Undercover with the Hottie (Investigating the Hottie) (4 page)

“On our way,” I said with a sigh. “We want to see the rest of the upstairs first.”

“There's just my room and a full bath.”

“Your room? What about Nic?” Will's question prompted a scowl from Christie.

“He doesn't have a room. The room up here is mine. The bedroom downstairs is Grandma's.”

“I guess he's stuck sleeping on the couch,” I said with a shrug. “I don't think they're fully committed to their covers.”

Christie pretended not to hear me as she left the room.

He grinned. “Like fully committed to their roles in a play? Yeah. I think they'd better be fully committed because we have a job to do.”

He held out his hand and pulled me up to a standing position. “Did you notice the Christmas tree downstairs?”

“Yeah,” I noticed it. I just didn't think about it. “That's weird, right? To move into a place right after Christmas and put up a tree?”

“I guess Grandma wanted one here.”

When we got downstairs, we realized that the Christmas tree wasn't the only decorating that Grandma had done. She'd hung some decorations from the ceiling over the kitchen island. Gold and silver ornaments floated above the counter on long strands of nearly invisible wire. “Did you do that, Grandma?”

She nodded. “I got bored. I had the place ready to go yesterday. Today I've been putting on some finishing touches.”

“It looks great,” I said.

Nic walked over to the kitchen area, holding scissors in one hand and something green in the other. “Well you can forget the mistletoe, Grandma. I cut it down.”

“Nic!” Grandma huffed her displeasure. “I worked hard to find mistletoe here in the city.”

He nodded at us. “These two don't need any more temptation.”

“Hey,” I said. “That's not very nice.”

“Are you worried about the kids, Nic? Or are you worried about yourself?”  Grandma looked from Nic to Christie. “It's a harmless tradition.”

“These two don't need mistletoe to swap saliva,” Christie said.

Eww. Did she have to make it sound so crude?

Nic opened the cabinet under the sink and tossed in the two bunches of mistletoe. “Regardless, these are out of here.”

“Touch my ornaments and you die,” Grandma said, reaching for the scissors.

Nic turned them around and handed them to her, handle first.

“Big bad Nic is afraid of a little old mistletoe.”  I giggled. “Who would have thought?”

“Either that or he's afraid of kissing,” Will added.

I was about to break out in the old k-i-ss-i-n-g song when Nic growled, “Don't you two need to get your covers down?”

Since we did need to know them, it was hard to argue.

Will and I buckled down with our cover reading. I had trouble concentrating at first, but I managed. First, I didn't want to look stupid compared to Will, and second, I wasn't willing to fail at this mission. After an hour of reading at my desk, I moved over to the bed and stretched out to start memorizing.

“Hey,” Nic said from my doorway. “I need to go out and take care of some things. I probably won't be back until after midnight.”

“Okay. Good luck. Are you driving somebody tonight?”

“Not until tomorrow. I'll be meeting with one of the regular drivers for some coaching. I'll probably see you in the morning.”

“Okay. Bye Nic.”

“Work hard, Amanda. The better you are with the story, the less danger you'll be in.”

“Got it,” I said and saluted him.

I had managed to focus again and had torn through about twenty pages, memorizing and then closing my eyes to test myself. That's when the music started. Although music may be too complimentary for the noise that started shaking the walls and vibrating the floor. The neighbors were making their presence known.

The heavy bass reverberated right through my bed but the distorted melody was impossible to make out. I scooted out of bed and searched the drawers of the desk for some noise canceling headphones. I thought GASI would have prepared for anything and everything. Unfortunately, they were only partially prepared. The ear buds I found in the bottom desk drawer wouldn't help drown out that bass.

“Hey,” Will said from the same spot Nic had chosen earlier. He nodded to the wall behind me. “Kind of loud, huh?”

“Yeah. They must be having a party or something.”

He nodded and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. My heart thumped at the sight. The whole slightly sheepish, casual thing worked so well for him.

“Actually, I think they're playing Aliens NYC or Seal Team 139.”  He cocked his head for a moment. “Yep. It's Seal Team 139. I recognize the soundtrack.”

“You do?” I strained to hear anything recognizable.

“Yeah, it's Sail.”

