Longing and Lies (5 page)

A
shley returned to her apartment. She wasn't sure how she felt about the past few hours of her life. The reality that she would be living under the same roof as Elliot Morgan, for an indefinite period of time, was slowly beginning to solidify.

She tossed her purse on the couch, the wedding band that she'd sarcastically flashed at Elliot, picked up the light. She held up her hand. It suddenly felt heavy, as if the enormity of what she was about to embark upon was wrapped round her finger and had real meaning. Don't be silly, she chastised herself. It may be real gold but the union is a sham.

Her cell phone chirped inside her purse. She reached
for it, dug around inside and pulled out her phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, it's Elliot.”

She took in a sharp breath. “Yes. Is something wrong?”

“Not at all. I know you said back at the apartment that you didn't need any help, but I was planning on renting a small U-Haul to take my stuff and I figured you may as well put your things in there, too. Make the most of the space. Know what I mean? Pretty sure you'll want to take your music. Beats a dozen trips by car.”

Why was he being so nice to her? His hot/cold personality was driving her crazy. “Hello?”

“Oh…” she snapped to attention. “Uh, sure…I guess. When were you planning on the great escape?”

He chuckled at her quip. “How long will you need to get your things together?”

“I'll need at least a day…and I don't mean
to
-day. More like all day tomorrow.”

“No problem. I'll get it set up for Saturday. Say around eleven.”

Even though he was being the apparent perfect gentleman, his last comment, though couched in a question, was a final statement. Somehow, he'd played the whole scenario out in his head and like a chess master he'd anticipated her response.

Feeling that she'd probably been had, she was of the mind to tell him just what he could do with his U-Haul.
But as her grandmother always told her, don't chop off your nose to spite your face.

“How 'bout nine?” she counter-offered, needing some infantile mental leverage.

“Oh, early riser. Nine is fine with me. See you then.”

Before she could think of something snarky to say, he'd hung up. Annoyed at herself for being so dimwitted around him she promised herself that she'd be on her game the next time they went head-to-head. She tossed her purse on the couch and stomped off to her bedroom.

 

Mia, Savannah, Danielle and Ashley sat in their favorite booth at The Shop sipping on mimosas. It was the end of a long day for all of them. Mia had client meetings and site visits all afternoon. Savannah was brain dead from studying for her bar exam, finally taking on the challenge after too much goading from her husband and friends. Danielle had spent the afternoon shooting a bevy of temperamental models for a Victoria's Secret ad. And Ashley had spent her day sorting through her belongings and deciding what to take to her new abode. The girls had agreed to help her pack once they'd had some food and a drink under their belts.

“To a relaxing weekend,” Savannah said, on an exhausted breath, raising her glass in a toast. Her sister friends did likewise.

“Since Ashley is so embroiled in her ‘arranged
marriage,'” Danielle quipped, winking at Ashley, “I took the liberty of looking up this Elliot Morgan who has our girl's panties all in a knot.”

“He does not!” Ashley weakly protested.

“Anyway,” Danielle continued drolly, before ceremoniously pulling out her iPhone. She moved her finger around on the touch screen until she found what she was looking for. She turned the phone to face her friends. “Behold, Mr. Elliot Morgan.”

A series of wide-eyed oohs and ahhhs, hopped around the table.

“Whoa, now that's what I'm talking about,” Mia said squinting at the full-color head-and-shoulder shot.

Savannah nudged her. “Put your glasses on. He'll look even better.”

“Very funny,” Mia snapped, notorious for refusing to wear her glasses in public, which had become the standing joke between her friends.

“Hey, ladies. I heard the best of the best were going to be here,” Traci said in greeting, stealing the line from
Top Gun
.

