The Single Lady Spy Series Boxset Read online

  I started to cry again, rubbing my head and stammering, “H-h-how could you l-let-let me watch that-that? She was my best friend.” I heaved. I wanted so badly for it to be his fault.

  He walked to the bathroom and turned the tap on. He came back in with a glass of water and placed it on the bedside table. “We saw you find the other evidence that he was a cheater. You've known for a while.”

  I slapped at him wildly. “Did you plant the other evidence so I would find it? Did you?”

  Even in the darkness of my room, the cruelty in his eyes was distinct. “Evie, you have hours. I'm not kidding—hours. They're going to contact you. You need to remember who you are and shut off the parent act.” The words echoed in my mind.

  I curled into myself and shook my head. “She was in my wedding. She was with me when I found out I was pregnant. Her desperately sad face makes sense now. I thought she was sad ‘cause she knew I’d leave work if I had a kid. I'm such an idiot. I didn’t know, all this time. The PTA moms and Mel. I’m so stupid. I thought he was the lucky one. I was the better catch.” I snorted. “How fucking arrogant is that?”

  He sat on the end of the bed, the weight of him made me rock back a bit. “He's a dumbass. Luce always called him a douche nozzle. None of us liked him, not even Jack. That takes talent. Jack likes everyone.”

  I laughed and cried, not even caring how that was an insult. I'd seen douche nozzles. They didn’t seem offensive. I ignored my rambling brain and whispered, “What did the file say? How long?”

  He got what I meant. I was sure he would. He sighed. “Does it matter?”

  “Yeah, it does.”

  He gazed downward. “The whole time. He played you and her hardcore, apparently. He was found out and told to break things off with you both or he would be dishonorably discharged for fraternization. He told the commander you were pregnant.”

  I gasped. “My father was the commander then.”

  “The file says it was recommended he do the right thing. I’m assuming that was your father's recommendation.” His voice was cold and hollow. It made the news easier to take somehow. I remembered the look in my father’s eyes when we told him we were pregnant and getting married.

  “So he married me and screwed her for our entire relationship, and our whole marriage was a lie? A lie my own dad knew about?"

  He sighed. “Yeah, I guess.”

  I got up from the bed but he grabbed my hand when I walked past.

  “You need sleep.” He pulled me toward the bed, ignoring that I was pulling back.

  Uncomfortable with his familiarity and comfort, I pointed to the door. “I need to get the papers and video. I left it all downstairs.”

  “No. I told you but you don’t follow orders. I already got rid of it all. I took a huge risk coming here. I told you to burn it, not leave it next to the chunky monkey you were eating right from the container. That was a disturbing sight.”

  I bit my lip and fought the venom that won and accidentally slipped out. “You're an evil little dick.”

  “I guess I deserve that, though no guy wants to hear any female say the words little dick.” He pulled me onto the bed. “The commander thought you’d want to be alone when you heard the sordid story. He figured we just give you the paperwork and you figure it out in the quiet privacy of your own home.”

  “He was right, I wanted to see that alone.” I jerked away from him and crawled under the covers. He was too familiar.

  When I was comfy, he spoke quietly with his eyes on the floor, “When you were in, did you ever work on a file pertaining to a man named Gustavo Servario?”

  The lightbulb came on. I smacked my forehead. “That was him in the pictures. Damn, Servario. Yeah, I remember him well. He was a young cocky little shit. His mom was Italian and his dad was an Italian-Serbian arms dealer who owned a shipping company as a front. They were sort of a small-fry operation.”

  “Wow, that came back fast.”

  “Shut up.” I laughed bitterly. “Bad things stay with me.”

  “Girls always remember the bad stuff, forever.” He narrowed his eyes. “Anyway, the small-fry operation lasted a little while, but when his old man died, he took over. Everything changed then.”

  “Yeah, I worked his files then. It was 9/11 and he was a gunrunner so we kept a close eye on him. We presumed then, he would outgrow his dad. He was smart and savage.”

