Undercover with the Nanny Read online

  “It wasn’t like that at all. Dammit, you matter to me. I fought our attraction tooth and nail, but you got inside me—”

  “No, you got inside me.”

  “Stop it, Kate. Just, stop it. You’re important to me, and none of this other shit is. Yes, I initially made contact with you because of your relationship to Cabrera, but that has no bearing on now. He’s the suspect; you’re not. Listen to me. I don’t want to lose you.” His voice cracked at the end, and he realized what he said was true. He couldn’t lose her.

  He didn’t know how it had happened, but it had. He’d fallen for Kate Munroe like he’d been shoved off a cliff. She was more important than this case, even his job. Fear slammed into him, a spiked ball to the chest. This couldn’t be the end of them. She couldn’t be leaving his life. He’d broken every rule, professionally and personally, because of her. He had to make her understand how important she was. His stomach clenched when he thought he might not be able to.

  “If I wasn’t a suspect, why didn’t you approach me officially, work out a deal for me to introduce you to Mr. Cabrera? Why did you do all this cloak and dagger rigmarole? Why weren’t you truthful?

  “I’ll tell you why. Because I was a suspect. And you thought by making me fall in love with you, you’d get all the information I might have, and that I would lead you to the head honcho. And for a side bonus, you’d get all the sex you wanted.”

  Her mouth was still moving, yet it was as if he’d been struck deaf. Only one word stood out in the jumble of nonsense she continued to spout. Only one word gained purchase amid his roiling thoughts. Love? She was in love with him?

  He went hot, and then cold, like a fever chased by the chills. She’d fallen in love with him? He didn’t have time to wrap his mind around that bombshell; she was steamrolling on.

  “What, no smooth excuses? It doesn’t matter. I can’t believe anything that comes out of your mouth.” She whipped around and disappeared through the doorway before the roaring in his ears faded. He lurched after her, and found her in his bathroom, grabbing her extra set of clothes from the hook on the back of the door.

  While the word love reverberated through him, he watched her, a small part of him yearning for her to stop what she was doing and pull him into her arms, explain how she knew she was in love. He’d never been in love, didn’t know the signs. How did she know? Was it that incredible magnetism he felt whenever he was near her, like now? Or was that lust?

  He didn’t know. But as she prepared to leave his life, he lamented the loss of that sparkle in her eyes whenever she looked at him. The way he felt her gaze on him whenever he moved. How he felt ten stories tall when she looped her arm through his and walked beside him. He missed her waspish comments that made him laugh out loud, and she hadn’t even left the room yet. Was that love?

  He didn’t know. All he knew was that, by his actions, he’d taken what they’d had and shredded it into a million pieces, never to be reconnected. She was right. He shouldn’t have acted on their attraction, but since he had, he should have revealed his identity once he’d known she was innocent. Continuing the subterfuge had brought them to this no-going-back moment, and he wanted to bawl his brains out, when he hadn’t shed a tear even when his father died.

  “Get out of my way, Agent Hayes. If I’ve forgotten anything, dump it on my porch. But be careful; there are cameras everywhere.”

  She shoved past him, her arms filled with discarded clothes. He stood dumbly watching her, his heart slowly crumbling in his chest, leaving a peculiar ache in its absence. He made one, last plea.

  “Kate, please. I’m sor—”

  She opened the front door and looked at him. “Stow it, Sawyer. I’ve had enough of your lies and conspiracy theories. But don’t worry; your secret’s safe with me. As long as you stay clear of me, you can accuse Mr. Cabrera of being on the grassy knoll, for all I care. It makes just about as much sense as your make-believe. He has a little boy. I doubt that he’d jeopardize his child’s safety for what you’re suggesting. But, whatever. This is goodbye, Sawyer.” The door closed behind her, shutting off the last hope he’d held for her understanding.

  He jerked when the front door slammed. She’d said goodbye. Not goodbye, like she was going to the store, but goodbye, like, forever. His insides shriveled, the words rattling around in his head, shrapnel that could never be removed or forgotten.