“Hey, T,” they chorused, welcoming the newest member to the table and their sisterhood. Traci Bennett originally known as Brenda Forde to the girls, had been an agent of Jean's years earlier. She'd managed to leave The Cartel and started a new life, and had Mia not been assigned to uncover an elite escort service run by her former boss and lover Matthew Burke, Traci's identity may have remained secret forever. She'd been Matthew's
personal assistant at Avante Management and it was with her help that Mia was able to crack the case.

“What did I miss?” Traci asked as she slid into the booth.

“Mimosas and a picture of Ashley's new man,” Danielle teased, which earned her a poke from Ashley.

Danielle giggled and passed the iPhone to Traci.

“Wow. You lucked out, my sister.”

“Yes, but as the saying goes, you don't have to live with him.”

Savannah leaned forward. “Come on. How bad could it be?”

Ashley sighed. “I don't know,” she admitted. “I'm sure my imagination is making it out to be worse than it could ever possibly be. I…just…” she hesitated, hunting for the right words to describe her confusion. “He's…forget it.” She looked from one to the other. “Let's eat.
We
have packing to do.”

They ordered, talked, caught up with ongoing Cartel cases and one another's lives then headed over to Ashley's apartment.

“The apartment is unbelievable,” Ashley was saying as she went through her closet.

“I'll have to start working on your housewarming party,” Mia said as she folded and placed clothes in Ashley's suitcase.

Ashley stopped what she was doing and turned to
Mia. “This case bothers me,” she said, her voice low and intimate.

Mia sat on the edge of the bed. “You want to talk about it?”

“It's…I just wonder why Jean picked me. You know she always has a rhyme or a reason for everything she does. Nothing is random or coincidental.”

“She assigns people to cases to either force them to prove themselves, test their loyalty or help them to discover their strength,” Mia said.

Exactly, she thought. What is it for me? Her honey-brown eyes were almost pleading for an answer that she knew Mia couldn't give.
What is it that Jean knows about me?

 

The girls did their inventory of Ashley's belongings and a thorough inspection of Elliot as he lifted boxes and bags onto the back of the U-Haul rig. They all but fell over each other, helping him and trying to make small talk, which meant uncovering his entire life in twenty minutes or less.

Elliot remained cordial and mildly amused at Ashley's protectors. But he admired their loyalty and concern for their friend, which elevated Ashley in his eyes. She was obviously a woman worth caring about. Even though he didn't have the time nor the inclination to get involved and deeply care about anyone other than himself and whatever he needed to get done.

He shut the door to the truck and turned to face five sets of evaluating eyes. They were all fabulous-looking women—from Traci with her smooth sophistication to Savannah with her petite sexiness. Danielle's avant garde allure to Mia's earthy sensuality. But Ashley was the one who gave him pause. She was wild and tame, spicy and sweet, mysterious and open all rolled into one delicious package.

“That's about it. Thanks for all your help, ladies.” He leaned against the van letting his gaze bounce from one to the other.

Ashley stepped away from her crew and walked toward Elliot. “Thanks,” she softly.

He looked down into her eyes and he'd swear something jumped in his gut. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip. “Not a problem. I guess you'll drive your car?”

She nodded her head. “I'll follow you.”

He lifted his chin in the direction of the quartet. “Will your friends be joining us?”

Ashley glanced over her shoulder and bit back a laugh as she peeked at the expectant faces of her friends. She turned back to Elliot. “Maybe next time.”

Their gazes connected, then darted away. Elliot walked to the front of the van then got in his car that was hitched to the front.

“I'll see you all later,” Ashley called out, blowing
kisses and waving as she opened her car door and got in. “Thanks for all your help.” She pulled out behind Elliot. A tingle of anticipation and something akin to fear warmed her insides.

I
t took them countless “excuse mes,” “thanks,” “no problems,” and several hours to unpack and get relatively settled. They found themselves face-to-face in the center of the living room.

“All done?” Ashley asked on a breath, her hands hugging her hips.

“Yeah, how 'bout you?”

“Almost like home,” she said in jest.

Elliot gave a half smile. “I was going to check out the fully stocked fridge. Hungry?”

