15. Butterfly

God, I wanted to say yes. Yes, to everything—him sharing my bed, having amazing sex all night, and yes, I was ready to commit to a lifetime together.

Except I wasn’t. He’d been back in my life less than a week after never really being in it. It wasn’t as though we’d been a couple before he went to prison. Or ever. We’d shared one kiss and a boatload of flirting. But that was all.

How could I be sure he was as all in as he insisted he was? On the other hand, he’d given me no reason to believe otherwise. But it was less than a week. God, some couples dated ten years or more before they decided to get married, which was what “forever” meant to me. Maybe it didn’t to Brand.

I bit my lip. “I need to ask you something.”

“Anything. You never need to hesitate.”

“Do you want to get married someday? I mean, not necessarily to me, but at all?”

His smile came through his eyes. “There is no one other than you I would ever consider marrying, and if I thought for a single second you’d agree to it, I’d whisk you off to Vegas and marry you tomorrow.” He looked at his watch. “Even tonight if we were quick about it.”

“How can you be so sure?” I asked, barely above a whisper.

“Come here.” Brand put his arm around me and pulled me close, and I rested my head above his heart. “I’ve known it since the day we met. I told myself I wasn’t good enough for you, especially after I blew my life up, but you’ve always been the woman for me, Butterfly. Always. You mentioned I hardly know you, but isn’t everything I said earlier proof that I do?”

“It is.”

“Here’s the other thing I know. You aren’t ready to hear the words I am so desperate to say to you. So I’ll wait. Because making sure you’re okay, that I haven’t freaked you out, is more important than anything else.”

I closed my eyes and put my arm around his waist. I was so thankful he was in my life. The last thing I wanted to do was mess it up. “You’re my Ike Graham.”

“And you’re my Maggie Carpenter.”

I knew he’d get my reference. Tara and I had watched the movie almost every night the year she brought him to Fire Island and he saw the butterflies for the first time.

Hadn’t I known then, too? I joked about lusting after him, but deep inside, hadn’t I known that the connection between us was something uniquely special?

“We should sleep,” I suggested. “We have the meeting with Sundance and Flick tomorrow.”

“You’re right. Five more minutes?”

I must’ve fallen asleep in less than that because when I woke, Brand had scooped me up and was carrying me to the elevator.

“I can walk,” I said, putting my arms around his neck to let him know I really didn’t want to.

“Holding you is my excuse to take the lift rather than walk up five flights of stairs.”

He nuzzled my neck when I reached down and hit the call button.

“Plus, I just like it.”

I kissed his cheek. “Me too.”

As much asI regretted not asking Brand to stay after he gently rested me on the bed, I knew it was the right decision not to. Last night, he’d told me he understood and that he’d wait. I didn’t have to explain or make excuses. He just knew and respected my struggle with insecurity.

And I loved him for it.

Maybe that was what scared me the most.

This thing between us was the exact opposite of how my relationships usually went. I was all in for the hotter-than-shit sex. As much as I could get. Then when a guy got too clingy or wanted to see me more often than I wanted to see him—outside of bed—I was history. That was my wall, and I was happy to stand behind it. Now, though, Brand saw right through it and told me he’d wait until I was ready to ask him to knock it down. I didn’t know how to do things this way.

I rolled over and checked the time. Six. Or zero six hundred, as I’d need to get used to saying if we were about to be trained by a retired military officer.

Since I knew I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, I got up, showered, and went downstairs, intending to bake something for us to have at our meeting.

Except when I walked into the kitchen, Brand was standing in front of the stove, holding a spatula, clad in pajama bottoms that sat low on his hips and nothing else.

“Good morning, Butterfly.”

“Whatcha’ doin’?” I asked, focusing on the cooktop rather than how much I wanted to rub my hands all over him. Even his bare feet were sexy as fuck.

“I was going to make bacon”—he wriggled his eyebrows and motioned to his bare chest—“but thought better of it.”

“I’d offer you my shirt, but…” I walked over to the pantry. “This may help, although not with your arms.” I handed him an apron.

“I’ll soon undergo training for hand-to-hand combat but am afraid of a little bacon grease. Oh, the irony.”

I chuckled. “It could be considered a viable form of torture.”

He turned away from the skillet where he’d dropped an entire pound of bacon. “Made worse by forcing the torturee to endure the aroma of bacon cooking and refusing to give them any.”

“I think the word is victim, not torturee.”

“I suppose you’re right. Except, new words are added to the dictionary every year, are they not? We could petition to have it included in the next batch.”

“I can come up with causes I’d much rather get behind than having torturee added to the dictionary.”

“You make another good point.”

“So, couldn’t you sleep?”

He separated the pieces of bacon, laying them flat on the griddle before turning to face me. “I had billions of things on my mind.”

I motioned to the stove. “What can I do to help?”

“Coffee would be divine. By the way, why are you up so early?”

“Second-guessing every decision I’ve ever made.”

Brand set the spatula on the counter and stepped closer to me. “Every decision you’ve made has been the right one. It led you here. To me, if you will. And me to you. For that, I’ll be eternally grateful for every horrible mistake I ever made.”