  She wouldn’t come back, tell him she’d changed her mind. He knew it. For as little time as they’d been acquainted, he got her thought processes better than his own. That was funny, in a bizarre way. How could he understand how she felt, yet not know his own feelings? Was it a matter of not knowing, or not wanting to face what he already knew deep down inside?

  He spun around and stalked into the secondary bedroom, eager to find something to do that didn’t involve self-analysis. He approached the computers, just in time to see Kate enter her apartment on one of the screens and dump the clothes she carried onto her living room floor.

  Then she did a slow three-sixty, and he held his breath, guessing what she was about to do right as she raised her middle finger in a sharp, one-fingered salute before disappearing into her bedroom. The ache that stabbed him in the heart was physical. He rubbed the area over that organ as if he’d been struck.

  He heard her phone ring, but she remained out of sight. At least she believed what he’d told her about no cameras in the bedroom.

  “Hello?” Christ, her voice, distorted through the audio bugs, still managed to shiver down his spine, increasing the ache in his chest to a heavy throb. He bit his lower lip, listening to the one-sided conversation.

  “Now? No, I can come, it’s just…it’s kind of late, Mr. Cabrera. How can anyone look at a house at this time?”

  Stupid, stupid girl, Sawyer chanted in his head, reaching for his own phone. Don’t question the bastard. That’ll only make him suspicious.

  “I’ll be right there, sir.”

  Sawyer scrolled his contact list, stabbed Ian’s number, and glared at the monitors. What a shit-show he’d made of this investigation. He should never have slept with Kate, should never have fallen for her, and certainly should never have told her about her boss’s secret career. Jesus, not only had he jeopardized his own job, he’d endangered an innocent civilian, who thought she was a ball-buster when it came to men. But she had no experience with loose cannons like Cabrera and Ortiz.

  Ian picked up on the first ring. “Yes, sir.”

  His mocking respect had Sawyer squeezing his cell so tight he was surprised the apps didn’t fly off its screen. “Cut the crap, Ian. We have a situation. Where are you?”

  “Watching Cabrera’s house, just like you ordered.” The sneer was still evident in every word the younger officer said. Sawyer breathed in through his nose. On the monitors in his closet, he saw Kate exit her front door, slapping the lights off in her apartment as she went. Shit.

  “Cabrera just called Kate to his place, supposedly to babysit while he goes out. He hasn’t left this late before. I want to follow him. Get Tim to watch the Cabrera house. You and I will tail Cabrera.”

  No response. A sense of urgency enveloped him, creeping past his usual confidence, releasing doubt through his system like nuclear fallout. It made his tone sharp as he snapped, “Do you copy?”

  One more beat of silence before, “Yes, sir. Glad you’re back. Boss.”

  Cutting their connection, Sawyer allowed himself a tiny smile of relief before striding to his room to change clothes. Something different was going down. Maybe this was the break he’d been waiting for. With any luck, Cabrera would lead them straight to Ortiz, and they could end this cat-and-mouse game once and for all. Kate would be safe with Bobby under Tim’s watchful eye. Even if she’d just given him a well-deserved kiss-off, it didn’t change the fact that he wanted to keep her safe. He’d simply get no thanks for the effort.

  He left only minutes after Kate, confident that tonight was going to render some new results in this
ass-kicker of a case. What would happen to him for his unbefitting behavior, remained to be seen.

  For now, he’d apprise Sanchez of the unfolding events on the way. There would be time enough for his confession later.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The lights on either side of the road flashed by in a kaleidoscope of stars, blurring Kate’s vision as she fought back the tears brought on by Sawyer’s confession. He was a cop? An undercover DEA agent? He’d lied about his entire existence, made love to her as that fictitious person, all while investigating her as a drug-dealing accomplice? Even though he’d said he’d believed she was innocent, at one point she’d been a suspect. And he’d capitalized on their insta-attraction to get closer to her.

  She sniffed, determined not to spill tears over him. He’d lied to her from the moment they’d met, made her love him, and then pulled the rug out from under her. He didn’t want to lose her. Of course, he didn’t want to; she was his ticket to Cabrera.

