The Art of You

There were only a few things in life I truly feared anymore. As I stood there outside the kitchen door, bracing against the frame, mentally preparing myself to go in, I realized facing off with Bella’s brothers was one of them. Not walking before a firing squad to my own execution kind of fear. The much uglier kind. Rejection.

By now, all three Costas surely knew I’d been alone with their sister in my bedroom. And no doubt Constantine would assume I’d broken my word to him.

That five seconds of airport time with Bella had blurred into five minutes of I’d lost my damn mind. I didn’t know what to think, or how to feel about what happened. Not yet, at least. But I did know not even my fear of her brothers rejecting the possibility of us would actually stop me if I made up my mind about what I wanted.

The question was, could I change? Was it even possible for me to start over at forty-two?

I lifted my chin, searching the ceiling as if Bianca might be watching over us and could tell me what to do. Preferably in the form of orders. Those were easier to follow than my heart.

When the door abruptly swung inward, my forward lean nearly sent me colliding with Constantine.

“I was just coming to find you. We were getting worried.” He scrutinized me like a human lie detector, waiting for me to trip up. Nothing got by this man.

Constantine may have been overprotective with his sister, like a dad to her, but the man had also stepped in as one for me. Despite being the same age, he’d always been there for me, recognizing my old man was severely lacking in the fatherly department and picked up the slack when I needed it most.

I’d never forget my first year in New York. My father, a senator-hopeful at the time, had landed me a scholarship at a too-rich-for-my-blood private school. At sixteen, I’d been a classic nerd, more interested in video games, Star Wars, and reading than sports. Without money to buy myself protection, you could say I was getting my ass kicked on a regular basis.

Then one day, Constantine stepped in. He’d seen enough, and he’d laid the ground rules for the whole school with one simple statement: “You have a problem with Hudson, you have a problem with me.”

No one ever bothered me again. He’d taken me under his wing, and while my inner nerd was still very much part of me, I’d changed from that point on. Became stronger and more resilient. Toughened up both mentally and physically. Joined the Navy and became a frogman.

And now I’ve made out with your little sister.

Guilt clutched me by the throat, closing off my oxygen. After everything he’d done for me, always having my six no matter what, I’d let him down. Crossed the line with Bella I promised I’d never go over.

“Hudson?” Constantine slapped a hand over my shoulder, careful to avoid the bad one where the seat belt had dug in during the accident. “You with me or somewhere else?”

Keeping the door open with his shoulder, he waited for me to answer, but I continued to quietly stand there, my mind going numb.

“Why don’t you come in and sit?” he offered, recognizing I was lost to my thoughts.

“I’ll stand.” I pushed away from the doorframe, and he dropped his hand.

“Then do the standing thing in the kitchen?” A smile ghosted his lips.

That smile gave me a bit of life. Only psychopaths smiled when they wanted to commit murder, right? And he was far from that.

He propped the door open with a stopper, and I finally followed him into the kitchen.

Enzo nodded in greeting, keeping quiet as he stood leaning against the counter with his hand in a bag of chips. Alessandro wasted no time chucking a bottle of Advil at me. This time, I remembered to catch it with the hand attached to my non-jacked-up arm.

“Guessing you went against my recommendation and didn’t take anything stronger.” Alessandro smirked.

Nope. I twisted the top and paused, staring down at my hand, remembering where it’d been five minutes ago. Between Bella’s legs. Guilt, that ugly fucking beast, came back to haunt me all over again.

“It’s childproof. Need an assist?” The wise-ass, Enzo, with the jokes, sucked me free from the vortex of remorse.

“I’m good.” I stole a look at him, and shocked myself by actually sporting a smile. “You can continue eating like you’re the pregnant one, not your wife.”

Enzo volleyed something back in Italian, probably a well-deserved jab. The fact they were acting so casually meant Constantine filled them in on the full story of my past, and they were trying to mask their pity with humor. They knew the last thing I’d want was sympathy.

So, that’s why no third-degree about what happened with your sister? Because you feel bad for me?

When Alessandro’s attention flew somewhere in the general direction behind me, I assumed it meant Bella had joined us.

“There you are, Little Miss. I was wondering what you were up to.”