Her stomach rumbled in response. “Starved.”

He led the way to the kitchen and they checked the refrigerator and cabinets.

“I make a mean steak,” Elliot said, pulling a package of sirloin from the freezer.

“Sounds like a plan.”

They worked together in a comfortable silence, only interrupted by the click of cutlery, running water and Elliot's humming. Every now and again Ashley picked up on a tune he was humming and smiled, humming along with him. The vibe between them and the space they shared seemed as if this was the way it always had been between them.

Unconsciously Ashley squished the tomato that she'd held between her fingers when that singular revelation hit her. This was a job, not some reality TV show, she reminded herself, looking down at the minor mess she'd made on the counter. She stole a glance at Elliot who was putting the steaks in the oven. She drew in a long breath. Get it together, girl. She returned her concentration on finishing the salad that would round out their steak and potato dinner.

“There's wine in that cabinet by the window,” Ashley said as they sat down to eat.

“I pass. I'll have a beer. Wine messes with my head.”

Ashley grinned. “You're kidding, big strong guy like you.”

He shrugged helplessly as he got up. “My Achilles' heel, what can I tell ya.” He opened the fridge and held up a Coors, pointing the top in her direction.

“Sure, why not?”

He took out another bottle and returned to the table.

“The truth is,” Ashley admitted, twisting off the top, “wine gives me a headache.”

Elliot tapped his bottle to hers in a toast.

 

“So how long have you been working with Jean?” Elliot asked, cutting into his steak.

Ashley's finely arched brows rose for an instant as she thought about it. “Hmmm. It will be three years next January.”

“How were you recruited?”

“I was working for a marketing consortium as a consultant and one of my coworkers, Mae Lin, took me aside one day and told me bits and pieces about the organization and what she did. She told me I'd be great at it because I was always looking for the next challenge.” Ashley grinned. “I was intrigued. She said it was like being in a secret sorority with cool gadgets to play with. But that the work was serious and when government agencies didn't have the manpower, the interest or the time, The Cartel steps in. She introduced me to Jean and—” she shrugged her right shoulder “—the rest is history.”

Elliot leaned back and took a long swallow of beer. “Where is Mae Lin, now?”

Ashley smiled. “She's a news correspondent on
CBS News
.”

Elliot's eyes widened in surprised amusement. “Say what? That Mae Lin?”

Ashley bobbed her head. “Yep. Cartel members are everywhere, doing everyday jobs and no one is the wiser. That's the beauty of the organization. Some of us know each other, but most of us don't, unless we meet during an assignment.”

“Jean definitely runs a tight operation. The honchos at The Bureau and CIA headquarters think very highly of her.”

“What is your story?” Ashley said.

His expression sobered. “Went to the navy after high school. Figured it was the only way I could afford a college education and get off the streets. I grew up in Baltimore, around where they used to film
The Wire
.” He drew in a long breath and gazed off into the distance. “The things I saw in combat couldn't compare to life on the streets of Baltimore, especially back then.” His hand tightened around the bottle neck. “I signed up for Special Ops. Stayed there for five years before I signed up with the FBI, which is where I met Bernard.”

“I didn't know that the FBI handled cases outside of the U.S.”

Elliot's dark eyes flashed at her. His body coiled as if ready to strike, making her heart lurch. In that instant she again witnessed how volatile Elliot could be with just a flip of the switch. “Jean and Bernard told me you were returning from an assignment in
Europe…” she quickly added, hoping to snuff out whatever fire she'd lit.

By degrees she watched him physically relax, but his eyes remained wary.

“Let's say that I'm freelance and leave it at that. Okay?” He finished off his beer, pushed back from the table and took his dishes to the sink, rinsed, and then put them in the dishwasher. He turned to Ashley. “I'm going out for a while.” He left without another word or a backward glance.

“Well, damn,” she muttered in concert with the closing front door.

