wide, silently reprimanding him for drinking on the job, he supposed.

“Look, how nice. We can’t ignore our host’s generous hospitality. Right, baby?”

What was he supposed to do? Judging by what he had learned thus far about John and Candi Smith, they were the type to pop the cork, so to speak. He pushed a nasty thought from his mind at his own little accidental sexual euphemism. He briefly pictured doing
that
with Carly instead of drinking.

He poured them both a glass, then walked to Carly and handed one to her. He clinked his champagne flute to hers. “Here’s to my beautiful wife.”

Watching a blush creep into her cheeks, he let the expensive bubbly slide down his throat. She was so easy to rattle. It would be fun if their lives weren’t on the line. He’d have to get her comfortable with him before the meet tomorrow. If he didn’t, someone was bound to notice. Leaving her behind in the hotel room when he went alone was not an option. If the shit hit the fan he wanted Carly with him. It was his only chance at protecting her.

He was just trying to think of some way to put her at ease when Matt’s voice sounded in his ear. “They’ve got both eyes and ears, Trey. Sophisticated and extremely sensitive shit. You copy me?”

He covered his mouth and coughed once to indicate to Matt he had indeed heard his less-than-encouraging news. Eyes and ears. Both video and audio surveillance. Just great. God willing, Carly would remember what the commander had told her during their very brief meeting in his office that morning.
Not even a whisper
.

“You hungry, sweetheart?” When Carly’s look told him the last thing she wanted to do was eat, he looped an arm around her neck and planted a big kiss on her champagne-scented lips. “I know the time change is messing with your system but you should eat at least something light.”

“Okay.” She stared up at him, as if waiting for him to tell her what to do next.

“Why don’t you order something for both of us from room service? There should be a menu in here somewhere.”

She nodded but didn’t move.

He had to knock her out of this deer-in-headlights mode. “I’m going to hop into the shower quick while you order.” Grabbing her shoulders, he lowered his head nearer her ear. “Unless you’d like to join me.”

That jolted her out of her sudden stage fright.

“Actually, I’m starving.” Pulling away, she walked to the desk. She grabbed the room service menu lying there.

If this were any other situation, he would definitely take advantage of how easy it was to ruffle her feathers and enjoy doing it. Pulling his shirt off over his head while walking toward the bathroom, Trey couldn’t help but smile.

Carly tried to peruse the room service menu but it wasn’t until Trey and his well-developed and now shirtless muscles were safely locked away in the bathroom that she actually noticed she couldn’t read it. It must be in Serbian, or Slovakian, or whatever the hell the language was here. Out of pure frustration, she flipped the menu over and found the English translation provided for tourists.

American tourists. In Kosovo. That was laughable. Given all the vacation destinations in the world, why would anyone choose Kosovo? Maybe businessmen stayed here, though she didn’t know what industry Kosovo was famous for. She glanced at the offerings, which only raised another question. What did one eat while in Kosovo?

She automatically ruled out fish and even meat. Perhaps she was being a typical ethnocentric American, but she wasn’t sure what the sanitation was like here. The last thing she needed was E. coli or something. The ridiculousness of worrying about food poisoning when most likely they’d both end up shot to death by the gun-wielding limo driver was not lost on her.

Pushing that thought out of her mind, she finally settled on salad and pizza, although pizza in a foreign country was probably more risky than the fish. Hopefully they imported it frozen from the States.

Armed with that illogical belief, she placed the order with an accommodating phone operator who, thank goodness, spoke at least some English. That done, she began rifling through the one suitcase again. Might as well dig deeper and see what other surprises were in there. She didn’t even want to think about what kind of lingerie Candi the former stripper wore.

What she discovered was an embarrassingly small see-through thing she supposed could laughably be called a nightgown in some circles. She was standing with the item in question dangling from one fingertip, wondering how she was ever going to put this on and sleep when the bathroom door opened.

The nightie was forgotten immediately when Trey emerged, dressed in nothing but a towel draped low on his hips. Her eyes followed the trail of damp hair that led from his chest, down his belly, directly toward his… She swallowed hard.

He walked to the suitcase and picked through the choices left in the bag. He stood so close she could smell the hotel soap and shampoo on him.

Trey raised a brow when he noticed what she still held, forgotten, in her hand. “Dressing for bed?” He smiled broadly and grabbed a pair of black silk pajama bottoms out of the jumble of clothes. “Good idea.”