  Coop shrugged. “Well, after that he went underground. Then we heard not only was he running arms, but he was also dipping into prostitution and drugs. We could handle those things, stop him here and there, make it look like we were putting in an effort. The orders were to let him run it, and if he slipped up and got carried away, to slap his wrists.”

  I shook my head at how much it hadn’t changed. We didn't want to stop them and end the wars; we wanted the appearance of trying. Funding was dependent upon supply and demand. No demand, no supply.

  He shrugged and continued talking, “We kept an eye on him until three years ago. Then things changed again. He got harder to trace and would pop up out of nowhere. As if he was putting himself in our way, trying to be noticed.”

  “Diversion,” I said softly.

  Our eyes met in the dark. “Exactly.” I noticed the way the light hit his lips when he pursed them. “He was toying with us. We sent James in, not as a spy, obviously, but as a rogue informant. Trying to create misinformation amongst his people. We wanted to see how his line of command went and how he reacted to the lies we created. We wanted to know who we could get to. We believe it was then that James went rogue for real.”

  “Not to sound disinterested, but where in the hell do I come into the picture?”

  He chuckled. “The video you saw, we were watching him and we caught that transmission between him and Melanie Ashcroft. It was dumb luck—”

  “Don't lie to me.” I cut him off. “That’s bullshit. You knew he was cheating, and you kept close to blackmail him if you had to. You were building a file against him.”

  His lips curled. “In the yoga pants it's easy to forget you used to play this game. We had more than enough to charge him and ruin his life, but then we caught wind of him and Servario talking about the Burrow. Then again with Melanie—you heard it there on that video. It was taken only a couple of weeks before he died. We don't know what the Burrow is, and we don’t know where it is. But it comes up in random Intel on the lips of major players. Whatever it is, they all want it, which naturally make us want it. We think Servario believed James had it or had access to it through you—”

  “What?” I cut him off again. “Why would he kill James if he believed him to have it? Who does that? Who kills the man with the answers?”

  He continued, “We think it was you he was after. Kill James and get control and make you his pawn until you give him the Burrow. All I know is we didn’t kill James, and we aren't the ones freezing your assets. And we don't even know how valid the video of James is. For all we know James might’ve suspected us of watching him and acted for the video to lead us off track, or to bring you into this mess, maybe hoping they’d kill you so he could collect your life insurance and be with Mel. But higher-ups feel like you have the answer and they’re willing to gamble on you.”

  "But I don't." I sat up fast, ignoring everything he’d said. “What? Wait—if he died in the line of duty, I'm not paying for the whole funeral.” I was outraged. I didn’t even want to go to the damned thing anymore. I was angry on a whole other level of angry. I covered my eyes and massaged my temples.

  He chuckled. “Did you hear the rest of what I said?”

  “I’ve never heard him or anyone mention the Burrow thing. It might be some bullshit he was doing ‘cause he suspected you were onto him. Or the life insurance. I mean, why not kill me? They had already done everything else they could. Where the hell is Melanie? I was told she was on mission. Why haven’t you brought her in? James is probably still alive and with her. Bodies in burned-out cars tend to be someone we found al
ong the way to replace us when we fake our deaths. Typical cover-up.”

  “I know that.”

  Of course he did.

  The grim reality kicked me right in the crotch.

  They didn't suspect James was dead at all. And they had no problem letting me and my kids think it.

  Years of abilities and skills found their way back to me. Granted, they had to crawl through layers of bake sales and Fuckerwear parties. I made a duckface and processed.

  I mentally slapped myself, fearing I was losing my mind.

  "What a night.”

  “More like what a shitty few months. I'm sorry this is all happening to you.” He sounded caring and human.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “Me too. I feel bad for Melanie. Her heart must be broken. Will you be bringing her in? You never answered me.”

  He cleared his throat. “If it was really him in the car, then she was in there with him. It was a bomb. We got nothing firm on the ID.”

