Read My Spy: Last Spy Standing Online
Authors: Dana Marton
My Spy: Last Spy Standing
The stakes are higher and the danger is bigger in Dana
Marton’s HQ: Texas miniseries.
A mission gone wrong forced injured soldier Jamie Cassidy to
start anew…and run right into the path of deputy sheriff Bree Tridle. The sassy,
sexy Texan was as determined to uncover a local money-laundering scheme as Jamie
was to keep her safe from the stalker hot on her trail. But Jamie, now an
undercover operative, was also on a covert mission of his own: track smugglers
threatening to bring terrorists into the U.S. Could Jamie’s and Bree’s cases be
related? When a deadly attack on Bree’s home escalates the danger and their
attraction, Jamie and Bree must face their enemies together to save not only
their country, but their one chance at love.
2 books in 1!
LAST SPY STANDING
also included in this book!
“Whatever threat is jeopardizing the peace of this town and the law, you can be sure I'll be out there fighting it.” Bree pressed her full lips together.
Jamie wondered what she'd do if he tried to kiss her. His pulse quickened. As unpredictable and unreasonable as she was, she might just shoot him.
Not that kissing those lips wouldn't be worth the risk. Not that he was going to do it. He was in town on serious business. And women were no longer part of his life, anyway. He had too much baggage, too many nightmares. He had no right to bring that into a relationship and mess up somebody else's life along with his.
He was a trained killing machine. That was about it. He planned on living the rest of his life using what skills he had in the service of his country. He stood. “Forget about me and my team.”
Although, he was pretty sure he wasn't going to be able to forget about her.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Dana Marton is the author of more than a dozen fast-paced,
action-adventure, romance-suspense novels and a winner of a Daphne du Maurier
Award of Excellence. She loves writing books of international intrigue, filled
with dangerous plots that try her tough-as-nails heroes and the special women
they fall in love with. Her books have been published in seven languages in
eleven countries around the world. When not writing or reading, she loves to
browse antiques shops and enjoys working in her sizable flower garden, where she
searches for “bad” bugs with the skills of a superspy and vanquishes them with
the agility of a commando soldier. Every day in her garden is a thriller. To
find more information on her books, please visit
www.danamarton.com
. She loves to hear from her readers and
can be reached via email at
[email protected]
.
Books by Dana Marton
HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE
933—BRIDAL
OP
962—UNDERCOVER SHEIK
985—SECRET
CONTRACT*
991—IRONCLAD COVER*
1007—MY
BODYGUARD*
1013—INTIMATE DETAILS*
1039—SHEIK SEDUCTION
1055—72
HOURS
1085—SHEIK PROTECTOR
1105—TALL, DARK AND LETHAL
1121—DESERT
ICE DADDY
1136—SAVED BY THE MONARCH**
1142—ROYAL
PROTOCOL**
1179—THE SOCIALITE AND THE BODYGUARD
1206—STRANDED WITH THE
PRINCE**
1212—ROYAL CAPTIVE**
1235—THE SPY WHO SAVED
CHRISTMAS
1299—THE BLACK SHEEP SHEIK
1328—LAST SPY
STANDING
1358—SPY HARD
1364—THE SPY WORE SPURS
1448—MOST ELIGIBLE
SPY***
1453—MY SPY***
*Mission: Redemption
**Defending the
Crown
***HQ: Texas
My Spy
&
Last Spy
Standing
Dana Marton
My Spy
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Bree Tridle—
When a stalker returns from her past, deputy sheriff Bree Tridle’s life is in danger. Dare she accept help from a handsome stranger who has the singular ability to get on her last nerve?
Jamie Cassidy—
An undercover operative with a dark past, Jamie is watching the border to catch some terrorists. Seeing Bree in danger doesn’t sit well with him, especially since he suspects there might be some serious bad guys after her.
The Coyote—
A mysterious and powerful crime lord on the south side of the border. His true identity is unknown.
Katie Tridle—
Bree’s sister. Since Katie lives with autism, Bree is extra protective of her. No way is she going to let her stalker put Katie in danger.