Little Miss No Panties should not have been my first thought upon hearing Alessandro’s greeting, probably not even my second. And yet, there it was. Right along with the memory of Bella’s walls tightening around my fingers while climaxing.

“Malik escorted me from the pool house. Don’t worry. No walking around outside unsupervised.”

Relief coasted over me hearing Callie’s voice. The shit-eating grin on Alessandro’s face, as if he hadn’t seen his wife in a year, should’ve clued me in, even if his nickname for her hadn’t.

Callie gently patted my back before walking by me. I took that to mean she was also aware of the truth about my last operation.

I was board-certified in the ability to bury my past six feet deep when needed, and I had a feeling I’d need to tap into that honed skill to get through this conversation.

“Where’s Izzy?” Callie asked as her husband drew her to his side.

“Yeah, where’s my sister?” Enzo asked me around a mouthful, brushing crumbs off his shirt. I had a feeling Maria didn’t let him binge on junk back at home, so he was taking the chance to misbehave while away.

“How should I know?” I dumped four tablets onto my palm, set aside the bottle, and retrieved a Smartwater from the fridge, opting not to check Constantine’s reaction to Enzo’s question. I wasn’t sure how long his grace would last.

“Ah, speak of the she-devil.” Enzo’s words had me quickly swallowing the evidence of one-too-many. Well, by Bella’s standards anyway. She had no idea how much of this I’d taken to Band-Aid the pain while serving. It was a miracle I had both kidneys and a fully functioning liver.

“Hi.” Bella sounded awfully close behind me as I guzzled down the whole bottle before slowly lowering it to my side.

Facing her, my back now to the others, I breathed a sigh of relief that she was fully covered. Maybe my brain wouldn’t glitch like it had when we’d been alone.

She stared at me, her eyes holding mine as she raced her thumb along the collar of her pink monogrammed top, a matched set with her pajama bottoms. When her attention shot to my hand, I followed the movement to find I’d squeezed the plastic bottle, my knuckles whitening from my grip.

When the hell did I do that? Eyes up, they landed on her mouth. Her lips were a little swollen from our make-out session, and now I was wondering if another part of her was still sensitive. She’d said what happened between us had been art, and yeah, that was one way of putting it.

When she hit me with her sexy, teasing smile, my efforts to send her a warning glare to behave were wasted. Because she was no longer eyeing my face, but had tuned in to the problem south of my waistband—my growing erection.

The little vixen was loving every second of this, too. She really was the only one who had the ability to distract me from everything, whether it was an op—case in point Friday—or a possible inquisition by her brothers.

I hadn’t been self-aware enough last week while prepping for the mission to realize that having her go as my plus-one may throw me off my game. She could’ve been killed in that crash, kidnapped, or shot. All the bad ors imaginable could’ve happened. But I was fully aware now, and that meant no more undercover assignments together.

I knew Alessandro wouldn’t be able to operate with a clear head if Callie were with him. Same was true with Enzo and Maria. I’d thought it’d be different for me, but that was before I fully accepted the truth staring me in the face. I have feelings for you. Nothing like almost losing the woman you care about to wake you up.

“Think you two can finish up your telepathic conversation so we can fill you in?” Alessandro asked, his tone still surprisingly relaxed given our current state of all-the-fucking things.

Bella broke our connection but kept her beautiful smile in place as she walked around me and over to the counter. She went straight for the dark chocolate candy bars. I may have texted one of our security guys a grocery list of must-haves earlier, worried we’d run out of her favorite things and fast. Now I regretted not asking her brothers to bring her favorite teddy bear and hoodie back from the city.

Now she’d have to sleep alone . . .

No, don’t go there. I can’t join her in bed.

“What’d that water ever do to you?” Enzo tossed another flippant comment at me, but he was right.

When I looked down, the bottle was mangled between my palms.

“Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled, turning to the side to see Bella swapping the chocolate for the Advil.

“How many did you take?” Her accusing tone wasn’t lost on me, nor the fact of how much I rather enjoyed how much she cared about me.

“The normal amount.” I decided to take this moment to locate the recycling bin. I left the kitchen before she called me on my BS, hoping to down-boy my cock in my environmentally friendly pursuit.

The laundry room was around the corner from the kitchen, and I took a second longer than necessary to toss the bottle in the appropriate bin as I listened to the indistinct chatter from the Costas in the other room.

