Ready, Aim...I Do!. Debra & Regan Webb & Black

He pulled it off the chair and turned it until he found the hole. “Why is there a bullet hole in my sport coat?” He stuck his finger through it, but his eyes were on her. “An explanation, Mrs. Grant?”

      “Technically that happened before we exchanged vows.”

      “Were they shooting at you or me?”

      “Me. But I fired first.” She paused, thinking it through again. “I was followed into the bar. I thought the disguise and chatting you up would be enough to dissuade him, but you were going loopy on me. So we left, but I was followed again.” As much as she’d reviewed it, she couldn’t come up with any reason Isely would be onto Jason. Isely shouldn’t know her either, but she’d been following the virus for several weeks, and someone might have run a facial recognition that tipped him off. “They were definitely shooting at me,” she said confidently.

      “All right. Is there a police report?”

      “Not that connects us because we ducked into the wedding chapel when people panicked. I fired the gun through your coat. Sorry, that’s obvious, I guess.” Why did this man make her so nervous? Maybe it was all those waking fantasies about him she’d relished.

      He stared at her for a moment. “Did it work? Our marriage ploy?”

      “You really don’t remember?”

      “Could you please stop saying that?”

      “Sure. It worked well enough.” She came closer and took the coat out of his hands, folding it so the bullet hole was hidden, then she draped it across the top of a different chair. “It made a great diversion.”

      “Good?”

      “Sort of.” She hesitated, balanced on the precipice of evading the truth or spilling it all in a messy rush of too much information. Unfortunately she was running out of time before the virus landed in the wrong hands. “Five years ago a European crime family named Isely acquired a lethal strain of influenza. A major sale was interrupted and the virus was confiscated by none other than Thomas Casey. Or so we thought. Testing proved the vials he brought back were fakes. The general consensus, if you assume Thomas Casey isn’t a traitor—”

      “Which he isn’t,” he cut in.

      “Agreed and proven. But that means someone in the Isely food chain still has the virus. It’s come back on the market recently and I’ve been following the tracking tags on the vials. One is here. I know the seller, but it would be great bonus points if I can identify the buyer.”

      “That was your assignment in Colorado.”

      “Among other things. Focus, Grant.”

      “Oh, I’m dialed in.”

      She met his intense gaze and nearly shivered in response. The man had an effect on her she could not deny. “Good.” She cleared her throat. “I need you to help me identify who’s who in this little drama. Two sets of eyes and gadding about in wedded bliss should be enough to get this done. I can watch the tracker tag and you can keep an eye on Isely.”

      “He’s here? Isely?”

      She nodded. “He surprised me. I guess he wants to oversee the transaction.”

      “Are these people I’m supposed to spot wearing name tags or carrying around steel cases with ‘live virus’ stamped on the side?”

      She glared at him. “Lucas Camp gave me the impression you were a competent agent.”

      “I am.”

      “He also implied there was more to you than the few lines on your public résumé.” She wanted to do a victory dance when she saw how that little barb dug into his ample pride.

      “I think we both know résumés are always adjusted to suit the purpose.”

      Her confidence almost faltered, but she knew she wasn’t looking at a hack or wannabe. Jason Grant was a Specialist, and how he got there didn’t matter. He was plenty qualified to help her on this. He’d agreed and she should let it go, but she had the sinking feeling there was more to it than a fear of reprimand back at the office.

      “Well then.” He rolled to his feet and gathered the breakfast dishes, putting them back on the cart. “Let’s go downstairs, play the happy couple and see what we see.”

      “Hang on.”

      One dark eyebrow lifted in response.

      “You haven’t explained why you’re here.”

      “Right.” He dragged out the word while he bobbed his head. “I don’t know. What I gave you is all I have.”

      “You really expect me to believe that?”

      “It’s true. My orders were vague. I wasn’t told anything other than the code phrase.”

      “What good is that?”

      “Not much.” He pushed the cart closer to the door then turned to face her again. “I’d think that would make you happy. I don’t have anything to distract me from what you need to accomplish. Now, shall we?”

      “Just let me check the status on the package I’m tracking.” She pulled out her phone and entered the information. What should have been a simple, quick process felt like an eternity with Jason staring at her. Finally, the feedback came through, confirming the virus vial hadn’t moved from the hotel room where the seller was keeping it.

      She smiled at him as she tucked her phone away. “It’s all good.”