4. Madeline

Making the trip to the FBI field office in Jacksonville with Adam was one more massive step outside her comfort zone, but Madeline took it happily. She understood that she'd have to meet the Special Agent in Charge and get his buy-in on her role.

Adam wasn't a rogue agent—actually, he was a contract agent—and she very much appreciated his adherence to rules. So, she'd agreed to the meeting, expecting a movie version of an FBI agent.

Daryl Caine was more Denzel Washington than the guy who played Mulder in X-Files. He was good-looking, no-nonsense, and someone who didn't color outside the lines. She based that on his tidy desk, crisp suit and tie, and his reaction when Adam introduced her as his unofficial partner on the Cassano investigation.

"Unofficial?" SAC Caine pinned her with warm brown eyes, peering over the wire rims of his reading glasses as he took a breath so deep, his nostrils quivered. "That's not a word I normally relish."

Adam chuckled as if this was not news to him. "But ‘indict' and ‘charge' are two of your favorites. Sometimes you have to bend the rules to get there, sir."

The other man's brows flicked to show his opinion of rule-bending. "With all due respect, Ms. Wingate, you haven't been vetted. You have no experience. And I don't know you from, well, if you'll excuse the pun, Adam."

Madeline smiled, already sensing Daryl Caine would be a tough nut to crack. She'd need…a nutcracker. "The first thing I heard in my unofficial capacity was the name Serifino," she said. "Adam indicated that might be important to you."

Those brown eyes widened. "Louis Serifino? Yes. That's their newest hire, though we don't know who he is, what he looks like, or how he fits in. We'd like answers to all of those things."

"Maybe I can help," she said.

"Maybe you can," he conceded. "Did you get anything else?"

"There's a shipment coming in, and payment due from a guy named Jamie."

"I have a hunch that's Jamie Verity," Adam added, although Madeline had no idea who that was or why he mattered.

But Daryl did, tipping his head as he acknowledged the comment and studied the open file in front of him.

"A good hunch, which"—he looked back up again—"is what you always have and why I keep you around, Logan. Your gut instinct is generally impeccable." Daryl leaned back in his seat, regarding Madeline. "Why would you want to do this, Ms. Wingate?"

"Because it's the right thing to do. Adam shared the situation with me…" She slid him a look, hoping she wasn't throwing him under the bus. "And I knew Bella, recently engaged, would need a wedding dress. So I suggested I act as his eyes and ears, and report what I hear if I landed the job to make her dress."

Daryl stared at her, looking like he was very much assessing her ability to do that.

"Madeline's not only a trusted friend," Adam said. "She's a local business owner and part of a well-respected family. She is, quite honestly, the last person Nico or his family would suspect as a mole."

She shifted in her seat at the word "mole," suddenly feeling like she was in a movie. The Undercover Dressmaker, starring the least likely person to star in anything. Which was why she was perfect for the role.

Daryl flipped a page in the file, and the corner of his mouth twitched like he wanted to laugh but had the wherewithal not to. "An ‘old, trusted friend,' is that it, Adam?"

"Yes, sir," Adam said. "We've known each other for more than twenty years."

He gave a dubious look and suddenly Madeline realized exactly what Daryl knew—everything.

"Madeline was your target on a Chanel white-collar crime in New York, and you were way more than friends." He glanced from one to the other, landing on Adam. "We keep files, remember?"

"I thought those were purged a long time ago," he said.

He snorted. "Adam, let me introduce you to the FBI. I saw your files when you came back from Europe, and I wanted to find the best way to use your skills."

"Of course," he said. "But even if the files haven't been purged, the required time has passed, and I told Madeline the truth, as I was fully allowed to do."

"So, no bad feelings?" Daryl asked Madeline. "Because most people don't like to be, uh, exploited, for lack of a better word."

She nodded in agreement. "I've forgiven Adam for the lie, and understand his job and why things happened as they did. I see no reason to hold on to old grudges."