Everyone in the kitchen shared that last name, and now I was standing there wondering if Bella’s first name would sound better paired with mine.

Isabella Ashford. Bella Ashford. Mrs. Ashford.

“You okay?” If anything or anyone was going to kill the throbbing pain of unrelieved tension in my sweatpants, it was Constantine getting the drop on me as I stared at the recycling bin.

I cleared my throat and faced him. “I’m as to be expected,” was the best I could give him. At least I was finally able to speak directly to him, a marked improvement from before. “Tell me you all have something, and that’s why your brothers are so relaxed.”

“Truth?” He lifted a dark brow, doing the scrutinizing thing again. But now I understood it was from a place of worry not anger.

I folded my arms. “Ideally.”

“They’re just good actors. Although, they’re probably overdoing it. I ordered them to zip their mouths about Kit’s story and the truth about your op. Told them to behave normally. Thought you’d prefer that after the day you’ve had.”

Figured. “So, no leads? Alessandro said you had news to share once we were together.”

“We do have some stuff, and the conversation Alessandro had on your behalf with your father while you were on a walk earlier was enlightening. I just wish we had more to go on.” He motioned for me to leave the laundry room.

“You assign someone to keep an eye on Adelina? I assume she’s still chasing leads, and I don’t like her doing that alone,” I said as we reentered the kitchen.

While I’d been gone, Bella had parked herself next to Callie at the kitchen table in front of the bay window.

“Yeah, I pulled two guys from here to stay with her,” Constantine confirmed, settling in front of his laptop again. “And Marc is now in Arlington.”

“Why’s he in Virginia?” I asked. “I thought Marc was keeping tabs on Agent Clarke? Or was that Kit?” I was losing track.

Enzo’s mask fell when our eyes met, and his apologetic, sad look of regret hit me hard. I was having enough trouble concentrating, and I definitely wouldn’t have survived this conversation had Constantine not done me a solid and told them to remain quiet about what they’d learned.

“Marc’s watching Clarke, which is why he’s in Arlington,” Constantine affirmed.

“You told Marc he didn’t F up on Friday, that one of the valets probably eavesdropped on me, right?” I wasn’t sure why Alessandro was smiling until I rewound my words and replayed them. “Fuck up. I meant, fuck up.”

“I was getting worried that knock to your head may have crisscrossed your wires. Made you start watching your mouth like Enzo’s been trying to do,” Alessandro joked.

“I’m in agreement with Maria. They have a daughter and twins on the way,” Callie said, defending her sister-in-law. “One day, I’ll be asking the same of you.”

“Good fucking luck with my brother on that one.” Enzo shook his head, then shrugged. “What? My family isn’t here.”

“Anyway, we were talking about the case, weren’t we?” Constantine, always the dad of us all. “And yeah, Marc’s aware but still feels bad. Teamguy mentality, nothing to do about that. Not going to change him as much as I can’t change you.”

True.

Alessandro removed my phone from his pocket and walked over and set it on the counter next to me. “Your father’s going scorched-earth on his whole staff. I’m sure he’ll be calling again. I had to silence the ringer before I threw your phone in the Atlantic. He’s not happy.”

I wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone about what I’d read online today, least of all my father. I’d be getting the governor on the other end of that line, not a man worried about his son. “Is he just pissed about the news cycle or about the homicide case?” The pendulum could swing both ways as to why my father was blowing up at his staff.

“It turns out Kit was blackmailing your father’s favorite assistant.” Alessandro joined his wife at the table. “She forced him to add her name to the guest list at the last minute on Friday. She didn’t tell him why she wanted to go, just demanded he get her an invite. Explains why we didn’t know she’d be there. His main assistant has been trading Kit favors for her silence for about a year now.”

“What kind of blackmail? What other favors?” I positioned my back to the counter, using it for support.

“Kit discovered he was cheating, and she used that to extort him in exchange for not exposing him online,” Enzo shared, rolling his eyes in disgust.

“Your dad is now questioning all of his staff, worried he has more ‘problems’ in his inner circle.” Alessandro’s use of air quotes was a sign his wife was rubbing off on him.

“Your father was talking as if the story Kit wrote about the government cover-up was a lie. Sounded pretty convincing, too.” Enzo had to step right into that topic despite Constantine’s orders. “Does he not know the truth? And if not, then no reason to believe someone on his staff knows. Puts doubt on them being Kit’s source, right?”