 

Elliot got in his car with no real destination in mind. All he was sure of was that he needed some space, some air between him and Ashley. He could feel the powder key of his emotions getting ready to explode and Ashley didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of that.

He glanced at the digital clock on the dash. It was still early. He hit speed dial on his cell phone. After three rings, Carmen Santiago's throaty voice filtered through the lines.

“Hello Carmen, it's E. You busy?”

“No. You in the vicinity?”

“I can be in about thirty minutes.”

“I'm here.”

“See you in a few.”

He made a turn onto the West Side Highway and headed to Brooklyn.

After cruising around for about ten minutes, Elliot found a parking space and then walked back the half block. He jogged up the steps to the parlor floor apartment of the three-story brownstone and rang the bell. Moments later the glass and mahogany wood door opened and Carmen stood in the doorway. He felt suddenly lighter.

“Come on in, babe.” She welcomed him on tip toe and embraced him in a warm hug.

Elliot kissed her cheek and gave her a squeeze. “Girls asleep?”

“They're at a sleepover down the block. Friends from school.”

“Wow. Sorry I missed them.”

“Next time. Can I get you anything? I have some Coors in the fridge.”

“Perfect.”

“Be right back.” She sauntered off barefoot to the kitchen in her oversized army T-shirt that hit her at mid-thigh.

Carmen was all of five foot two; compact, gorgeous and dangerous. She could easily take down a man twice her size in hand-to-hand combat. They'd met years earlier while they were stationed in Taiwan on assignment. Against all odds they actually became friends, confidantes. But the stress of her job was putting a strain on her marriage and after six years in Special Ops, she quit to be a full-time wife and mother. It took
a while for Phil to accept and believe that there was nothing going on between Elliot and his wife.

There is a bond that forms between people when their lives are in danger and they depend on each other for survival. But the only thing Carmen was more devoted to than her job was her husband and their two daughters. When she lost Phil during 911, Elliot was there for her every step of the way and became a surrogate father to Jasmine and Petra.

“Here ya go,” she said bouncing back into the room. She handed him the Coors, then plopped down on the love seat and tucked her legs beneath her. She pushed several curly ringlets of inky black hair behind her ears, revealing tiny gold studs. “So what's going on? How are you?” she quizzed, her dark eyes sparkling and deep dimples flashing. Behind the sexy, pixie image Carmen could run a mile flat out in under five, was as accurate with a long-range rifle as she was with a .45 with a silencer. It was what made her so effective and efficient at her job. She took every enemy by surprise.

Elliot brought the bottle to his lips and drank slowly. “Still trying to get my legs under me from the last assignment. But they have me right back in the saddle.”

“Are you okay with it?” she asked softly.

He looked into the gentle sincerity of her eyes. “The assignment, yeah.”

“So what's the problem? I know you didn't drive your
fine self all the way over her on a big Saturday night to tell me that all is well in Elliot Morgan's world.”

He tossed his head back and laughed then leaned forward, resting his arms on his muscled thighs. “I have a partner. A woman. A beautiful, intelligent, funny woman.” He took a sip of his beer. “She reminds me of Lynn.”

“Oh…” Carmen expelled on a soft breath. She hated that witch. Not because she was beautiful and smart and funny and crazy in love with E. No, it was because of what his losing her did to him.

Lynn McKnight was like morning mist, you couldn't really see how it got there but it was all over everything, clinging, and then it was gone. She'd seeped into Elliot's pores, massaged his heart and stole a piece of his soul. He was ready to give everything up for her and live a regular life. Then the most unimaginable tragedy occurred while they were both stationed overseas. Elliot was devastated.

Losing Lynn turned Elliot into a different man; one who lived on the edge, was hard and indifferent, who limited his contact with others and had a woman only to satisfy his physical needs. So if he was in her living room talking about a woman, maybe her prayers were finally answered and he had returned to the land of the living.

