Spying Under the Mistletoe (Love Undercover #2) - Stina Lindenblatt Page 0,34
drawer. “I have no idea what personal information the PTA is privy to.”
She pauses what she’s doing, arms full of panties and other unmentionables, and turns to scowl at me.
I catch a view of black lace and light pink satin before discreetly turning away. The last thing I need is the image in my brain of her wearing them.
Too late, my brain warns.
“How do you know she was here?” Chloe asks. “Were you stalking me?”
“No. I went home after the restaurant,” I say, mentally scrubbing the image from my mind of Chloe in the bra and panties, and shift my attention to the various framed animated woodland animals on the wall. Chloe’s artwork. “But one of my colleagues has been watching your building for the past few days. He spotted her going inside.”
“Did your spy tell you how long she was here for?”
“About an hour or so.”
She dumps the pile of clothing into the suitcase. “She must have been visiting another tenant.”
“Can you think of anyone that might be?”
“Not really. There are a few single guys, but I can guarantee they aren't her type. There are also a few single women—again, not her type.”
“What about married men?”
“Yes, there are a few married couples, as well as couples living together.”
“Do you think she was visiting any of them?”
Chloe scrunches her lips together in thought. “Anything’s possible. For all I know, she’s having an affair with a married man in the building. Without knowing which apartment she was visiting, there’s no way for us to know for sure.”
After Chloe finishes packing, I drive her back to the town house, keeping my eyes open for anyone who could be trailing us.
Rule #1 when it comes to missions: Keep your eyes on your surroundings—and assume everyone is following you.
Spies and criminals are a lot cleverer than portrayed in movies and on TV. They don’t follow you from point A to point B, hoping you don’t notice them. The smart ones work as part of a tag team. One individual might turn down a street to look like they haven’t been trailing you for the last few minutes, and their partner takes up the pursuit.
Like with hockey players on the ice, communication is key.
So even though it looks like no one is following us, I always assume someone is. I never drop my guard. The moment you do, it’s game over.
At my town house, I park my jeep in the garage. Chloe’s car is on the street after Jayden fixed her tire and parked the vehicle there. “And just so you know, I’ll be driving us both to school tomorrow.”
“Why can’t I drive myself?”
“Because it’s harder to protect you that way.”
“So, not only are we dating a few days after we met, I’m also living with you, and you’re driving me everywhere? You do realize this means I’ve just set women back a few hundred years? What’s next? You’re going to tell everyone about our upcoming arranged marriage?” A huffed sigh follows her amusing mini rant, and she crosses her arms with a grunt.
“If it means keeping you safe, then sure.”
“Why can’t we just tell everyone the truth?”
“It’s better they don’t know about the contract on you. It’ll make people nervous.”
“Should they be nervous?”
“No. But my team wasn’t only hired to keep you safe. They were hired to figure out who’s got the contract on you and take out the man.”
“By ‘take out,’ you mean kill him?”
If Liam’s team was truly working for her cousin, then yes, more than likely, that’s what would be expected of us—which we wouldn’t do. But since we’re working with the FBI…
“No, I mean, make sure he’s locked away until his dying day. My team keeps to this side of the law.”
“Unlike my family,” she says under her breath. It’s not a question, but I treat it as though it is.
From what I can tell so far, Chloe is nothing like her family—that’s why she’s no longer part of it, I guess.
“That’s right,” I tell her.
“Does that mean you’ve never killed anyone?”
“I used to be with the Navy SEALs. So, yeah, I’ve killed quite a few murdering bastards during my years of service.”
“Doesn’t that make you a hypocrite?” Her tone is like syrup, all hints of judgment hidden beneath the sweet layer.
“I’d like to think I’m more of a defender of the innocent and the defender of our right to freedom.”
“Like a superhero?”
I laugh. “Minus the cape and superpowers.”
She’s quiet for a moment before asking, “If you could have any