“Your dad was still a senator back then,” Alessandro picked up with more questions before I could answer Enzo, “but I’m guessing he wasn’t one of the ones pressing JSOC and the Agency to rush that op in order to offer the public a victory, right?”

“No, he wasn’t in on that decision to send my team.” He wouldn’t have risked emailing me about my mom that day. “I didn’t tell him or my mom the truth about what happened. It sounds like he never looked into it or found out, but I’m sure he’ll be calling his friends at the Pentagon and CIA to see if they’ll help him kill the story regardless of whether he believes it’s true.”

“Aside from that conversation with your father,” Constantine continued, redirecting us, “we have a few other things to share.” He looked back down at his laptop. “Adelina let us know the Feds picked up that one valet for questioning.”

“The one who parked the Porsche?” I asked, standing taller at the news.

Constantine nodded. “Yeah. Adelina had no choice but to offer the Bureau that lead while we were in the city. They must’ve found something from his texts or emails that suggested he was tied to the kidnappers.”

That’s something.

“As for the photo dropped off at your place, Adelina’s tech guy”—Constantine turned to the side on his stool to look at Bella—“cleaned up the image and got a hit while we were in the city. His name is Deacon Jones. He’s bounced around between shelters for the last two years. Lost his job and home. We tracked him down, but he was on something.”

My stomach tightened, preparing myself for the punch I felt coming. Anything but that drug, dammit.

“Deacon used the hundred bucks someone gave him to drop off the envelope to buy fentanyl.” Constantine delivered the bad news quickly. “His description of who paid him off made it sound like⁠—”

“The Tooth Fairy made him do it,” Enzo remarked dryly. “So, he wasn’t helpful.” He flicked away the bag of chips on the counter. “We also showed Deacon photos of Kit and Agent Clarke to see if he recognized them. Also, the photo of the guy who’d been on a date with the woman across the street Friday night. Struck out on all three.”

“But he wasn’t all that coherent, so we should try again,” Constantine suggested, eyes on me. “Maybe we need to force him to get clean so we can talk to him.”

“Like help him pay for rehab, or force him to get clean in other ways?” Callie spoke up, putting her teacher voice into play.

“The second way would be much more expedient, but . . .” Alessandro let his wife fill in the blanks, and I’d take her shake of the head as a firm no to kidnapping the man. “Fine, we’ll help him sober up in a more ethical way.” His shrug was aimed at Enzo. “Happy wife, man, happy life. Don’t act like you’re not guilty of the same.”

I stopped paying attention to them when I realized Bella was staring at me with her sad, puppy-dog eyes. Who was she thinking about now? Pablo? Matt?

I really hated that drug and the people who trafficked it. But it also reminded me of something important. “No way Alfie would ask him to deliver the photo.” A touch of welcoming relief hit me at that. “He’d recognize the signs of addiction and assume how the money would be used. He might be Kit’s source, and maybe was even at that party, but no chance in hell would he risk someone ODing on his dime.” He may have changed over the years, but not that much.

No one questioned me. No one offered a plausible explanation as to why Alfie might be responsible. They trusted me the way I trusted my instincts.

Bella nodded, offering her support in my confidence about Alfie. “Did, um, Adelina mention . . .”

“Pablo-Not-Picasso?” Enzo swiveled on his stool to face her, tossing out the nickname he’d used for her ex last year. “She mentioned he’s in rehab. Coincidentally, because of the same drug we were just discussing.” His shoulders fell. “Two visitors in the last month. His mom and sister. She doesn’t think he, or any of your exes, are tied to anything, but she’s not ready to cross Pablo off her list yet.”

“And that has me worried.” Constantine twisted around to peer at her. “Is there something else I need to know about the artist? Another reason why Adelina wants to keep him on the potential suspect list?”

Bella’s gaze abruptly flew to me, a plea to help rescue her from this without her brothers feeling the need to murder her ex.

Was I really going to help save Pablo? Christ.

Realizing I now had eyes on me, I did my best to think of a distraction, and then a legitimate question wound up saving me. “Wait, did you say you have a photo of the woman’s date from across the street?” They said they showed it to Deacon, and I’d missed that detail, too focused on the mention of the drug.

