Stone Cold Undercover Agent

He wondered if the women inside knew that only a couple of yards away, in a decent-size shed, The Stallion kept all the things he denied the women. Computers and phones and an array of weapons, which was where The Stallion was leading Jaime now.

“We have a situation I want you briefed on. Then you may go back to our Gabriella and finish your...” He trailed off and shook his head as he locked and chained the back door they’d exited into an overgrown backyard. “Sex is such a base instinct, Rodriguez. Women are a worthless expense of energy. I’m fifty-three, for over half my life I have searched for the perfect woman and failed time and time again. Though, I will admit the women I’ve kept are of exceptional quality. Just not quite there...”

The man got a far-off look on his face as they walked through the long grass toward his shed. It was the kind of far-off look that kept Jaime up at night. Void of reason or sense, completely and utterly...incomprehensible.

The Stallion patted his shoulder again, tsking. “I know this is all going over your head. You really ought to work on your English.”

Jaime shrugged. It suited his purpose to be seen as not understanding everything that went on because of a language barrier, and at times it had been hard to remember he was supposed to barely understand.

But when The Stallion started going on and on about women, Jaime never had any problems keeping his mouth shut and his expression confused. It was broken and warped and utter nonsense.

The Stallion unlocked the shed and stepped inside. Two men were sitting on chairs around The Stallion’s desk, which was covered in notes and technology. The man strode right to it and sat on his little throne.

“Herman’s gone missing,” he said without preamble, mentioning The Stallion’s most used runner in Austin. “He didn’t deliver his message today, and so far no one has figured out where he disappeared to. Wallace, I’m giving you the rest of today to find him. He can’t have gone too far.”

The fair-haired man in the corner nodded soundlessly.

“If he somehow gives us the slip that long...” The Stallion continued. “Layne, you’ll take him out.”

Layne cracked his knuckles one by one, like he’d seen too many mobster movies. “Be my pleasure. What happens to him if Wallace finds him, though? I wouldn’t mind getting some information out of him.”

The Stallion’s mouth curved into a cold, menacing line that, even after two years, made Jaime’s blood run cold. “Rodriguez will be in charge if we find him. I’d like to see what he can do with a...shall we say, recalcitrant employee. ¿Comprende?”

“Sí, senor.”

“Wallace, you’re dismissed. Report every hour,” The Stallion said with the flick of his wrist. “Layne, have the interrogation room readied for us, please.”

Both men agreed and left the shed. Jaime stood as far from The Stallion as he could without drawing attention to the purposeful space between them. The man steepled his hands together, looking off at some unknown entity Jaime was pretty sure only he could see.

Jaime stood perfectly still, trying to appear detached and uninterested. “Did you need me, senor?”

The Stallion stroked his forehead with the back of his thumb, still looking somewhere else. “Once we figure out what’s going on with Herman, I’ll be moving on to a different location.” His cold, blue gaze finally settled on Jaime. “You’ll stay here and hold down the fort, and Ms. Gabriella will be yours to do whatever you please with her.”

Jaime smiled. “Excellent.” He didn’t have to fake his excitement about that, because Jaime was almost certain Gabriella had exactly the information he’d need to pull the sting to end this whole nightmare of a job.

And then Jaime could go back to being himself and figuring out...who that was again.

Chapter Three (#ua443a2e0-39b1-5b8e-9c7c-2ae6decd0d50)

Gabby considered taking a nap in lieu of lunch. Her little visit, which she couldn’t begin to understand, however, had eradicated any appetite she’d had.

That man had acted like two different people. Even the way he talked when The Stallion was present and when he wasn’t was different. His voice, when he’d spoken with her, had only the faintest touches of Mexico, reminding her of her parents’ accents—a sharp, hard pang of memory.

But when he spoke to The Stallion, it was all rolled R’s and melodic vowels. Even his demeanor had changed. That goal or determination or whatever she thought she’d seen in him just...disappeared in the shadow of The Stallion. He was someone else. Something more feral and menacing.

But, despite the very disconcerting shirt-ripping, and the way his gaze had most definitely lingered on her chest, he had been honest with her thus far.

He hadn’t hurt her, but he’d let her hurt him. Blow after blow. Considering she’d gotten into the habit of exercising to keep her overactive mind from driving her crazy, she wasn’t weak. She had punched him with everything she had, and though he hadn’t made too much of an outward reaction, it had to have hurt.

She shook away the thoughts, already tired of the merry-go-round in her head. If she couldn’t nap or eat, she’d do the next best thing. Exercise until she was too exhausted to think or to move or to do anything but sleep.

She rolled to the ground, then pushed up, holding the plank position as she counted slowly. It had become a game, to see how long she could hold herself up like this. The counting kept her brain from circling and the physical exertion helped her sleep better.

A knock sounded at the door, which was odd. No one here knocked. Except the girls, but that was rare and only in case of emergency.

Before she could stand or say anything, the door squeaked open and in stepped the man from earlier.

She scowled at him. “I only have so many clothes, so if you’re going to keep ripping them, at least get me some duct tape or something.”

He pulled the door closed as he stepped inside. “I won’t rip your clothes again...unless I have to.” He studied her arms, eyebrows pulling together. “You’re awfully strong.”

“Remember that.”

“It could definitely work in our favor,” he muttered. “Now, where were we?”

She pushed into a standing position. “You don’t want to go back to where we were. I’ll hit you where it really hurts this time.” Why he smiled at that was completely beyond her.

“You might literally be perfect.”

“And you might literally be as whacked as Mr. Stallion out there.”

He shook his head in some kind of odd rebuttal. “Now—”

“You act like two very different people.”

He froze, every part of his body tensing as his eyes widened. “What?”

“You act like two completely different people. In here alone. With him. Two separate identities.”

He was so still she wasn’t even sure he breathed.

“Two separate identities, huh?”

“Your accent is different when he’s not here. The way you hold yourself? It’s more...relaxed when he’s with you. Rigid with me. No...almost...” She cocked her head, trying to place it. “Military.”

She knew she was getting somewhere at the way he still didn’t move, though he’d carefully changed his wide-eyed gaze into something blank.

Yeah, she was right. “You were military.”

“No.”

“Police then?”

“You’re an odd woman, Gabriella.” He said her name with the exaggerated accent, and it reminded her of her long-dead grandfather. He hadn’t been a particularly nice man or a particularly mean man. He’d been hard. Very formal. And while everyone else in her family had called her Gabby, he’d been the lone holdout.

He’d never appreciated the “Americanization” of his family, even though he’d immigrated as a young man.

“I’m right. You’re...” Her eyes widened as she put it all together. Him not hurting her. Him gathering information. Being someone else with The Stallion.