Page 8 of Deadly Charade

“I’ll do it.”

Oh, now she speaks.

Bryce’s and Turner’s attention snapped to Kira. “I want to be in the field. And while I’m grateful to work in linguistics while I was healing, I don’t want to be there forever.”

Turner leaned back in his chair. “I have no doubt you’ll make a fine field agent, Miller. I wouldn’t have tapped you for this assignment if I didn’t think you could handle it. I saw in your file that you did some short-term undercover work when you were with the NYPD. That helps me approve you for an assignment like this, since you’re still in your probationary period. Just don’t go rogue and chase Russian men in back alleys, please.”

Bryce’s mind spun in a thousand directions. He might finally catch a break on his case. So why was he hating so hard on this whole thing? The minor inconvenience of a fake undercover marriage would be worth it in the end if he closed his case. Wouldn’t it?

Turner stood. “Open your packets. All the information you need is in there. And one more thing. You start tomorrow.”

Bryce snapped his lips shut and opened the manila envelope. The contents included a floor plan of a house, information on Alexandr and his wife, and a dossier for their new identities.

Brian Beckett, married to Katrina Beckett, living in Manhattan. Both worked for a billionaire private art collector rumored to have a stolen painting in his collection valued at over $200 million.

The pictures of the three-story brownstone mansion resembled something out of a magazine. Lush landscaping and a patch of green lawn created the postcard-worthy appearance. Just what he needed—to move into a pretentious neighborhood with his “wife” and pretend like he belonged. A far cry from growing up as a kid in the backwoods of West Virginia. At least he’d lost the accent.

He shook his head to dislodge the thoughts of his broken and broke upbringing. “This is where we’re staying?” He turned to Kira. If he was out of his element in this kind of place, she’d never make it in her leather jacket and black jeans.

Turner nodded. “We lucked out. It’s a short-term rental that is fully furnished. I’ve expedited the paperwork, but we have the green light for this assignment. The undercover unit is working overtime right now to get you set up with what you need.” He pulled a grocery store bag from his drawer and slid it across the desk to Kira. She took out a box of hair dye and held it like it might poison her. “I wasn’t kidding about the hair, Miller,” he said. “You need a disguise. And a new wardrobe.”

She pulled out an envelope of cash from the package, and Bryce noted he had one also. At least the FBI would spring for new clothes.

Turner ushered them out of his office. “I’ve got work to do. And so do you.” He shut the door, and Bryce stood there a moment trying to process.

Kira started for the elevator and he hurried after her. “Well,” she said, “I guess we should get to know each other since we’ll be in close quarters for a while.”

Bryce smirked. What had he gotten himself into? He’d gone from finding Kira interesting to being “married” to her in less than twenty-four hours. He punched the elevator button. “Let’s read through the information and we can quiz each other about our aliases on our ride out to the house.” His private life was off-limits as far as he was concerned. But—maybe spending time with Kira wouldn’t be the worst assignment in the world.

They rode the elevator in silence so thick he could cut it with a knife. He walked toward his car with Kira at his side. “How about I pick you up first thing in the morning? Does nine a.m. give you enough time to get ready?”

Kira’s eyes narrowed, and she flicked her gaze at the Harley parked two spots over from his own Honda Civic. “I guess I can’t show up riding my Harley.”

“Yeah, you may need to dial back the bad-girl vibe a bit. You saw the pictures of the house. This is high society.”

She groaned. “Right. I’ll have to play the part. At least it’s just for a few weeks.”

Bryce took out his phone and sent an email to the undercover unit to see if they had a luxury car in the FBI fleet. They might be able to score a fancy ride from the cars the FBI seized from illegal activities. They needed to arrive in style, right? “Why don’t you go home, get ready, and I’ll pick you up in the morning. Says here the surveillance equipment will arrive tomorrow in a moving van, and they’ll be the official movers.”

“Of course.”

Her dazed look from earlier had faded and determination now shone in her eyes, silently communicating that despite her displeasure with the assignment, she’d give it 100 percent. And that was all the confirmation he needed.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, a move that took him by surprise, as if his hand had a mind of its own. “This isn’t ideal, but we’ll make the best of it. But for now, maybe stop at some high-end store and pick up fancy clothes? I’ll do the same.”

The warmth emanating from her sent his pulse pounding, and he dropped his hand to his side. What had him all flustered? The assignment or spending time in close proximity with Kira? She wasn’t his type, but the thought of being trapped with her for the foreseeable future intrigued him. It wouldn’t hurt to get to know her a little better.

And maybe, somehow, in the midst of everything, he’d find the break he needed in his case.

Yes, he could do this.

A fake wife with black—or blond—hair. A house he’d never afford in his lifetime. Mingling with wealthy elitists. Protecting an ugly rabbit statue. A smuggling ring to bring down. And a new rookie partner to protect.

What could possibly go wrong?

3

KIRA HAD POCKETED THE CASH, shoved her emotions to the side, and gone on a shopping spree in her roommate’s closet. She’d save the FBI funds for later expenses.