“What’d you find out about the woman’s date?” Bella abruptly ran with that distraction. “Was he really just admiring the Porsche?”

Constantine turned around, narrowing his eyes my way, letting me know he wouldn’t be letting the subject of Pablo go forever. “Yeah, we spoke to her, as well as her date. His background checks out. They met through a dating app. He’s an accountant for one of the major firms. Nothing in his story that’s a red flag.” He stood, resting the laptop on his palm before placing it on the table in front of Bella. “You recognize him?”

I joined them so I could check him out and ensure he hadn’t faked his background, that he wasn’t one of the other guys from my old Team suddenly deciding to take revenge on me fifteen years later. It felt absurd to consider, but I couldn’t dismiss any possibility.

“I don’t think I’ve seen him before,” Bella said as I looked over her shoulder. “You?” She turned, catching my eyes, but I’d been leaning in to view the screen from just over her shoulder, so now our faces were too damn close.

Her lashes fluttered as she stared at me, and I had to swallow and order myself to stand upright so her mouth wasn’t so close to my own.

“No.” I cleared my throat, not as subtly as I’d have liked. “He’s not familiar.” I glanced at Constantine at my side. I had no clue what he was thinking, and honestly, I didn’t want to know.

Regrouping, I studied the screen again, but from a distance. The man was an average-looking thirty-two-year-old white guy with brown hair and eyes.

“No serial killer or stalker vibes from what I can tell,” Bella said softly. “But pictures can be deceiving.”

“Well, he stays on our suspect list the same as Pablo. Just in case,” Constantine said as if only now making up his mind on that.

“Our suspect list feels as long as it does short,” Bella murmured, resting her elbows on the table before lowering her forehead on top of her hands.

I had to resist the urge to stroke her back and offer her comfort. It was already taking all my energy to resist brushing my mouth over her bruises, as if somehow I could heal her with my lips.

“Anything else?” I turned toward Constantine as he returned to the breakfast bar.

“Unfortunately not,” he answered.

“This accountant wasn’t on the party list, right?” I asked.

Alessandro shook his head no. “Not unless he used an alias. I’ve been scouring social media for pictures and videos from the party to see if Alfie, or anyone who wasn’t supposed to be at the party, was there. Haven’t found anything that’s stood out yet.”

“People were too busy reposting and resharing the video of us dancing, as if that was newsworthy,” Bella said after an exasperated sigh, lifting her head. She swiped away the wild strands of her hair clinging to her face. “I should call Mom back at some point since she clearly got wind of the stories and is worried.”

“You should phone your dad, too.” Alessandro lifted his chin at me like a directive.

“Right. That’ll be the highlight of my night.” I reached around to my lower back, the achy pain there not yet suppressed by the medicine. “I also think I should speak with Kit, preferably in person.”

“That’s exactly what she’s expecting, and why I think you should hold off until we know more,” Constantine responded, shutting his laptop.

“I can get her to tell me her source. To see if she’s connected to any of this mess.” And that was precisely what this was—a disastrous and confusing mess. I may have been exhausted and in pain, but it felt like we were chasing our tails. And that chase was intentional and purposeful.

“Someone may be watching her, waiting for you to confront her,” Alessandro said, seemingly in agreement with Constantine. “That headline may have been a carrot being dangled for you. Maybe for your old man, too.”

Shit. They were both right. But still. “We’re missing something. Like the main point,” I shared my thoughts aloud, bringing my hand around from my back to my stomach to emphasize this was a gut feeling. “I think everything is connected somehow.”

“What could it be?” Bella stood and faced me while Callie and the others quietly joined her on their feet, too.

All eyes were on me as if I could pluck the answers from the universe and offer them up on a silver platter. I wasn’t even close to being able to come through for them right now.

“Why don’t you call your father, then get some rest? We can regroup tomorrow. See if our guys following Kit and Clarke turn up anything by the morning. Adelina’s still trying to get the Feds to share details of the case, too.” Enzo was offering up a reprieve, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready to take it.

I covered my mouth, eyes on the ceiling as I tried to rally and think through this as if our lives depended on it. Because they very well might. What was I missing?