  I was frozen again. She had been one of my best friends in the whole world. I wouldn’t let her be dead in my mind. It was easy to suspect her of faking her death with James after seeing the video. If she had truly died, I wasn’t sure how to feel about it. I muttered emptily, “What evidence do you have that it was actually either of them in the car? How could you send two men to tell me and my children that lie?”

  He crossed his arms. “The notification wasn’t staged, but what we told you wasn’t exactly all of the truth.”

  I pointed at him. “I mean it, I’m not paying for that bastard’s funeral.”

  “Duly noted. I’ll tell the commander. But back to the facts, the car bomb was real. We have her rings and some dental. Him—we have the wedding band you were given afterward. The bomb was a type that uses chemicals to damage and erode the remains.”

  “And that doesn’t say set-up to you?”

  He shook his head. “We had eyes on them. They were in the car. This isn’t Mission Impossible, Evie.”

  The words began to sink in. “I don’t know why but her possible death hurts more than his.”

  “Bros before hos.”

  I frowned as tears streamed down my cheeks. “What?”

  “Come on”—his eyes widened—“you know that old saying, ‘bros before hos’? She was your bro and James was like your ho.”

  I laughed. “Oh my God, you are so twenty. I was a teenager when Snoop Dog made that up. Jesus.”

  He chuckled and stood up. “I know who Snoop Dog is. Jeesh, I told you I'm twenty-eight. I just mean she was bigger in your heart, even if it didn’t feel like it ‘cause she was your friend, not your lover. She was never blinded by love. She just wanted to be your friend.”

  Tears streamed my cheeks again.

  “Are you going to be okay?”

  I nodded and wiped my face once more. It was a lie. I might never be okay. He got up and walked to the bedroom door. It dawned on me how weird the whole thing was. He was standing in my dark bedroom, staring back at me. I didn’t know him, and I didn’t like to cry in front of people I did know. I cleared my throat. “So, I guess it’s Servario I’m meeting with tomorrow then?”

  He nodded. “We think so. Our intel on his movements is sketchy. We don’t have much to go on. He's been playing us for a while. That lawyer was our first real break since James went cold. Once we had the lawyer, we watched as your deeds and paperwork made their way into Servario's dummy company's name, through about a dozen other lawyers and a will from James. The lawyer made an appointment for someone to contact you the day of James' funeral. Upstairs believes it’s enough to bring you back in.” His eyes narrowed. “Evie, I want you to know, I disagree. I was all for protecting and moving you.”

  “I can’t believe they would sell me down the river for so little. My father gave his life for them. And what in the actual fuck is this Burrow?”

  He shrugged. “No clue but Servario froze everything to control you and make you need him. He did all that for a reason. It can’t be that little, if the government and a huge arms dealer and all the players in the game want it. He needs you for something.”

  I bit my lip and thought for a second. “I don’t like going in blind. What if he grabs me and kidnaps me?"

  “The phone the lawyer gave you was rigged. If you press 911 it goes directly to us and it's tracked. If Servario grabs you and you have that phone, we can find you.”

  “Useful.” I rolled my eyes. “I love that I'm being risked out like this. Do I know about him and James and about the Burrow?”

  “No. Play dumb for now.”

  My stomach clenched. “That won’t be hard. Will I be in danger? Should I get a gun?”

  He laughed. “No. When was the last time you fired a gun?”

  “I don’t know, a long time ago. Will you be there?”

  “I've been here all along.” His stare could’ve answered for him.

  I tried to ignore the strange feeling I got from him and the comment. “Okay, just turn my cell phone and house phones back on. I need to be able to reach my kids if I’m out, and they need to be able to call out if there’s an emergency.”

  “It wasn't me that turned everything off, but I bet I can have it all up and running for you.” He grinned. “Night, Evie.” He walked out and closed the door. I didn’t go to sleep. I waited for him to leave, or at least gave him long enough to be gone. Then I got up and started to debug my house. It helped me come to the realization old Evie was back. And I was never going to get rid of her again.