“That’s one way of looking at it.”

“All I ask is that you not second-guess me.”

“I’m trying not to. I promise.”

He glanced behind me at the coffeemaker.

“I’m on it.”

Once it was brewing, I went to the pantry and pulled out the ingredients for cinnamon rolls. They were my specialty, and I knew Brand loved them.

“I didn’t dare hope,” he said, looking over at what I was doing.

“If you’d slept a little later, they’d be fresh out of the oven and I would’ve had coffee made.”

“And still, I’ll get both, plus you’ll get bacon and eggs. What a team we are.” He wriggled his eyebrows like he had a minute ago.

“You’re such a flirt. But then, you always have been.”

“Only with you, Butterfly.”

I scoffed. “Right. You spent months in Italy. Don’t tell me pretty Italian girls didn’t try to catch your eye.”

“I said I didn’t flirt; I never said they didn’t.”

Doc showedup before the others, and while I offered to leave the two men alone to talk, Brand insisted I stay.

“Let’s get my conversation with your father out of the way.”

“Right,” said Brand. “My?—”

“Do not apologize again. You are not responsible for your father’s behavior any more than I am.”

“Understood.”

“He informed me that upon your thirtieth birthday, you have inherited half of Emsworth’s businesses and, according to the terms of the trust, you are responsible for the daily operation of those entities.”

“I haven’t received a copy of the trust in its entirety,” Brand responded.

“Until you do, you are under no obligation to act based on your father’s interpretation of what is stated within the document. Once you’ve received the trust packet Emsworth is legally required to provide, have an attorney review it. Regardless of whether it says you’re responsible for any amount of hands-on management, it would be contestable. My guess is he knows that already and has chosen to exercise power he has not been granted.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Brand muttered.

“Another topic to cover with whomever you have review the trust is precedent. It may be that upon his inheritance from your grandfather, he took on the responsibility of his own accord. Perhaps your grandfather did the same. Legally, you cannot be forced to do that, too. If the trust is worded that way, the document—or at least that section of it—would be overturned in court.”

“Understood,” Brand repeated.

“Now, let’s discuss intent. If you have changed your mind about working for K19 Security Solutions after learning of your inheritance?—”

“I have not.”

Doc raised a brow. “Let me finish, son.”

Brand’s cheeks flushed in the same way mine would’ve had I been admonished, especially by Kade.

“My apologies.”

“I’ll let that one go, but don’t say you’re sorry again. The latter half of my sentence was to say I will not hold you to the terms of your release from prison. I will remain responsible for your actions in the same way a parole officer might be, which doesn’t amount to a whole lot. Let me be clear. I do not anticipate you changing direction. I’m informing you of this in the event you think your release from incarceration prevents you from making any other decision than to remain in our employ.”

I was sure Brand appreciated what Kade was saying. While he didn’t believe he’d change his mind, now he knew doing so was entirely up to him, with no caveats. On the other hand, he couldn’t use the terms of his release as an excuse either to himself or to Richard.

“If you don’t have any questions, let’s move on to the upcoming meeting with Sundance and Flick.”

“I do not,” said Brand.

“While I haven’t spoken directly with Flick, I have with Sundance, and I want to run something by you both.”

“Go ahead,” I said when Brand muttered something similar.

“Sundance has close ties to the brass at Camp Peary, which is where CIA agents do their hardcore training. The joke is he owns the place—not possible, given the US government holds the deed. The reason I’m bringing this up is because there isn’t another facility where you can receive the same kind of training as you would there.”

“What does it involve?” I asked.

“Good question. Standard training takes a minimum of six months. Sundance is proposing ten days for the two of you to complete what he believes is essential to your undercover assignment.”

“What does that entail?” Brand asked.

Kade looked down at his phone. “I’ll let him tell you, given he and Flick have arrived.”

While Flick seemed nice enough,Sundance hadn’t cracked a smile since he walked in the front door. I could only imagine what training with him would be like, if it ever came to that. Maybe his demeanor was intended to filter out the weak. I could tell him right now that wouldn’t work on me.

After Tara, Aine, and I were kidnapped and we first went through rigorous self-defense exercises at the instruction of Doc’s business partners, followed by an in-depth indoctrination as to how to handle being taken hostage, I wasn’t afraid of much.

I’d been skydiving, bungee jumping, and cliff diving. While none of those involved hand-to-hand combat, they were scary as fuck. I’d lived through them, though, just like I’d lived through being roofied and kidnapped. I’d live through this too. Whatever it was.

I listened while Doc went over the things we’d already discussed, including the recommendation we train at what he called the Farm. He added that we’d asked what it would involve just as they arrived.

“I’ll review from start to finish,” said Sundance, who still hadn’t smiled once, including when he greeted Doc, who seemed like a close friend.