"Well, Adam's always been gifted at talent recruitment. Then again, he's not the only one with Spidey senses around here," Daryl said. "I know a capable person when I look at one. You appear to be bright, cautious, and observant and you'll have that indefinable ability to stay in the background."

She smiled. "My favorite place in any room."

Daryl eyed her with a glimmer of amusement, then looked down at his file again. "We'll have to run a background check, fingerprints, and vet you. Assuming you pass, you may listen and report. And that is all." He looked up to underscore the point. "You already obtained valuable information with the name Serifino, which could help us a lot. Find out more on that guy."

"Any reason in particular?" Adam asked.

"The Tampa DA wants to talk to him for a court case that's coming up," he explained. "But no one knows how to find him. If either of you can get a location on him or discover what he does for the Cassano family, it would be helpful."

"I'll do my best," Madeline said, happy for the direction.

"Your best should be nothing but listening and watching," Daryl replied, all humor disappearing from his expression. "These aren't nice people."

She swallowed. "I understand."

"Do you?" he challenged. "First of all, Madeline, no cover is un-blowable, especially by a novice. Nico Cassano isn't the worst of what's out there, but some of the people he hires—like the mysterious Serifino—can be. You need round-the-clock protection, which Adam will give you."

Round the clock? Madeline frowned and sneaked a look to Adam.

"I'll watch her closely," Adam said. "I'll be on-site every time she meets with them, but not in the room."

"You'll do more than that," Daryl said. "I said round the clock. Do you live alone, Madeline, or…"

"I do. I live in a townhouse that's walking distance from my studio in Fernandina Beach."

"Well, you don't live alone anymore." He nodded to Adam. "You move in ASAP and create a cover to explain why. You're both single, so I strongly recommend you aren't anymore, if you get my drift."

Madeline might have gotten his drift, but she wasn't sure she loved it. "You mean pretend to be a couple to explain why he's with me all the time?"

"Why he's living with you," Daryl said. "You should not be alone, Madeline. That's non-negotiable. And so is this: silence is the only way."

"Silence?"

"With anyone you know, are related to, or run into in town. You cannot and will not break your cover, which is Adam's girlfriend and a dressmaker for this bride. You cannot tell anyone the truth. No one. Not a single person, is that clear?"

There was no way it couldn't be clear when he said it that way, but…

"My family is very—"

"No one." He dragged out the words and punctuated them with a look that probably made grown FBI agents cry. "If you do, the job is over, and Adam will be out."

She felt blood drain from her face as the reality of what he was asking hit her—she was supposed to live with Adam, as his girlfriend, and not tell her family the truth. How?

It was wrong on so many levels, she wasn't quite sure which one to jump on first.

"The Cassanos don't know you, do they?" Daryl asked, shifting his attention to Adam.

Adam shook his head. "I've been to their restaurant, but I was with Maddie," he said. "And I asked Maddie's father for an introduction by telling him I had a potential buyer for Nico's boat. He didn't get past the first gatekeeper, who informed him Nico isn't selling the Captain's Table."

"Perfect," Daryl said. "Both contacts connect you to her. And you've been seen in town together?"

"I went to her sister's wedding last month," Adam answered, probably because Madeline was still…speechless.

"Then it'll work," Daryl said. "Twenty-four-seven protection, complete silence, regular meetings here with me. If there is an ounce of curiosity about her from anyone in that family, we're done. Madeline pulls out of the job, and you both leave town indefinitely."

What?Madeline tried to swallow, but couldn't.

She hadn't planned on living with a man and not telling her family the truth.

"I have some more information in a file we'll get to you," Daryl said in response to a question Adam asked but Madeline was too gobsmacked to hear. "You can read it for names, places, and the like. That trial in Tampa is dancing around their orbit, but nothing the DA has come up with so far pins Nico to anything specific."

Madeline nodded, the words getting knotted in her head like cheap thread on loose satin.

