Queen’s government pinned on her even though there’s no way it’s true. No one knows Bella better than me—other than maybe her own family.
Her father was one of the best. Her older brothers are still active. Bella’s mom is pure gold and her biggest fan.
Besides me.
I need her family on my side. I was in contact with them right after I pulled Bella out of hot water and helped her get out of the country but had to cut off all communication when the British government started poking around the CIA about me.
It’s time to break the silence and reach across the pond. I need to get in touch with the Donnellys.
Until then, I need Red and Abbott to cool their shit. They need to get used to Bella being here because I plan to win our bet so she’ll be my wife—and not the fake kind I’ve already contrived. The legal kind, the before-God kind, and the out-in-the-open kind where she can move freely around the world as she pleases, but with me by her side.
Red and Abbott need to see what I see.
I have so many missions, I feel like a circus clown juggling running chainsaws. And if shit doesn’t calm down soon, I’m in danger of dropping one and cutting my head off.
This cannot backfire. I’m no idiot—I know I’ve got one chance. If I fuck this up, I’ll never pin down Isabella Donnelly.
Chapter 5
Red
Bella
I’ve lived by myself since I graduated from uni, though, living may be a stretch.
While with Secret Intelligence, I was on the go for months at a time. Living meant bouncing from one seedy hotel to renting a less-than-modern room for a few weeks. Isn’t that what most women dream of?
As much as I loved the work, I actually hated the rest of it.
Growing up in a home with parents who doted on me and brothers who loved me—even if the Donnelly way of showing it might seem odd to some—one would think my choice of career and lifestyle would be more miserable than a piss-poor manicure. But I loved the work so much, I overlooked the dingy motels and shady hostels. Let’s be real, despite the lies James Bond films feed the world, we covert agents do not zoom around in private jets and sports cars while wearing haute couture from Harrods.
If only.
Slumming it was my life until I started spending my time off with Cole. Actually living together, no matter how much I’ve secretly dreamt of it, was never an option. I worked for the British government and he the U.S.
And then there was Abbott.
If all the above made it hard enough to build a lasting relationship, the little girl hopping around like a jumping bean on the floorboards above Cole’s bedroom sealed the deal. Even before I was set up as a traitor, I knew Cole and I would never work. My job was not conducive to being a mum, or even a mum figure, to anyone. Hiding out in the Middle East for a year proved it. The last time I saw Cole—he tried to convince me otherwise.
He was unsuccessful.
Then he yelled down the pukka I call home. He was angry and accustomed to getting his way.
I sent him packing and was left with a heartache that still throbs.
Abbott wasn’t with him full time then and the child already has a mum who’s off her rocker. She needs a woman in her life day-in and day-out—and not the one who birthed her or the one who’s hiding from the authorities.
I snuck into the States without Cole knowing because our last visit did not end well. Waking up to him sitting next to me in the hospital was more than a shock to my already-jolted system.
He knows how I feel and he brought me here anyway. Cole hasn’t changed. He wants what he wants and he’s used to getting it. It makes him the best at what he does, but it also makes him an infuriating man in every other aspect of life.
I look up when the door to his bedroom opens—and not quietly, I might add, the way one would slip into a room when the occupant just survived two surgeries and should be resting.
He stands over his bed I’m currently lying in. “Baby, you need to get up and walk.”
I angle my eyes to him right before I nearly roll them out of their sockets. “I have been walking. You weren’t here to witness the grand event.”