“You’ll start as any newcomer would, by sitting in a cubicle and learning what you’re gonna learn.” Still no smile, even though it appeared he was making a joke. “I forgot to mention that I’ll ask you to surrender your electronic devices before your arrival. In fact, it would be best to leave them here since you won’t be permitted contact with the outside world.” His eyes scrunched. “Or with each other.”

My eyes widened, which I hoped Sundance hadn’t noticed.

“Back to driving the desk.”

Driving the desk? What did that mean? I looked at Doc, who gave me a slight head nod, perhaps meaning he’d explain later.

“I already told you the first part. Second, you’ll be patched in to view missions. Some will be simulations, others will be live.”

“Actual ops?” Brand asked.

“That’s correct,” said Felice, who was sitting next to him.

There was something about her chiming in that Sundance didn’t like. My guess? He was a misogynistic asshole who didn’t appreciate being interrupted by a woman. I wondered how he and Merrigan got on. No matter how intimidating I found him, I doubted she would feel the same way. In fact, I could picture her putting him in his place in no uncertain terms, and it made me smile.

“Something funny, Ramsey?” Sundance asked.

“Not at all,” I responded, staring him straight in the eye.

“I’ll move on. After you complete desk duty, you’re mine.” The way he grinned when he said it, reminded me of the worst villains I’d ever seen in movies. “That’s when the hard work begins. I’ll see what you’re made of. If you can get through the first two hours, there’ll be hope for you.”

He did realize we had no intention of actually joining the CIA, didn’t he? At least I didn’t. I couldn’t speak for Brand. Maybe that was something he’d want to do.

I glanced at Flick, who rolled her eyes. “I’ll challenge you far more than he will. I’m going to teach you to think like a spy and trust your instincts enough to act on them at a moment’s notice.”

“We call it SADRRAT,” said Sundance.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Spot, assess, develop, recruit, run, and terminate,” he responded. “Most normal people wouldn’t propose marriage to someone unless they were sure the other person would say yes. The same is true with espionage. Except it’s more vital. If you get to the recruit stage and you haven’t properly assessed, you’re as good as dead.”

Flick nodded. “That’s especially true where the two of you are headed. You, in particular, Brand. Mafia syndicates will not hesitate to kill within their own ranks. Nothing will stop them from doing the same to an outsider after they torture them first.”

I looked between her, Brand, and Kade. I didn’t bother with Sundance. If I did, he’d likely see it as a weakness and exploit it. The possibility that Brand would be killed if discovered hadn’t occurred to me. It should have. The amount of money the forgers had bilked out of the Catarina Benedetto Gallery alone was in the millions. It was the kind of money people died for. And what about me? Would they somehow know my being at the auction was “undercover” work? Would they torture me to find out what I knew?

Sundance continued his overview, explaining that, during the ten days Brand and I would be at the Farm, we’d be trained in the use of various types of weapons, surveillance and countersurveillance tools and methodologies, as well as captivity survival, assassination tactics, and demolition procedures.

Demolition procedures? What were we going to do? Blow up an art auction house?

Again, I understood there was danger involved in what Brand proposed we do, but I was beginning to think I was in way over my head. I wasn’t the kind of person who quit things easily, but I wasn’t naive enough to think I was capable of learning how to be an undercover agent in ten days.

“You’ll also be trained in speedboat handling and defensive driving, where you’ll learn how to flip cars and respond within seconds if swarmed by armed militia fighters. Which leads us to terrorism.”

“Terrorism?” I’d managed to keep my comments to myself until now. How had we gone from art to terrorists?

“What’s involved in it that’s different?” Brand asked.

Sundance had a glint in his eyes. “You’ll have to identify roadside bombs and learn what to do if one blows up on you.”

When they took a break from talking, probably to allow Brand and I to process what we’d been told so far, I studied Kade’s colleague.

I could see how, back in the day, he’d probably looked a lot like the actor who played the Sundance Kid. Then it occurred to me that his last name was familiar. If it wouldn’t mean he’d confiscate my phone now, I’d look it up.

“Longabaugh,” I said out loud when the connection dawned on me.

“You just figure it out?”

“That was the original Sundance Kid’s last name,” I guessed.

“That’s right. Know what his middle name was?”

“Alonzo?”

“You got it. My parents had a weird sense of humor, I guess.”

His tone changed, and his words sounded more respectful than they had. Maybe he’d decided I wasn’t as empty-headed as he first thought.

“You mentioned we wouldn’t be communicating with one another,” said Brand.

I almost forgot Sundance had said it.

“That’s right.”

No one at the table spoke for several seconds. Maybe like me, Kade, Flick, and Brand expected Sundance to elaborate.

After they left,saying we’d depart for the training facility at zero seven hundred hours, Brand and I sat in silence for several minutes. It was on the tip of my tongue to bow out now, but maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as it sounded.

Then again, while we were still in California, Brand had mentioned he was rethinking my involvement.

“Butterfly?”

I smiled. “Yes, Michelangelo?”

“I hesitate to say it, but are you certain you want to proceed?”

“Not certain. However, I think I’d be angry with myself if I didn’t at least try.”

“I feel the same way,” he responded, almost too quietly for me to hear.