SDDU—
Special Designation Defense Unit. A top-secret commando team established to fight terrorism and other international crime that affects the U.S. The group’s existence is known only by a select few. Members are recruited from the best of the best. Jamie Cassidy is part of a six-man team from the SDDU who are stationed on the Texas–Mexican border.
With many thanks to my wonderful editor, Allison Lyons.
This book is dedicated to my readers who are my support, my inspiration, my true friends, online and off. Your kindness means more to me than words can say.
Chapter One
He had two weeks to gain the information he needed to stop terrorists with weapons of mass destruction from entering the country. But everything his six-man team had done so far had been a bust.
Undercover operative Jamie Cassidy sat with his back to the wall in the far corner at the Yellow Armadillo, a seedy, small-town bar on the backstreets of Pebble Creek, Texas. Country music streamed from overhead speakers; the place was dark and dingy, the food was fried within an inch of its life. But the beer was cold, the only nice thing that could be said about the joint.
“So you have no idea who the new boss is?” he asked the scrawny farmhand across the table.
Billy Brunswik fingered the rim of the tattered Stetson on his lap, his eyes on his empty glass. A cowboy tan left the top of his forehead white, the rest of his face several shades darker. His checkered blue shirt was wrinkled and smudged with dirt, as if he’d been wearing it for more than a day or two. He silently shook his head.
Jamie had his own cowboy hat and jeans and shirt to fit in, a far cry from his usual commando gear. In a place like this—a known hangout for smugglers—being spotted as a government man could quickly earn you a bullet in the back.
He waved the perky blonde waitress over for another round for Billy but didn’t return her flirty smile. His attention was on the man across the table. “It’s tough. Believe me, I know.” He waited until the waitress left. “In this economy, and they cut off work. Hell, what are you supposed to do? Who do you go to now?”
“Nobody knows nuthin’.” Billy set his empty glass down and wiped his upper lip with the back of his calloused hand, then pulled out a tin of chewing tobacco and tucked a pinch between gum and cheek. “I can barely buy groceries for the girlfriend and me, I’ll tell you that.”
Jamie watched him for a few seconds, then slid three twenties across the table. “I know how it is.”
Billy was on the cash like a duck on a june bug, the bills disappearing in a flat second. He looked around nervously, licking his crooked yellow front teeth. “I ain’t no snitch.”
Jamie gave a sympathetic nod. “A man has to live. And I ain’t asking for nothing that would get you in trouble. Just need enough to show the boss I’ve been working.” He shrugged, playing the halfhearted customs agent role.
Billy hung his head. “I do work a little,” he admitted. “When nobody’s lookin’. Just some weed.”
“Who do you kick up to?”
“Ain’t nobody there since Kenny.”
And no matter how hard Jamie pushed the down-on-his-luck farmhand after that, Billy didn’t give up anything. Although he did promise to get in touch if things changed.
Developing an asset was a slow and careful business.
Jamie left the man and strode across the bar, looking for familiar faces as he passed the rows of tables. The two border towns his team watched, Hullett and Pebble Creek, had their share of smugglers, most of them lying low these days. He didn’t recognize anyone here today.
He paid the waitress at the bar, stepped outside into the scorching heat then shoved his hat on his head and rubbed his eyes. He’d spent the night on border patrol, then most of the morning running down leads. His legs hurt. The doc at Walter Reed called it phantom-limb pain.
He resisted the urge to reach down and rub his prosthetic limbs. It did nothing for the pain, and he hated the feel of the cold steel where his legs should have been.
He strode up to Main Street, came out by the bank and drew a hundred out of the ATM while he was here, since Billy had cleaned him out. Then his gaze caught on the bookstore across the street. Maybe a good read would help him fall asleep. When on duty, his mind focused on work. But when he rested, memories of his dark past pushed their way back into his head. Sleep had a way of eluding him.
He cut across traffic and pushed inside the small indie bookstore, into the welcoming cool of air-conditioning, and strode straight to the mystery section. He picked out a hard-boiled detective story, then turned on his heels and came face-to-face with the woman of his dreams.
Okay, the woman of every red-blooded man’s dreams.
She was tall and curvy, with long blond hair swinging in a ponytail, startling blue eyes that held laughter and a mouth to kill or die for, depending on what she wished.
His mind went completely blank for a second, while his body sat up and took serious notice.
