Undercover Lover (3 page)

“I’ll double your salary,” David pleaded.

“No.”

Günter shook his head to clear the memory of a lush body swaying, more than a little tipsy, in his arms. Lord, it had to have been what? Five years ago? Six? When Tallis hired him to gather surveillance on Jenny while she was studying at NYU? The memory sprang back to him, fresh and unbidden—her skin soft under his fingertips when he brushed an errant curl from her face. He’d spoken with her only once, though he’d secretly watched over her—an otherwise unseen guardian—for half a decade.

“You’re the only one I can trust with her. You’re the only one who really knows her—maybe better than I do.” David broke into Günter’s thoughts.

“Piss off, Tallis.” Günter paced the foyer, shoulders hunched, bare feet slapping against the cold tile.

She’d smelled like a surreal combination of roses and fresh-fallen snow when he’d sidled up next to her in that college bar, intent on saving her from the free-roaming hands of some shitfaced jock. Telling himself he was only doing the job Tallis had hired him to do, he’d asked her to dance. She’d been in his arms for ten minutes, tops, but she’d been in his dreams ever since.

“Gun, please.” David’s desperation bled through the phone.

“No,” Günter said through clenched teeth.

“I’ll do anything. This is all my fault.”

All my fault.

David’s admission echoed in Günter’s head, conjuring another pair of brown eyes. Another city. Another lifetime. He paused mid-stride and pivoted toward the bedroom.

“Fine.” He didn’t know what made him say it.

“Thank God.” David breathed the benediction, his relief palpable.

What the fuck was he doing? This couldn’t end well.

“Tallis?” Günter’s voice sounded a low warning.

“Yes?”

“The shit you and your manager pulled? The leaks to the press? The lies? If it happens again?” He paused for emphasis, then let loose his promise, “I’ll erase you myself.”

“I’ll hand you the knife,” David agreed, and Günter heard the truth.

“Damn right.” He tapped the
end call
button before going in search of his trousers and his piece. Which item was more for Jenny’s protection he couldn’t have said, but he knew better than to walk into this situation without either.

* * * * *

“And you didn’t see anyone? Hear anything at all?”

“No.” Jenny’s answer, delivered with a shake of her tousled curls, made the investigator blow out a frustrated breath.

Günter leaned a shoulder against a marble pillar framing Tallis’ two-story living room and took in the scene with a practiced eye. A black winter jacket rested over the arm of the couch. Gold letters
D
,
E
and…was that an
A
?…emblazoned on the fabric made his eyes widen. How had the situation catapulted from vandalism to drug investigation?

Jenny sat in an occasional chair, chin raised, fingers clutching the arms. She wore a pink, fuzzy v-neck sweater, which cradled her high, firm breasts. Jeans and high-heeled boots completed the casual ensemble. Not a scuff or smudge in sight.

“Did the…” The agent looked behind him. “Wilsons see anyone?”

From his vantage point Günter could see Tallis’ elderly neighbors in the hall with the NYPD officers, but knew Jenny couldn’t see around the agent. He stood so close she had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye.

“You’d have to ask them.” Jenny’s shrug exhibited a nonchalance she couldn’t possibly feel under the circumstances.

Günter frowned. Why wouldn’t she answer the questions? Something about the DEA special agent had her on edge. Or was it just the fact he was law enforcement and she was hiding something?

Jenny curled her fingers into her palms and Günter caught her wince. A slice of red alongside a blooming bruise marred the creamy skin over one knuckle. His gaze narrowed. She’d been in a fight.

The agent studied her closely, the cold steel of his eyes beneath the blackness of his lowered brows appearing alien and reptilian. “Could you identify the vandals from a sketch or a mug shot?”

Günter quirked a brow at the trick question. If she hadn’t seen them, she couldn’t identify the perp from a mug shot. If she said yes, she’d been lying all along. Surely a smart woman like Jenny would see through such a ruse.