"Truth is, Cassano's real value is how much he knows," Daryl continued, and she tried her best to pay attention. "He could be the key to winning that Tampa case, but we'd need to make a deal. To do that, we need something concrete on him. I'm optimistic about this infiltration, but it's a long game, maybe more time than it takes to make a wedding dress."

"When's the trial in Tampa?" Adam asked.

Daryl grunted. "It keeps getting moved. Apparently, Judge Nance runs a fluid and flexible courtroom and his calendar shifts with the weather and, I suppose, golf tournaments. Right now, it's scheduled for late June, so we have some time."

"The wedding is scheduled for the third Saturday in June," Madeline told them.

Daryl stood, extending his hand. "Welcome aboard, Madeline. If you can provide information that will help us bring down the Cassano family, you will have done a tremendous service to your hometown, this state, and the world in general."

And she'd do it while living with a man and her family wouldn't know why.

"That's why I'm here," she said softly, but even as she did, she was starting to wonder if she hadn't made the biggest mistake of her life.

By the timethey left the FBI field office, Madeline had a schedule of interviews—including a polygraph test—plus a burner phone, oodles of instructions, and a raging headache.

She'd come down to Jacksonville on her own for this meeting, since Adam was living nearby—or he was until he moved in with her—so they walked to their cars in silence under cloudy skies before saying goodbye.

"Are you hungry?" he finally asked. "We can go somewhere and—"

"No. I just want to get back to the studio and work on a dress."

He nodded, stopping next to her car with her. "I can stop at my apartment and get some things, if you don't mind waiting, then I'll follow you home."

She took a breath, the truth bubbling up in her. "I'm not sure I can do it."

"Oh, Maddie." He reached for her hand. "Say the word and I'll get you out of this."

She squeezed his hand, looking away, working to unjumble her thoughts.

"I don't mean you staying in my apartment," she finally said. "I have a guest room. But if I am not telling my family the truth, they'll think we're…living together as…a couple. No, I can't."

"Why else would I live there?" he asked. "They're going to want a reason and, Madeline, you're a grown woman."

"Can't we dream up another reason?" she countered. "Because…it's convenient? Maybe you lost your lease and need to be up there to work? Because you're broke? I don't know!"

"None of those are very believable," he said.

"And neither is our living together," she insisted. "Have you met me? Do I look like the kind of woman who'd live with a man she's been seeing for a month?"

He sighed, not arguing with that, thankfully.

"Can't we tell them you're my roommate?" she asked. "Chase is living in Raina's house and they're not…together."

"A cover should not raise questions," he said. "If we're a couple, it's simple. If we try to make it complicated, it's a red flag."

Oh, there'd be plenty of questions, she thought. Starting with an inquisition from her father.

She dropped her head back, letting the first drizzle of rain hit her face. "The bottom line is I would never live with someone, period. That's more out of character than helping out a friend. Also, I can't lie to my family. That's the worst part of all this. It absolutely is not in my nature."

"Neither is spying on a crime family," he reminded her. "If you're going out of your comfort zone, Maddie, go all the way out."

She pressed her hand to her chest, considering that advice and just how upset she was.

He pulled her hand away, threading their fingers, looking deep in thought.

"Do you have a better idea, Adam?" she asked hopefully.

He was quiet for a long moment, then nodded. "I might."

"What is it?"

"Let me think about it. You better go before it starts to pour."

She nodded and let him hug her, wishing the answer was obvious. After they said goodbye, she headed home in her own car.

On the way, the rain intensified, which only slowed traffic and made her headache worse.

Peering through the wet windshield, she watched traffic through the wiper blades, trying to imagine the explanations ahead…or the possibility of backing out of the whole deal.

And then what? Give up Bella's dresses? Yeah, she could do that, but then she'd always know that this evil man was operating on Amelia Island, and she'd done nothing to stop him because…she was scared.

And not of the bad guys!

She couldn't lie to her family. Why couldn't she trust them? They wouldn't tell anyone. Would they?