  She lifted her foot off the accelerator while her mind shot to Mr. Cabrera. Did he work for a drug cartel boss? Was he really a pilot for a drug lord, shuttling the man around to his warehouses like Sawyer suggested? Was he working tonight as a real estate agent, or was he doing drug dealings? Should she even go there? It might be better to call Mr. Cabrera, tell him she had a flat.

  Her car continued to slow along the coastal highway as her thoughts waged war. Mr. Cabrera’s late-night excursions had always seemed odd to her. Maybe Sawyer was right about him. If she continued, and he turned out to be a criminal, did that make her an accessory? Was she going to be arrested and sent to prison after the fact?

  At the thought, her chest tightened, constricting the flow of air in and out of her lungs. The road illumination distorted until it resembled one of Mr. Cabrera’s pieces of modern art. Kate gasped, gulping in oxygen while she fought the panic clutching at her. No. Sawyer had said he knew she was innocent. He wouldn’t have lied about that. She paused, rethought her logic. But, how could she be sure? He’d lied about every other aspect of his life, why not whether he believed she was innocent, or not? It was all part of his subterfuge. Wasn’t it? She sniffed again.

  She couldn’t believe anything he said. He’d probably been acting his part, telling her what he thought she wanted to hear. She wouldn’t get off Scott-free; life had shown her that. She’d be rounded up with Cabrera and whomever else Sawyer was investigating. Hell, Sawyer would probably be the one to slap the cuffs on her, and not in a role-playing way.

  She shook her head and pressed down on the accelerator. It was all too bizarre. She’d been working for Mr. Cabrera for over six months, and nothing weird had happened. The man had always been polite, had never come on to her, and the salary he paid her was helping lower her parents’ debts. Sawyer could be wrong about Mr. Cabrera. It all came back to whether she could believe what he said. She’d be real watchful tonight, but she’d bet it’d be like all the other times she’d gone to babysit Bobby. Uneventful.

  The guard at the community gate waved her in, after a longer-than-necessary glance. She didn’t know him. Was he one of Sawyer’s acquaintances? Mr. Cabrera’s? As she drove past the guardhouse, she shook her head, trying to remove the suspicions that clogged her brain like flotsam. If she wasn’t careful, she’d expect DEA agents and drug dealers to jump out of every bush along the road.

  The Cabrera house looked quiet when she pulled up in front of it, only the porch light shining its anemic glow. She turned off the engine and stared at the house. This was her last chance to leave. Did she believe Sawyer, or trust what she’d dealt with for the past six months: a workaholic dad and his starved-for-attention little boy. She grabbed the door handle. Put like that, it wasn’t a hard decision. Bobby needed her.

  Locking her car, she passed the tinkling fountain and knocked on the front door. It was Mr. Cabrera who opened it, dressed in casual black slacks and a long-sleeved, black shirt, open at the collar. After a quick glance at her, he pivoted and strode farther into the house, saying over his shoulder, “Good, you came quickly.”

  Kate followed more slowly, a sense of unease drifting over her even though nothing seemed amiss. It was late enough that Bobby would be in bed, so that wasn’t the issue. Maybe it was the suspicions that Sawyer had planted about Mr. Cabrera that were casting this pall over her. But it intensified when she rounded the corner to find that her boss wasn’t alone. Standing by the large, granite counter was a Hispanic woman and a man whose stocky build resembled a nightclub bouncer’s.

  Kate’s gaze ricocheted from them to Mr. Cabrera, who shrugged into a leather bomber jacket with no explanation for their presence.

  “Is…everything okay with Bobby?” she ventured, stopping in the arched entry of the kitchen. Her boss waved a hand at the other woman, who still hadn’t said a word, and she disappeared through the rear doorway, and up the back stairs. The bouncer-guy didn’t move a muscle.

  “Bobby’s fine. These people work for me. I need your help on a certain project, so they’ll make sure Bobby is safe while we’re gone.”

  The hair rose at the back of Kate’s neck. “G-gone? I—I don’t want to go anywhere.” She started to back up. Mr. Cabrera produced a nasty-looking gun from his jacket pocket and pointed it at her. As she stared down the barrel of that beast, the meal she’d eaten hours ago threatened to reappear. She swayed, grabbing hold of the doorjamb with one hand. The gun never wavered in his grasp. Sawyer was right.