  4

  Goodbyes aren't nearly as bad when you hate the deceased

  To say I was pissed would be a huge understatement. It would be like saying Bostonians enjoyed the odd game of baseball or hockey.

  James’ service was lovely but I couldn’t cry, not even for my two desperately sad children. The funeral made it all very real for them.

  His parents hugged and kissed me, all the while telling me how much he loved his children and me. If I had to listen to his mother go on about the flower arrangements or how the government was being so good to us for one more minute, I would kill someone. The more time I spent celebrating my husband's life, the more I was looking forward to meeting the infamous Servario and getting the shitshow James had left me, over with.

  I wanted to be sick every time someone wished us well and grieved for us.

  I wanted to spoil the sweet knight-in-shining-armor-bullshit appearance James had managed to maintain.

  Oh yes, he was a real gem of a husband, all the while fucking my best friend and the PTA bitches. I only knew he’d fucked two in the group, but there were several floating about the funeral, sobbing as though maybe they would also miss him dearly. They smiled and pretended to be sad for my kids. It was a bit disgusting.

  I was the girl James had accidentally gotten knocked up. The girl James wouldn’t have picked, had he been given the choice. James who was more than likely still alive and hiding out with his mistress, my best friend. Meanwhile, I was about to be going into a deep-cover op and risking my life to keep his kids safe. I could’ve chewed my nails and spit bullets.

  God help him if I ever found him alive and well.

  I excused myself from the people I stood next to, who I wasn’t really listening to anyway, and went to the ladies’ room.

  My breath was getting caught in my chest again. I leaned on the sink and took huge inhales. Catching my reflection made me grimace. I was worried about the girl in the mirror. Her dark hair was greasy, although it appeared shiny in the tight bun. Her green eyes were flat and dull. No sparkle, no life lived in there. Her lips were cracked, and she had what resembled a cold sore at the corner of her mouth, but it was a pimple I’d gone after aggressively. Her eyebrows had weeks of plucking to be done and her olive skin was blotchy. She was gaunt and sort of gray in the places that weren’t reddened. It was not the face of a woman who would win the confidence of an arms dealer. Those guys always hung with the blonde girls who had perfect bikini bodies and stylish sunglasses.


  I inspected my tired-looking body and sighed. No wonder James was fucking Mel. I would have fucked her too. There was no scar marring her stomach from having his kids, and her tits didn’t sag slightly from breastfeeding. She was fit and looked the way she always had. I was different though, my body was different. I had imagined he liked the changes because they were associated with his children.

  A sob tore from my lips as my momma-bear brain switched on. I wouldn’t let myself feel shame for the way I had changed. I had born children to that bastard. Well, now they were my kids—screw him. They were all mine. He could rot in hell or Prague or Holland or wherever the hell he was, with the best friend I evidently never had.

  My anger died when I caught a glimpse of the pain on my face.

  My nerves picked up as the fears and stress became real. I wanted to do what all widows did—crawl into my bed and wait for a year to pass before I had to function again.

  I left the sink and opened the door to the bathroom but the back of a black suit was barring the way.

  “Excuse me,” I murmured.

  But he didn't move. Instead, he slipped a card over his shoulder without looking back at me. My stomach dropped, but like a robot on autopilot, I took the card before reading it.

  “Six p.m. Presidential Suite.”

  In my peripheral I saw that the card was for the Hilton downtown, again in the Financial District.

  He reached back, pressing a fifty into my palm, his warm hand engulfing mine. “For the valet,” he muttered and walked away from me, disappearing into the crowd of people wearing black.

  Glancing down at the fifty and the card, I wished Coop were with me. He was right, I was in over my head.

  I slipped the cash and the card into my wristlet and wiped my eyes before going back out to the wake.

  My mom came up to me with a weak smile. “I'm taking these guys home.”

  Nodding, I swallowed and glanced about the room. “Mom, I think they need some time away. You up for a road trip?”