“If the kidnapping is connected to the photo, to Kit’s headline story, even to Alfie being at the party—and my gut says I didn’t imagine him—then I have to believe Ambassador Aldana’s daughter wasn’t taken for money. And whatever reason she was abducted might somehow be what ties everything together.” That was the best I could manage right now given my state of mind, but it was a start.

“Your dad and the ambassador seemed pretty close in the library,” Bella noted. And in the chaos of the weekend, I’d nearly forgotten that. “Maybe they’re more than friends.”

“Those men could’ve abducted any number of rich people for money, but they chose a diplomat. And what do ambassadors generally do? They make deals and have access to a lot of high-level shit, right?” Callie pointed out, and Alessandro nodded at her.

“The ambassador said diplomacy doesn’t always work. Maybe Hudson’s right.” Bella continued running with the theory I’d let loose. “Maybe those men wanted something from her that she couldn’t risk giving up. Not even for her daughter’s life.”

“And it was a classified something she couldn’t share, so she lied about what the kidnappers wanted?” Callie proposed.

I’d happily let Bella and Callie go back and forth on this. They were doing a damn good job.

“It could also explain why the ambassador is holed up at the embassy and not talking,” Bella said with a nod, her eyes lighting up at the possibility we were finally onto something.

And if that something meant Bella didn’t have a stalker, I was on-fucking-board.

“Maybe the ambo can’t tell us the real story about why Lola was taken, but she might have told my father. A bedside chat. He could’ve even been there when the call came about Lola’s abduction,” I finally interjected my two cents.

“The better question is, why isn’t he telling us?” Bella looked at me, and I knew the answer to that.

My father was either trying to save his own ass, or someone else’s he cared about. In this case, that someone wasn’t me, it was the ambassador.

I turned toward where I set my phone on the counter and wasted no time, not caring I had an audience for the call. I had no secrets to hide, but it sure as hell seemed like my old man did.

He answered on the second ring and I placed him on speakerphone. “I’ve been trying to reach you,” he rushed out.

“The reporter, I know,” I gritted out.

“Not about that.” A low hiss fell over the line. “Well, not only about that. But we do need to talk.”

“Yeah, no shit.” I had no patience for whatever BS he was about to try and run me over with in his effort to turn the conversation the way he wanted it to go.

I faced everyone in the kitchen, finding them staring at my phone.

“We have to talk in person. Send me your address. I can’t meet tonight, but I’ll come to you first thing in the morning. Just sit tight. Don’t do anything stupid before then. Do not contact that reporter, you hear me?”

Nothing like taking orders from him at forty-two. Jesus.

At the feel of Bella’s eyes on me, I glanced her way. She was worrying her lip between her teeth while studying me, probably curious if I’d blow up or keep a lid on my emotions. I was still on the fence.

Time was ticking, and my father’s patience would soon expire if I didn’t give him a “roger that.”

“I have something I need to talk to you about, too,” I finally managed out instead of offering my obedience like he wanted. “And it can’t wait.”

“It’s going to damn well have to. This discussion can’t happen over the phone. Things have changed. You’re going to have to trust me and wait until tomorrow for our talk.”

Of course he’d steamroll over me and ignore what I needed. Nothing would ever change when it came to him. “Just give me something. What’s changed?”

I overheard chatter in the background, then a door slam shut. “The FBI is no longer in charge of the investigation. That’s what’s changed. That’s all I can tell you. I’ll see you in the morning. Seven sharp.” He hung up before I could get another word out.

“What the hell does he mean the FBI aren’t in charge? They wouldn’t turn the case over to the local PD. Not when the bodies were diplomatic security,” Alessandro pointed out, and I released a deep breath that did nothing to help the pain settling in my chest.

“No, not them.” I met Constantine’s eyes, knowing his thoughts more than likely just landed on the same agency mine did. “And if it’s who I think it is, then we were right about the ambassador’s daughter. It was never about money.”

“The Company? You think they took control from the Feds on the FBI’s own stomping ground?” Enzo asked. But was he really surprised they wouldn’t play by the rules?

The CIA wasn’t supposed to operate on American soil. But Enzo and his brothers weren’t exactly supposed to run off-the-books ops for the government—mostly for the CIA—in exchange for not serving prison time, either.

“Of course they would,” Enzo answered his own question when no one spoke up. “Looks like I’m not going home tomorrow after all.”