  “You don’t have a choice, Miss Munroe. Not since I discovered that Bobby’s coach, your boyfriend, isn’t who he says he is.”

  Pretend ignorance, her sluggish brain commanded. “I—I don’t know what you mean. Sawyer w-works for an oil company. And—and he’s not my boyfriend.” She took a step backward, but he lifted the muzzle of the gun, and she stumbled against the wall.

  This couldn’t be happening. She was a nanny to a sweet little boy whose father didn’t spend enough time with him. She didn’t work for a drug dealer’s pilot. He was a workaholic realtor. And the man she loved wasn’t a DEA agent investigating her boss—and her. She didn’t live that kind of life.

  “Get your ass over here. If I wasn’t sure before, your expression tells me everything I need to know. I found a tiny listening device in my office phone today. You checked out as exactly what you are, Miss Munroe. He’s the only other person that has been in my home. I’m betting he’s DEA. No response? Doesn’t matter. He wants me, and I want you as a hostage, but if you won’t cooperate, I’ll shoot you and let Rodrigo here hide your body. Your boyfriend will still assume I’ve got you. It’ll only lose a little of the punch I’ve got planned for him. Move!”

  Kate jumped when he spoke, and scurried to him, where he grabbed her hair, yanking her head back until she was staring into his face. She hadn’t ever noticed how soulless his expression was, had simply figured he was always preoccupied with work. Now, she realized, his dark eyes were fathomless pits of burning oil, smooth and emotionless, yet flickering with a heat that promised never to extinguish. How had he ever fathered a child as sweet as Bobby?

  “Why does he want you? And, he’s not my boyfriend,” she repeated, bluffing. “Really. We’re just fr…friends with benefits.” Was that the right thing to say? The wrong thing? She didn’t know how to talk to a drug dealer. If she minimized her relationship with Sawyer, was that good? Would Mr. Cabrera use her as bait, like it seemed he wanted to? Or would he kill her because she wasn’t important?

  Maybe it would be better to paint Sawyer as the villain, using her to get closer to Cabrera and his boss. It was the truth, after all. The pain from that knowledge was a knife lodged in her chest, piercing deeper with every breath she took. It almost overshadowed the fear pulsing through her as she stared into Cabrera’s angry face. Almost.

  “Hmmm. Perhaps. Like I said, your face tells me otherwise, chica. He matters much to you. I can’t imagine you are any less in his affections. Either way, he’s an officer of the law, and because of that, is sworn
to protect you, especially from the big, bad drug dealer that he thinks you work for.”

  His gaze coursed over her, and she shivered. He smiled, leaned down and brushed a cold, chaste kiss across her lips before releasing her with a quickness that knocked her against the granite island.

  His attention switched to the bouncer-type, and Spanish flew from his lips like a Gatlin gun. Kate quickly scrubbed at her mouth before Cabrera turned back and grabbed her arm, tugging her forward. Rodrigo nodded at whatever his boss said, and then Cabrera pulled her toward the garage entrance. She leaned back, dragging her feet. If she entered that garage, that vehicle, she wouldn’t be getting out of it. All her instincts told her so.

  He yanked her arm so hard she thought he’d pulled it from its socket. She cried out in pain, but it was nothing compared to the slap across the face that she received. Tears stung her eyes as she cupped her jaw with both hands.

  “I told you, Miss Munroe, we are taking a trip. If you prove difficult, I can adjust Hayes’s punishment not to include you. Now, get in the car. Front seat,” he snapped, when she deliberately ran to the rear door.

  Oh God, this has to be a bad dream. Let me wake up in Sawyer’s arms. Don’t have him be an undercover cop. Don’t have Bobby’s dad holding a gun and threatening to put me in a body bag. Please, please, God.

  Even as the prayers entered her head, Kate knew this wasn’t a nightmare. She wasn’t going to wake up in Sawyer’s arms, or even in her own bed. She was living in the present, and only had herself to rely on. With that in mind, she opened the car door slowly, dragging out the time before she was locked in the vehicle with a vicious criminal. Mr. Cabrera had already smacked her around once. She had no desire to be his punching bag again. Her face still stung.