“There is only one Lynn McKnight,” Carmen said, not falling into the melancholy trap. “So why does she remind you of Lynn?”

Elliot eased back into the couch, contemplating the question, trying to find the words to express his emotions, which was almost foreign to his nature. He looked at Carmen who waited expectantly.

“It's not something that's tangible. It's not physical similarities or even personality,” he said, growing frustrated. “It's how…she…” he ran his hand across his close-cut hair then shook his head slowly. “I don't know what it is,” he grumbled.

Carmen smiled softly and threaded her fingers together on her lap. “Could simply be that she makes you feel something, E. Something beyond the next drama of our crazy lives.”

Elliot chuckled. “You're probably right. I've been alone inside and out for a long time, Carm. The idea of feeling anything for anybody kinda blind-sided me.”

“That's usually the way it happens,” she said with a grin. “It may be something and it may turn out to be nothing more than a momentary thrill.” She studied his expression for a moment, the hard lines of his face, the taut physique, soulful eyes and that indescribable aura that floated around him. She knew all too well what the job could do to you. It made you cautious, leery of friendships. As operatives you lived with the never-ending suspicion that no one is who they claim to be. So when you do open that door and take a chance on letting someone in and they hurt or betray you, it only reconfirms what you have been trained to believe. “So tell me about the assignment.”

Elliot drew in breath that easily helped him slip into his tactician persona, doling out facts, analyzing the information and not missing a beat.

They talked long into the night, bringing each other up to speed on their lives, their concerns about what was happening in the White House, the kids, mutual acquaintances and everything in between. They ordered pizza from Papa John's and as night drew closer to daybreak, Elliot knew he'd had one beer too many to make the trip safely back to Manhattan and crashed on Carmen's couch, just like in the old days.

He awoke the following morning to the scent of fresh brewed coffee and biscuits, and two pairs of sparkling brown eyes.

“Sssh, see I told you not wake him,” Jasmine whispered, nudging her younger sister in the side.

“Ouch! I'm telling. Uncle E, she hit me,” Petra whined, pointing an accusing finger at her sister.

Before either of them could react, he leaped from the couch, scooped them up into his arms and spun them around until they were delirious with laughter then unceremoniously dumped them on the couch, much to their delight.

“What is going on in here?” Carmen demanded with a faux frown on her face. She balanced coffee and warm biscuits on a tray. She set it down on the table.

Both girls looked at their mother with wide-eyed innocence.

“Never mind,” she conceded. She turned to Elliot. “Sleep okay?”

He stretched. “Nothing that a hot shower won't cure,” he joked. “And some hugs and kisses from my favorite girls,” he said, diving toward them and tickling their ribs. The room filled with squealing laughter.

Carmen shook her head. “There's everything you need in the bathroom.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He filled his mug with coffee then tossed a warning look at Jasmine and Petra. “I'm coming back to get both of you,” he said, wagging a finger, which only sent them into another fit of girlish giggles. He snatched up a biscuit from the tray and headed to the bathroom.

“Let's go, ladies, breakfast is on the table.” She hustled the girls off to the kitchen and for a moment lost herself in the sensation of having a man around again, which gave her all the more incentive to check out this woman who'd gotten Elliot's attention. She still had friends in all the right places that would be willing to do her a favor for old times' sake.

 

Several hours later, after swearing on the girls' SpongeBob blanket that he would come and see them soon, Elliot said his goodbyes and began the return trip to Brooklyn and his new home. Spending time with Carmen and the girls had done his mind and spirit a world of good, he thought as he cruised through the early Sunday afternoon traffic of churchgoers. He
wondered if Ashley went to church, what she believed in, if anything. He pushed those kinds of thoughts out of his consciousness. As Carmen had said while they talked last night, the main thing to remember is that this is about the job.
Sure, get to know her
, she'd advised,
but at the same time you can't let it cloud what you were assigned to do. And if there is any real vibe going on between you two, there's always time afterward to pursue it.