that, the target is a military vet. He’s also a businessman based out of Geneva and works with multiple countries fulfilling military contracts for armored gear and weapons. Over the past seven days, I’ve learned everything I need to know about retired Marine Sergeant Penn Simmons, down to the fact he has three cats named after Shakespearean villains: Claudius, Lady Macbeth, and Edmund.
I have no room to judge. I’m now the proud owner of my own feline named Daisy. It also seems I’m the only human in the house who Daisy doesn’t like, given the fact she hisses at me every time I get near her.
From what I can tell, Penn Simmons’ cats are the only villainous thing about the man. After landing a high-paying gig in Switzerland, he appears to be a family man living out the dream of working in the worldwide center for diplomacy. He has contacts throughout the United Nations and donated a big chunk to the Red Cross last year. He spends his winters skiing the Alps and summers sailing the waters of Lake Geneva.
Besides his sailboat named The Tillie, after his wife, he’s downright as boring as a two-by-four. His wife, who works as an instructor teaching English to French-speaking students, is equally as mind numbing.
Penn is not exactly the kind of person we usually target—as in never-fucking-ever. And especially not since I’ve been put in charge of managing covert assets—people we pay to do our dirty work, like Vega and those he trains.
“Turn.”
I look down from where I’m standing on the short pedestal and face the mirror. The tailor at my feet pins the hem of the tux trousers I plan on wearing while supporting the damn Everglades.
He looks up at me and raises his brows in question. I inspect the break in my pants before giving him a nod and return to my call. “Nick, the plan has been put into motion.”
That’s a lie. I might’ve put a plan in motion, but it’s mine—not his. One thing is for sure, no one is on their way to Switzerland to put a bullet through Penn Simmons’ head. On the contrary, Asa has tapped my bosses line. The last few days have been interesting.
Nick is on the move, at a quick clip, going who knows where and doing who knows what, huffing and puffing all the way. I take that back—Asa probably knows since he’s tracking his cell, so there’s no reason for me to ask. It’s not as if I can judge, it’s the middle of a work day and I snuck out to be fitted for a tux I’m oddly anxious to wear.
“Then explain to me why the target attended a meeting this morning with his contact from the British Armed Forces? Usually when shit is carried out and business is taken care of in a timely manner, those people tend to miss meetings—for the rest of eternity.”
I fasten the single button of my jacket and turn to the side to inspect myself as I listen to him become more and more frantic, which is the most interesting thing that’s happened today.
Also fascinating is the fact my boss’s tension only makes me calmer. “Nick, you and I have been at this for some time now. Without elaborating since I’m not alone, you know these things don’t happen overnight.”
“It’s been a week,” he bites.
“And you said to make it a priority, which I have. You didn’t give me a deadline.”
“You should have assumed the deadline was as-soon-as-fucking-possible when I told you to make it a priority. Now I’ve got people breathing down my neck while you’re trying to get your shit together.”
The tailor at my feet stands and takes a step back. “How does it look, sir? You chose wisely—simple, traditional, timeless. This will carry you through for years.”
I take one more look in the mirror and remember the last time I wore a tux. It didn’t make it back to the States. But I don’t see the six-foot-four CIA officer whose shoulders and chest fit surprisingly well into this custom fit.
I see the man who broke in a certain MI6 in more ways than he had a right to.
If I had to do it all over again, I would.
And I plan to, even though my final conquest of Isabella Donnelly will no doubt be my hardest. Training her and making her mine feels like a walk in the park compared to getting her to stay.
Making good on our deal and marrying me—sealing