Free Secret Agent Boyfriend by Addison Fox Page B

to kidnap any baby, let alone her own brother’s child.
    “I know it does sound crazy. Which is why we have to be absolutely sure.”
    “So how is Derek getting around the property and asking questions?”
    Landry braced herself for the fireworks. “He’s pretending to be my boyfriend.”
    Rachel’s eyes widened, bright green orbs flashing with surprise and—if Landry wasn’t mistaken—ribald good humor. “You can’t be serious. Are you sure he’s not really a movie star and this isn’t some zany fifties sex comedy?”
    The heavy weight of the day—heck, of the past two months—lightened at the humor she saw in her best friend’s eyes. “It does smack of elaborate drama, doesn’t it?”
    “In spades.” Rachel reached for the wine once more, filling them each up and finishing off the bottle. “I guess that means you’re going to need to play this whole relationship up.”
    “Where?”
    “Everywhere.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?” Landry nearly bobbled her glass as Rachel’s words sank in.
    “It means you need to get sassed up, get that gorgeous man on your arm and get yourselves out on the town.”
    “Town isn’t the problem. Whatever we’re dealing with is here at Adair Acres.”
    “Very practical.” Rachel nodded, but Landry didn’t miss the twinkle in her eyes. “Let me ask you another question.”
    “What?”
    “Do fake boyfriends come with fake kisses, too?”
    * * *
    Light breezes blew in from the coast, cooling the valley with that unique blend of sea air and moisture that was so specific to California. Mark punched in the stable code he’d secured from that washed-up track master in LA and stepped into the barn. The stink of animals filled his nose and he held back the urge to gag. He’d be on his way shortly.
    The various snorts and whickers of the horses whistled past his ear as he walked the length of the stalls, and he pushed hard against the faint sense of discomfort at their size. He just kept reminding himself they were locked in stalls. Four-legged beasts.
    Four-legged
thoroughbred
beasts, of course.
    Just like Landry Adair.
    He’d known it the moment he’d seen her. Long, coltish legs on a ruthlessly perfect body. Pristine blond highlights she no doubt kept regular appointments for. Cool, assessing blue eyes that could turn a man on or shrivel his parts, depending on what mood she was in.
    Oh, yes, Landry Adair was a prize.
    He’d kept his ear to the ground and knew Winchester was on the Adair property to work a case as a favor for his old boss. He might be on leave, but the brass would jump for good old Lady Kate, yes siree.
    Mark had actually been grateful when he’d realized there was a project afoot. Derek had been up his damn ass, asking about the status of the Frederickson case since he’d been put on leave. Daily updates. Calls at odd times to share a theory on the signs they must have missed, which was why they’d never found Rena. He’d even sent a series of emails with theories he was working on.
    Derek and his questions. The bastard was full of them.
    Mark, did you file that report?
    Mark, did you do that background check on the runaway’s family?
    Mark, did you know the perp was unarmed?
    A hard shot of fury whipped through him like brushfire, and Mark pushed it back. He’d set the perfect trap, and soon it would all be over.
    Derek would get his.
    And Mark would have his position at the Bureau and his happy ever after with Sarah.
    A win-win, in every way.
    In the meantime, the former veep had conveniently given him a bit of breathing room and Mark was sure he wasn’t going to squander it. Since Derek’s visit to FBI headquarters hit a little too close to home, he figured it was in his best interest to get down here and create a bit of a diversion.
    Mark kept his steps light, his gaze taking in the lush stalls and the signs above each. Feeding timetables. Riding schedules. Vet visits. All the responsibilities that went into managing a barn