Jenny drew herself up and prepared to give the agent a tongue lashing in the half-American, half-Brit cadence Günter had always found so endearing.

“I told you—”

“You told us nothing.” The agent took a plastic baggie from the table behind him. “Which leaves us with you. And this.”

The baggie held a white granular substance.

Drugs… Bengal?

Günter’s mouth went dry. If she was involved in that shit, Tallis had a problem on his hands not even he could fix.

“What’s that? Sugar? You want me to make tea?”

Günter closed his eyes and sighed. Her snark wouldn’t win her any points here.

“You know what I think happened?” the agent asked, clenching the bag in his fist.

Jenny crossed her arms. “Please. Enlighten me.”

“You opened the door for your dealer. Thought perhaps as David Tallis’ little sister you were entitled to a freebie. And the hallway? That was him exacting his payment.”

“What?” Jenny shot to her feet.

Shock coursed through Günter. His angel? A drug addict? Surely he’d have seen it before now. Or had his judgment been too clouded with lust to notice the signs? He cursed himself silently as the agent stepped back and called for one of his men.

“Yes sir?” The man strode into the living room with an air of arrogant bravado that labeled him a green recruit.

“Did we get a warrant?”

“A warrant?” Jenny’s voice went up an octave.

Günter balled his fists against the urge to grab her. Push up her sleeves and examine her skin for track lines.

“No sir. The judge said the drugs weren’t on the premises. We don’t have cause.”

The agent glared at his man and tossed the bag at him. Without missing a beat, he whirled on Günter. “And who the hell are you?”

Past ready to make his presence known, Günter pushed away from the pillar. “I’m Günter Faust. Miss Ainsley’s security detail.”

Jenny turned to look up…and up…until she saw broad shoulders and a wave of hair so perfectly golden, she knew if she ran her fingers through the shoulder-length strands they would come away soaked with sunshine. He was the first breath of air she’d had since the Wilsons had rung the bell, and she savored both the reprieve and the man.

“Where were you tonight?” The agent glared at Jenny. “Not protecting her unless you’re crap at your job.”

“Mr. Tallis brought me in on this ’bout half an hour ago.” Günter’s accent caressed her ear with an earthy English lilt.

Focused on his voice, at first she missed his words. A beat later, when they registered, a prickly sweat broke out at the back of her knees. “Wait. My brother knows what happened?”

“I’m sure he pays to know,” the agent answered dryly.

She was so screwed.

Jenny faced the new man her brother had so
thoughtfully
thrust into her life. If only the Wilsons hadn’t reported the incident, she could have cleared it all up herself with no one the wiser—replaced the lamp, vacuumed the floor. It would’ve been like nothing ever happened. The press never need have known. She groaned inwardly at the thought of the barrage of questions facing her the next time she left the building.

Tilting her head to glare at the hired muscle—emphasis on muscle—she asked, “What’s wrong with the DEA or NYPD?”

Günter’s eyes met hers for the first time and Jenny almost forgot she was
this close
to getting busted for drug possession and heaven only knew what else. She’d never really seen blue until she’d seen those eyes.

“Later,” he said.

She inserted herself between him and the agent. “I’d like answers now, thanks.”

He placed palms on shoulders she’d never considered tiny until this moment and gently moved her to one side. She stared at a broad chest stretching a white golf shirt that seemed two sizes too small, and had an inexplicable sense of déjà vu. Had they met before? Leaning her hip against the arm of the chair, she jammed her hands in her pockets. Fine. She’d wait out this little fraternity meeting.

“Mr. Tallis would appreciate your passing along anything you’ve found,” Günter said to the agent. It wasn’t really a request, so much as an order, and they all knew it.

The agent almost seemed to deflate. “Well, to be honest, that hasn’t been much.”

“I told y—” Jenny started.

Günter held up a hand and for some unfathomable reason her mouth snapped shut. No wonder her brother got on with him. They were cut from the same cloth.