“Sail? By AwolNation?” I loved that song. “How can you possibly tell?”

“Hear the extra static sound? Plus, it's the second song on Seal Team 139 on level 14.”

“So you can identify songs through the walls and you've memorized the order they play on the game?” Seriously. He must have finished learning our full cover story an hour ago.

“Don't be impressed. Level 14 takes a while to beat. I heard this over and over for what seemed like days.”  

“Good. I was starting to feel inadequate.”  Geez. Why had I told him that?

Will gave me a crooked smile. “At least you've done this before. This is my first mission. I'm in there trying to learn all this stuff, and I'm starting to wonder if it will turn out like art class.”

“There's no way that is going to happen. We'd have to screw up epically for it to be that bad.”

“True,” he said. He walked into my room and sat, facing me and straddling the desk chair. “Art is our greatest weakness.”

We'd bonded for the first time in art class when I was spying on him. He wasn't exactly an artist. Neither was I. “What did you get in that class?”

“A-minus.”

“Wow.” I tried to hide my surprise. “You, um, must have been most improved.”

He grinned. “I did the computer project and got extra credit volunteering to help elementary school kids with their art projects at the Boys and Girls club.”

Now that made a lot more sense. “I'm glad you found a way to save your GPA.”  I shook my head. “Who knows what I would have ended up with if I'd stayed in the class.”

“You would have gotten an A.”

“Awww. Aren't you sweet.”

“She allowed credit for up to ten afternoons at the Boys and Girls club.”

“How many do you think I'd need for an A?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Ten,” he said, his eyes glued to mine. “Definitely all ten.”

Narrowing my eyes, I asked, “And how many days did you volunteer to get your A-minus?”

The stare down continued for a few seconds before he said, “Four.”

“You are so dead,” I screeched. I grabbed for the closest pillow and threw it at him. “How dare you say I'm twice as bad as you!”

Will had caught the pillow and used it as a shield while I battered him with another. Will was laughing harder than me, but he managed to stop long enough to say, “It was a compliment, remember?”  

“What?” I walloped him on the top of the head with my feather-filled weapon.

Breathless now from laughing, he argued, “You won the contest. You were the best of the worst. The very worst. The worstest?”  He decompensated into another fit of laughter.

I stopped hitting him and he cringed while I considered. I had won the contest to be worst. And his grammatical corruption made me smile. “Okay. I won the contest last Fall, but I'm not twice as bad as you are. That's more of an insult than a compliment.”

He peeked over the top of his pillow shield. “How about fifty percent worse than me?”

I cocked a brow. “Not twice as bad but half of twice as bad?”

Will's eyes crossed for a split second. “How about we go with, you're just a tiny bit worse than me? Just enough to beat me at being the worst?”

“Better. Much better.”  I lowered my pillow.

“Are you finished now?” He stood up and now was towering over me by several inches.

Unnerved, I squeaked out an answer that sounded more like a question. “Yes?”

“Then it's time I seek recompense for being falsely vilified.”

Huh? “What do you mean?”

He raised his pillow. “It means, I'm going to give you a head start.”

I blinked.

He leaned closer and whispered, “Go.”

Chapter Four

I ran, clutching my pillow and dashing down the stairs and around the living room. “I'm sorry,” I shouted over my shoulder as I ran.

“Hey guys,” Christie called from above us. “What's with the ruckus?”

“She has to pay,” Will called in response.

“Christie, help!” I shouted. “Save me!” I screeched as I picked up speed, laughing like an idiot as I ran.

“Here I thought the neighbors were loud,” Grandma said from the kitchen counter.

I turned at the promise of safety, dashing towards Grandma. “Grandma, help!”

“Don't help her! This is between us,” Will yelled.

Grandma's eyes widened as I rushed toward her. “Amanda! Will! No!”

I had a flash of insight, picturing myself smacking into the older woman and then smashing her against the kitchen cabinets.
Must not kill the grandmother.
I jumped over an ottoman and changed course again, this time heading for the stairs. I had to reach Christie before he caught me.

Pain seared through my side, a stitch from laughing and running at the same time. What a stupid thing to do. I grabbed my side and hit the first step, then the second. Safety, in the form of my aunt, stood about fifteen steps ahead of me.