She supposed she understood that it would be asking a lot. If any of them told just one person, who'd tell another person, and wham. Ginny would hear and Madeline would be…swimming with the fishes in the Amelia River.

She almost smiled at the overdramatic thought, but was it so outrageous? The SAC of the FBI field office wanted her to have twenty-four-seven protection, so maybe she'd gotten herself in way too deep.

She should renege on the whole deal.

But the thought made her almost as sick as the thought of lying to her family. This might be the most worthwhile and exciting thing she'd ever done in her whole boring life, and she was going to walk because she didn't want to fib to the family? A fifty-year-old woman?

Or was she scared of what could happen with Adam living in her home? What could happen? Could they get intimate? Fall in love? Become serious and long-term and…

Forever?

The word echoed in her mind as she reached the exit and headed east, slowed by what had become a deluge.

Every time she thought about the possibility of her relationship with Adam becoming real and permanent, something happened inside her chest. Something that had occurred with frightening frequency lately…

She had feelings.

Wistful, bittersweet, undeniable, genuine, instinctive, complicated, terrifying…feelings. They made her feel achy and uncomfortable, like she needed to finish something she wasn't even sure she'd started. Like she wanted more of everything. Like she was incomplete.

Could Adam…complete her?

She knew she sounded like some lovesick rom-com watcher, but right now, she didn't care. Yes, she had those feelings, and she was tired of constantly fighting them.

She wanted Adam and she wanted him…always. Not as a fake boyfriend, not as a roommate, and not as a friend with or without benefits.

And while that wasn't happening in the near future, this was. And maybe this spying on a criminal had just been her way of getting closer to him, of stitching the two of them together so he couldn't leave.

Maybe?

She snorted. Of course it was. If she were entirely honest, a big attraction for the Cassano business was that it kept Madeline and Adam close. But living with him felt wrong and lying about it was even worse.

Still confused and frowning from the relentless pressure on her temples, she parked, closing her eyes as the rain pounded on her roof. She flipped open the console and grunted when she realized she'd left her umbrella inside and would have to walk through this downpour or sit in the car.

But she couldn't waste time and sit here; Madeline Wingate could no more destroy her well-structured schedule any more than she could destroy her well-structured life. Which was exactly what living with Adam and lying about why would do.

Gathering up her belongings—including the non-traceable phone from the FBI that served as a reminder that what she was doing was dangerous—she pushed open the door and trudged through the rain to her back door, soaked to the skin by the time she let herself in.

Thank God the salon was closed today, and quiet. Cathie had the day off, and there were no brides Madeline needed to greet.

She slipped into the downstairs bathroom, oversized for brides in big dresses, and tried not to make a puddle as she pulled off her wet silk blouse. Standing in a damp bra, she stepped out of her slacks and reached for one of the white satin robes they offered brides between changes.

She squeezed her hair out in the sink, and finally looked in the mirror, meeting her own dark eyes, which looked troubled.

Her gaze slipped down to the chest where the words "Bride-To-Be" were embroidered in script.

"But you're not a bride-to-be," she said into the mirror, her voice lifeless and sad. "You're a fake girlfriend living with your pretend boyfriend trying to have some kind of thrilling life that you were never intended to have."

The words sounded hollow and made her stomach clench.

She couldn't do this, she decided. She'd gotten in too deep, and she simply couldn't do it.

She couldn't lie to her family. She couldn't let them—or her clients and friends and the whole town—think she was living with a man she wasn't married to. So she was old-fashioned and uptight. She was true to herself.

Now what?

Now, she had to text Adam and tell him to…stay where he was. Then she'd find some options for Bella. She had a good friend in Miami who might take the job, an excellent designer who did custom dresses. Once that was taken care of, she'd give back the phone, shut down the plans, cancel the polygraph, and go back to living her quiet, structured, simple life.

Alone.

But she'd retain her self-respect and, apparently, that was what mattered most to old-fashioned, uptight Madeline Wingate.