“Nothing on the security feed, then?” Günter asked.

Jenny’s stomach lurched. She hadn’t thought of surveillance footage.

“The tapes were tampered with,” the agent answered smoothly.

A chill went up her spine despite the good news. If someone was tampering with the tapes then this was no garden-variety assault. Her attacker had meant business. If David or the press found out this wasn’t a simple incident of vandalism, she’d have more explaining to do than she cared to contemplate.

Running sweat-slicked hands down her jeans, she stood. “I need some air.”

“I’m interested in having a copy anyway,” Günter replied, then snapped his fingers at her and pointed to a chair. “Stay right there.”

Rage mottled her vision. Who the hell did he think he was? Her father?

A picture of her biological parent—gritty and sweat-streaked, his scent sour after he’d given some loan dodger a beating—raced into her brain, searing it like a touch from a red-hot poker. She hadn’t thought so clearly of that bastard in so long that her legs simply gave out and she fell into the plush, white leather armchair Günter indicated.

“We need your credentials first,” the agent said.

“My associate will send them. We’ll let you know anything else Miss Ainsley remembers in return.”

“Ms.,” Jenny gritted in a way that belied the sick feeling in her stomach.

Günter, whose thumbs were already a blur against the backdrop of his cell, glanced at her, one white-blond brow arched toward his hairline as if to say,
Your wishes aren’t my command
.

The agent withdrew a business card from his wallet and slapped it onto the side table. Distracting herself from the battle of wills she wasn’t sure she’d win, Jenny picked up the card and ran her fingers over the ornate, raised DEA. The paper felt heavy. Thick. The seal glinted, metallic in the white light from the occasional lamp as Günter plucked it from her hand.

She scowled at him. As soon as the agent—
Gray
—left she planned to fire the members of her brother’s goon squad, including this newest unwanted addition, and go back to her normal life. In her own flat. Threats and letters be damned. David could just bite her.

“Email good? Or do you prefer phone?” Günter directed the question to Gray.

“Email’s fine.”

“Right, then.” The two shook hands and Günter ushered the agent and his cronies into the hall.

“Well that was smooth,” Jenny said when Günter strode back into the living room, sliding Gray’s card into his wallet. “I appreciate your getting rid of the cops, but you’re free to go.”

Ignoring her, he stalked the perimeter of the room examining everything—artwork, ceiling fixtures, walls.

“Would you mind telling me what you’re doing?” she asked as he grabbed a duffel and took the risers two at a time up the curving staircase leading to her room and the music studio.

“Re-familiarizing,” he said as he disappeared.

“What? Is this the Australian outback? Afraid you’re going to get lost?” she called after him. When he didn’t answer she followed.

“Which room were you in when you rang the car to get you?” he asked when she caught up with him at the studio door. He snapped on the lights, his face grim as he took in the sound-proofed room.

“I didn’t call anyone,” she lied. “I wasn’t going out…”

He closed the door and stalked past her. Apparently whatever he sought he didn’t think he’d find in the room full of electronic wizardry. Her bedroom fell under his scrutiny next.

She raced after him, eager to preserve her privacy. “Hey, do you mind?”

Of course he went in anyway. He opened her closet and pushed the clothes around as she glared at him. He lifted the dance outfit she’d thrown over a chair in her haste to get changed and cast a sidelong glance at her when he eyed a few flecks of blood. She snatched the garment and shoved it into the laundry. Whirling, she found him rifling through her underwear drawer.

“Can I help you?” she ground out, truly at the end of her patience.

He threw his duffel on her bed. Nimble fingers tugged the zipper open with an efficient jerk and Jenny had a hazy memory of a man in a baseball cap unzipping her jacket with deliberate care, his warm hands grazing her flesh, the sound of the zipper hypnotizing her until she swayed toward him in invitation. The garment had hit the floor with a soft whoosh. She shuddered now as she’d shuddered then. She frowned, trying to remember the time and place. Or had it all been a dream?