When his dreams weren’t filled with blood and torture and killing, they were filled with sex. He could still do the act—one thing his injury hadn’t taken away from him. But he didn’t allow himself. He didn’t want pity. Foreplay shouldn’t start with him taking off his prosthetics—the ultimate mood killer. And he definitely didn’t want the questions.
Hell, even he hated touching the damn things. Who wouldn’t? He wasn’t going to put himself through that humiliation. Wasn’t going to put a woman in a position where she’d have to start pretending.
But he dreamed, and his imagination made it good. The woman of his dreams was always the same, an amalgamation of pinup girls that had been burned into his brain during his adolescent years from various magazines he and his brothers had snuck into the house.
And now she was standing in front of him.
The pure, molten-lava lust that shot through his gut nearly knocked him off his feet. And aggravated the hell out of him. He’d spent considerable time suppressing his physical needs so they wouldn’t blindside him like this.
“Howdy,” she said with a happy, peppy grin that smoothed out the little crease in her full bottom lip. She had a great mouth, crease or no crease. Made a man think about his lips on hers and going lower.
He narrowed his eyes. Then he pushed by her with a dark look, keeping his face and body language discouraging. Who the hell was she to upset his hard-achieved balance?
He strode up to the counter and paid with cash because he didn’t want to waste time punching buttons on the card reader. He didn’t want to spend another second in a place where he could be ambushed like this. The awareness of her back somewhere among the rows of books still tingled all across his skin.
“I’m sorry.” The elderly man behind the counter handed back the twenty-dollar bill. “I can’t take this.” He flashed an apologetic smile as he pushed up his horn-rimmed glasses, then tugged down his denim shirt in a nervous gesture. “The scanner kicked it back.”
“I just got it from the bank across the street,” Jamie argued, not in the mood for delay.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Everything okay, Fred?” The woman he’d tried to pretend didn’t exist came up behind Jamie.
Her voice was as smooth as the kind of top-shelf whiskey the Yellow Armadillo couldn’t afford to carry. Its sexy timbre tickled something behind his breastbone. He kept his back to her, against enormous temptation to turn, hoping she’d get the hint to mind her own business.
Then he had to turn, anyway, because next thing he knew she was talking to him.
“I’d be happy to help. How about we go next door and I’ll help you figure this out?”
The police station stood next door. All he wanted was to go home and see if he could catch a few winks before his next shift. “I don’t think so.” He peeled off another twenty, which went through the scanner without trouble. Next thing he knew, Fred was handing back his change.
“I really think we should,” the woman insisted.
Apparently, she had trouble with the concept of minding her own business. He shot her a look of disapproval, hoping she’d take the hint.
He tried to look at nothing but her eyes, but all that sparkling blue was doing things to him. Hell, another minute, and if she asked him to eat the damned twenty, he would have probably done it. He caught that thought, pushed back hard.
“Who the hell are you?” He kept his tone at a level of surly that had taken years to perfect.
The cheerleader smile never even wavered as she pulled her badge from her pocket and flashed it at him. “Brianna Tridle. Deputy sheriff.”
Oh, hell.
He looked her over more thoroughly: the sexy snakeskin boots, the hip-hugging jeans, the checkered shirt open at the neck, giving a hint of the top curve of her breasts. His palms itched for a feel. If there was such a thing as physical perfection, she was it.
Any guy who had two brain cells to rub together would have gone absolutely anywhere with her.
Except Jamie Cassidy.
“I’m in a hurry.”
“Won’t take but a minute.” She tilted her head, exposing the creamy skin of her neck just enough to bamboozle him. “I’ve been having a hard time with counterfeit bills turning up in town lately. I’d really appreciate the help. I’ll keep it as quick as possible, I promise.” The smile widened enough to reveal some pearly white teeth.
Teeth a man wouldn’t have minded running his tongue along before kissing her silly.
Another man.
Certainly not Jamie.
Okay, so she was the deputy sheriff. The sheriff, Kenny Davis, had been killed recently. He’d been part of the smuggling operation Jamie’s team was investigating. A major player, actually.