I raised my eyes to hers just as she gasped and held out her arms.

Will had caught up to me. I flinched, still climbing and expecting the impact of the pillow against my back. Instead, Will's hard body hit my back, and he grabbed me around the waist, lifting me as I started to fall into the steps above. The pillow slipped from my grasp as I struggled to get a grip on something solid.

Christie and Grandma were both shouting for us to be careful as I realized I wasn't going to smash my chin on the metal staircase after all. I was flying upward in Will's arms, losing my equilibrium as I became weightless.

Finally, I was pulled back into Will's chest and everything stopped.

“You nearly killed me!” I accused. I was leaning back at an angle, and if he let me go, I'd fall.

“Put your hands on the railing, and I'll let go so you can kick my butt,” he said into my ear. “I don't want to drop you.”

I grabbed the railing, struggling from my angle, and with a little help from Will, got myself vertical on the stairs. Christie rushed towards me, and I turned to Will. “Why did you do that?!”

“Which part? Almost kill you, or save you?”

“Good grief, you two,” Christie said, hands on her hips. “All we need for Amanda to fit in here is a bashed in, bloody face.”

Um. “Thanks for your concern, Christie.”  

“Well, it's true. We can't probe for secrets if everyone is trying to figure out what happened to you.”

“I couldn't stop,” Will said. “I had just sped up, and she slowed down suddenly, and I couldn't do anything to stop from crashing into her.”

“At least we know your bulk will help us in the field.”  Christie quirked a brow. “Are you okay, Amanda?”

“Yes.” I think. Probably. “Will caught me.”

“Come sit down and catch your breath,” Grandma said, motioning to the sofa.

Great idea. I kept my hand on the railing as I followed Will off the stairs. Then I gripped his shoulder until I made it to the couch.

I wasn't freaked out by the near concussion. It was Will. Being that close to Will. He'd actually caught me and lifted me. In his arms. I inwardly sighed, desperate to hide my girly feelings from the others.

“Amanda,” Will asked, sounding worried. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine.”  

Grandma didn't look convinced. Christie watched me with too much interest. I tried to sell it with a smile, but Will winced, and I knew my smile had hit “pained” instead of “reassuring.”

Searching for a distraction, I sputtered, “What's for dinner?”

“Good question,” Grandma said. “I'm starving.”

Will, Grandma, and I turned to look at Christie. She bit her lip and avoided eye contact.

Yeah, she hadn't given it the first thought.

“Chinese takeout,” she finally said. “I'll call it in.”

“Yes,” Will said with a fist pump. “I was afraid Grandma would cook.”

Grandma raised her hand and smacked him on the back of the head.

“Ouch.”  He rubbed his head. “You promised to stop that.”

“I pulled my punch,” she said. “You know that's how I honor Gibbs and DiNozzo.”

“You promised Mom.”

Grandma rolled her eyes.

I giggled.

Christie whipped her cell phone out of her pocket. “I should have let Nic be the family man and taken the driver job for myself.”  She walked back to the fridge and pulled a menu from the top.

“We should behave,” Grandma cautioned. “We can't risk accidentally killing our suspects. She can't go undercover as the driver.”

“No way. Riding with her is like riding with Vin Diesel after four pots of coffee,” I answered. “And he's blindfolded.”

Grandma nodded. “And if he drops below one hundred miles per hour, the car is going to explode.”

“Exactly,” I agreed, beaming at Grandma.

“Should we demand some input on the Chinese food, or is it safe to let her order?” Will asked.

Uh oh.

Christie lowered the phone and hit a button as we turned her way. Too late.

“It's probably okay,” I said.

“Twenty minutes and dinner is served,” my aunt said walking over to the sofas.

“We realized we should have asked for input on the order. Did you order something that will set my tongue on fire?”  Grandma didn't shy away from a challenge. Except for riding with Christie.

“Did you order my usual?”  The mission was going to be all the excitement I needed. Culinary torment was not on my to-do list for tonight.

Christie reached out to tousle my hair. “I got your Beef and Broccoli and Will's General Tso's.”  She turned to Grandma. “As for you and me, I ordered three different dishes that I've never heard of. We should be in for a treat!”