Lisa Phillips - Double Agent

Doug’s team was probably here on the same mission. Too bad for them that she was going to get to Parelli’s computer first. She’d always had a problem with sharing.

Her steps were muffled on the plush carpet. Despite the price tag that came with this suite, it was still just a hotel room. Something inside her yearned for home, but she pushed it away. Now wasn’t the time for that.

The desktop was bare. The safe in the bedroom closet was shut and locked. Sabine entered the code she’d memorized and held her breath.

She drew out the laptop, flipped it over and pulled a screwdriver from her purse. The hard drive slid out into her hand. She secured the cover again, set the laptop back in the safe and glanced at the watch face on her bracelet.

Still enough time to search the room.

Clothes were strewn over every available surface, and the bathroom counter was cluttered with men’s hair-care products. Sabine rolled her eyes. It wasn’t like he was a movie star or a male model or anything like that.

Satisfied there was nothing else worth taking, she turned to exit the suite.

The lock on the outer door clicked.

Her breath stuttered and a blue baseball cap appeared between the now open door and the frame. She shoved the hard drive in her purse and blanked her face.

Doug’s gaze found her in the middle of the bedroom—dark caramel eyes that gave nothing away. He filled the doorway, so tall that, if he didn’t shave his head, his hair could have touched the frame. So wide it was a wonder he didn’t get stuck. Sabine was tall herself, but Doug made her feel small in a way that had nothing to do with self-worth and everything to do with comfort.

Her brother had been skinny and baby faced his whole life—even at thirty-one years old, Ben had looked more like a kid playing dress-up in his uniform than an actual soldier. Doug, on the other hand, made that dark green dress uniform look good. Mouthwateringly good.

Today his navy blue T-shirt was damp with the heat of the day, and his cargo shorts and ball cap were every tourist’s go-to apparel. Only there was nothing about him that blended in.

Doug closed the door and held up the clear plastic with Christophe’s fingerprint on it. She shut her eyes. She’d left it on the scanner. She wanted to reprimand herself over such a simple mistake, but put a hand on her hip instead. “What are you doing here?” Her voice shook more than she’d have liked, but it was too late now.

“What am I— Seriously? That’s what you’re going with?” He glanced around the room. “Let me guess...CIA?”

She stiffened. He wasn’t supposed to get it right the first time.

“Did Ben know about this?”

Her stomach surged like a storm-fueled wave. “You don’t get to talk about my brother.”

He stepped closer. “This is about him, right? Ben is the reason why we’re all after Parelli.”

She hated that he pitied her. And that his voice had to go soft. He’d been there when Ben was murdered by a sniper on what was supposed to be a routine mission. As far as she was concerned, that meant Doug was responsible.

“We need to talk but not here. Let’s go.”

Sabine blinked. “Excuse me? I happen to be working.”

Doug looked away. “Copy that, California.” He surged forward. “Someone’s coming. We have to hide.”

Apparently “California” was the handle of the newest member of Doug’s team—the electronics expert who had replaced her brother, Ben. She didn’t want that thought to touch her, but the knife slipped in, anyway.

She loved Ben’s old team: Barker, the big African-American Texan who always smiled; Hanning, who looked like a male model in his designer clothes; Franklin, so ordinary in appearance that she had almost overlooked him, until she got to know him and found out his heart was large.

Doug dragged her to the closet and closed the partition door so they were shrouded in darkness. He pulled on her arm and tried to get her to move deeper into the closet, but she shrugged him off.

“Sabine,” he hissed.

Nose to the wood, she studied the suite through the slim gap in the door. “They’re here.”

Christophe Parelli sauntered in and tossed his sunglasses on the bed. A woman followed him, wearing a red dress similar to Sabine’s. She, too, had long, dark hair. In fact, the resemblance was so striking that Sabine sucked in a breath through her nose.

The woman moved to the fridge in the corner and pulled out a glass bottle of amber liquid. She took her time pouring two drinks and then handed one to Christophe. With the limited view Sabine had, she couldn’t make out the woman’s features. Her bearing was familiar, but Sabine couldn’t place where she’d seen her before.

Doug touched Sabine’s shoulder. She took another deep breath and expelled it, low and slow. As soon as the woman and Parelli left, then Doug and Sabine would be able to get out of there.

Christophe held up his glass. “A toast, to a beautiful relationship.”

“Yes.” The woman took a sip of her drink, while she watched Christophe swallow his. “Too bad it cannot continue.”

Christophe jerked. The glass fell. It hit the carpet with a dull thud. His hand grasped his throat. “What did you do?” His voice was raspy.

Though the woman laughed, there was no humor in the sound. “You didn’t think I could let you live, did you? So naive. You, my dear, are a liability, and liabilities must be eradicated.”

“But—”

Christophe dropped to his knees, wheezing. Doug pulled on her arm as he tried again to draw her away from the horrific scene, but she held fast. Something about the woman would help identify her. Anything was better than admitting Sabine was seeing someone take their last breath. Again.

Doug’s hand slid from her elbow, and he stilled her fingers with his.

The woman sighed. “I know it pains you to hear it. But you are one small part, an insignificant part that I cannot allow to remain free. So goodbye, my dear. It really was a pleasure.”

Christophe collapsed to the floor. Sabine could barely see his chest move. The woman strode from the room, leaving the door wide open.

“She’s gone.”

Doug opened the closet door. “Copy that, California. Ten minutes.”

Sabine forced her gaze away from the dead man. “What?”

“Rendezvous. Let’s go.”

She didn’t move. The woman who had killed Christophe had probably used some kind of fast-acting poison that closed the airways and stopped the heart. Easy enough to get, and who cared if it showed up in an autopsy? The guy wasn’t any less dead.

Her red dress had been too much like Sabine’s. And that wasn’t the only similarity. There was only one logical conclusion.

“I killed him.”

TWO

“That woman. She was... It was supposed to look like I did it. Multiple people saw Christophe and me talking at the bar in that restaurant. People would have seen that woman come up here with him. We have the same build. The same long, dark hair. The same red dress.” Sabine blinked. “Who knew I’d be here?”

Understanding washed over his features. “We still have to go. More so if you’re going to be the number one suspect.”

Her breath came faster and faster, and she pressed her fists to the sides of her face. She was going to be framed for this. Sabine stumbled back; her ankle rolled. She hit the floor and cried out.

Doug hauled her to her feet. “We have to go.”

“Please.” She didn’t know what she was asking for.

“You want to stay here with the dead guy?” He half held, half carried her down the hall. “We need to get gone.”

Her brain spun until she was hardly able to string two thoughts together. She saw her handler, Neil, at the park under a Saturday-morning sun briefing her on the mission. “She made it look like I killed him.”