After that, Ryder McKay, Jamie’s team leader, had looked pretty closely at the Pebble Creek police department. The rest of them came up squeaky clean. A shame, really. Jamie definitely felt like his world would be safer with Brianna Tridle locked away somewhere far from him.
She was too chirpy by half.
He didn’t like chirpy.
But if she wasn’t a suspect, she could be an ally—if he played his cards right. Although poker wasn’t the first thing to spring to mind when he thought about playing with her. He could no longer feel the air-conditioning. In fact, it seemed the AC might have broken since he’d come in. The place felt warm suddenly. Hot, even.
He loosened the neck of his shirt. “Fine. Five minutes.”
He held the door for her, regretting it as she flashed another gut punch of a smile. She better not read anything into that basic courtesy. He’d been raised right, that was all. He couldn’t help it. He wasn’t falling for her charms, no way, he thought as she walked in front of him, hips swinging.
The gentle sway held him mesmerized for a minute. Then he blinked hard as he finally focused on one specific spot. Was that a small firearm tucked under her waistband, covered by her shirt? Hard to tell with his eyes trying to slide lower.
He looked more carefully. Damn if the slight bulge wasn’t a weapon. She’d been armed the entire time and he’d never noticed. He was seriously losing it.
He drew in a slow breath as they walked into the station. On second thought, forget developing her as an asset. Working with her would probably be more trouble than it was worth.
He was going to tell Brianna Tridle where, when and exactly how he’d come into possession of the stupid twenty-dollar bill in question. Then he was walking out and not looking back. If he had even a smidgen of luck coming to him, he’d never see her again.
* * *
“I
REALLY
APPRECIATE
this.” Bree measured up the cowboy with the bad attitude.
Not a real Texas cowboy, actually. He was missing the Texas twang, his general accent making it difficult to pin down from where he hailed. And he wore combat boots with his jeans. It threw off his cowboy swagger. He had shadows all around him, his aura a mixture of dangerous and sexy. He was hot enough to give women heart palpitations on his worst day.
Not that that sort of thing affected her. She was a seasoned law enforcement officer. “And your name is?”
“Jamie Cassidy.” He didn’t offer his hand, or even a hint of a smile as he scanned the station.
She’d bet good money he didn’t miss many details. Fine. She was proud of the place, clean and organized. The dozen people working there were the finest in South Texas. She would trust each and every one of them to have her back.
While he examined her station, she examined him.
He stood tall, well built, his dirty-blond hair slightly mussed as he took his hat off. When he ran his fingers through it in an impatient gesture, Bree’s own fingertips tingled.
He had the face of a tortured angel, all angles and masculine beauty. His chocolate-brown eyes seemed permanently narrowed and displeased. Especially as he took in the metal detectors she’d had installed just last week.
Lena, the rookie officer manning the scanner, held out a gray plastic tray for him.
Bree offered a smile. “We just upped our security. If you could hand over anything metal in your pockets and walk through, I’d appreciate it.”
She was in charge of the station until the new sheriff was elected. They’d had an incident recently with a drunk housewife who’d come in to file a complaint against her husband, then ended up shooting a full clip into the ceiling to make sure they believed her when she said she
would
shoot the bastard if he came into her new double-wide one more time with muddy boots.
She’d been a bundle of booze and wild emotions—the very opposite of Jamie Cassidy, who seemed the epitome of cold and measured.
He scowled as he dropped his cell phone, handful of change and car keys into the small plastic tray. “I’m going to set the alarm off.” He tapped his leg. “Prosthesis.”
That was it, then, Bree thought as she watched him. The reason why his walk had been off a smidgen. “Not a problem, Lena,” she told the rookie, who was staring at him with dreamy eyes. “I’ll pat him down.”
“No.” His face darkened as his gaze cut to hers.
They did a long moment of the staring-each-other-down thing. Then his lips narrowed as he fished around in his shirt pocket and pulled out a CBP badge.
Customs and Border Protection.
And the plot thickens.
She tilted her head as she considered him. Why not show the badge sooner?
Maybe it was a fake. She’d worked pretty closely with CBP for the past couple of years. She’d never seen him before. If she had, she would have definitely remembered him.
She widened her smile. Defusing tension in a bad situation always worked better than escalating it. “I need to check you just the same. New procedure. Sorry.”