Wendy Rosnau - Undercover Nightingale

Merrick looked at him, shook his head—a warning to keep his mouth shut. But how could he do that? They were about to be crucified by the media. Onyxx would be flushed down the toilet, along with every man with a checkered past. And that would be Merrick’s entire team of rat fighters—his team.

“I’ll do it,” he said.

“The hell you will.” Merrick’s fist crashed down on his desk. “I won’t agree to it.”

“I can opt out of my contract,” Ash reminded. “I’ve put in my seven years. I’m a free agent if I want to be. I can leave any time.”

“We’ll discuss it later.”

“It won’t change anything.” Ash stood and faced Stillman. “I’ll be your dog under one condition.”

“You’re in no position to make demands, Kelly.”

“If you want me, then put in writing that the SDECE doesn’t hold Onyxx responsible for the deaths of their two agents, and they have no plans to undermine Onyxx in the future in any way. Once Merrick receives the document and approves it, I’ll be on the next plane to France.”

Stillman grinned. “Your trigger boy is smarter than he looks. Or should I say, my trigger boy. The paperwork will be on your desk in two days. Au revoir, Merrick.” He turned to Ash. “Welcome to the SDECE, Mr. Kelly. À bientôt.”

Two days later, with a crust of snow still blanketing the ground, and a gray sky threatening more of the white stuff by noon, Ash arrived at Onyxx and went straight to Merrick’s office. When he stepped through the door he saw his boss studying a document on his desk.

Burgess Stillman hadn’t wasted any time. It looked like he should start packing for Paris.

He wasn’t happy about that, but if it guaranteed that Onyxx wouldn’t be exploited, he’d make the sacrifice. He owed Merrick more than just his life.

“Have a seat, Ash. I’m sure you know why I called you in.”

“How does it read? Will it keep Onyxx out of the hot seat?”

“It will.” Merrick leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. “We could refuse the letter and let whatever happens happen.”

Ash sat. “Call Stillman’s bluff? I don’t think so. My take on him is that he doesn’t make idle threats. Besides, Onyxx can live without me. One man doesn’t make an agency.”

“You hated what Onyxx stood for when I brought you in. Now you act as though you actually like us here.”

“I didn’t have a choice back then. But today I know it was the best thing that could have ever happened to me and my family.”

“I needed you back then, and the agency still needs you today. Contrary to what you think, you won’t be easy to replace.”

Ash grinned. “You’ll find another criminal in a tight spot. Someone who wants a second chance.”

“I told Stillman it takes an outlaw’s mentality to survive in this business, but it takes a helluva lot more than that. It takes a man who values loyalty and is willing to bet his last breath on himself and his comrades. It’s true my men have traveled both sides of the line, but that’s just a small part of who they are.”

Merrick steepled his fingers on his chest. “I know why you did this. You blame yourself for the deaths of those two French agents, just like you still blame yourself for Sully’s death in Greece. But you can’t fix this any more than you can bring those agents back, or Sully.”

“I won’t pretend that it doesn’t bother me that Stillman’s agents are dead. Or that one was a woman, and that it was my bomb that killed her. Had we known they were there, they could have gotten out in time.”

“I don’t want you going into this feeling guilty. Guilt eats at a man, and it can make him take chances he wouldn’t normally take. So don’t make this personal.”

Merrick chastising him for living with guilt—that was choice, coming from a man, who after seventeen years, continued to carry around an acre of blame over his wife’s death.

They were more alike than anyone knew, perhaps more than any of the other rat fighters. They were both recovering alcoholics, both had lost family and close friends, and both felt responsible for their deaths.

Guilt, the blood-sucking parasite that no amount of therapy or alcohol could suffocate.

“As callous as this is going to sound, we deal in casualties every day here. On the other hand, I don’t want you becoming one more statistic for the SDECE. Use everything you’ve learned to stay alive. It could take some time, but I’ll find a way to get you out from under Stillman’s thumb. Only a handful of people know who you really are. Your survival in that stink hole prison in Chihuahua gives you an edge. Anything Stillman throws at you I know you can survive.”

“Then don’t worry about me.”

“I’m not worried, I’m pissed off.”

“You have a right to be. Stillman is an unlikable sonofabitch.”

“On a lighter note, did you get to see your family while you were on sabbatical?”

“Yes. I spent a few weeks in Mexico, then bought a boat and sailed to Spain. It was good to see my mother. She seems happy. Robena, too. My little sister is getting married in a few months.”

“And your cousin?”

“Naldo… He’s not doing as good as I’d hoped. He misses the old life. Probably always will.”

“Do you miss it?”

Ash shrugged. “Not so much. We were rebels back then, me and Naldo. Horny bastards with no limits, and too much money to value what was really important. I see things differently now.”

“I’ll contact Stillman and let him know you’ll be in Paris tomorrow. Watch your back and don’t trust anyone. Stillman’s a desperate man, and desperate men play desperate games.”

“A desert scorpion doesn’t curl up and die when he’s cornered.” Ash grinned. “He just gets meaner.”

Merrick’s serious expression softened and a hint of a smile tickled his gray mustache. “Use the past, and whatever else you’ve learned here at Onyxx to keep breathing. And if you need anything, call. Stillman might believe you’re his new trigger boy, but you’re just on loan.”

Ash stood and extended his hand. “You’re a straight shooter, Merrick. I’ve always respected that. Whatever happens, know that I’m grateful for what you did for me and my family.”

“The men in this screwed-up world are always going to run it, baby doll. No sense fighting what you can’t change. But a woman can survive if she can cash in on a man’s weaknesses. He’s got two, his belly and what dangles between his legs. So learn how to cook, and how to ride a man with confidence. Take it from your mama, the bills don’t get paid going to church and keeping your legs crossed. That was a joke, baby doll. Crossed…get it?”

A smile surfaced on Allegra’s face. For months she had been struggling to remember pieces of the past. But Bonnie had never left her.

Her mother had found a way to survive in a world that had dealt her a going-broke hand. Allegra had been six when her father had left them. He was a selfish man who never should have had a family.

The bitter truth had turned Bonnie against men, but it hadn’t stopped her from using them to pay the bills. When Allegra turned sixteen, a fancy-dressed lawyer paid her a visit the morning after her mother died. It was then she had come to realize just how much her mother had sacrificed—Mama’s will allowed her to be buried in style, with enough left over for Allegra to go to college.

The trip up the coast had all been about Bonnie’s wisdom. Allegra had been conditioned to survive. It had been how she’d lived all her life.

That’s why she’d seen to the cooking over the past four days and focused on Filip’s belly. What dangled between his legs, however, hadn’t been addressed yet. Filip had made no attempt to touch his woman. He hadn’t taken her to his bed, or come to hers.