An Uncommon Honeymoon

Book 3: Librarian/Spy Escapade

by Susan Mann

Genres: Military Romance

Synopsis

Shelve under: Spies, Russian, Librarian Spies, Conspiracies.
 
Librarian and rookie CIA covert operative Quinn Ellington revises her honeymoon plans when she and her brand-new spy husband uncover a drug trafficking ring stretching from the Caribbean to St. Petersburg. Turquoise waters, white sand, and intra-agency relations provide a lush backdrop for raiding enemy strongholds, tailing movie stars, and dodging more than a few bullets. Meanwhile, Quinn’s unique skills prove indispensable in luring a dangerous villain into the proper trap.

Release date: December 26, 2017

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 352

Sample

The bottom of Quinn Ellington’s unbuttoned white lab coat fluttered behind her like a superhero’s cape as she strode along the corridor of a Frankfurt pharmaceutical research facility. James Anderson kept pace beside her, his matching lab coat equally billowy. The aluminum briefcase hanging from his hand sporadically brushed against her thigh.

Dr. Dieter Ziegler and his assistant had joined a meeting in the conference room at the end of the hallway a moment before. That meant she and James had thirty minutes to slip into Ziegler’s office, steal the vials from his safe, and sneak out without being noticed.

No problem.

Quinn dipped her chin and adjusted her black-rimmed glasses, shielding her face from the woman passing them from the other direction.

“You want to do something next weekend?” James asked when the woman was out of earshot.

She smiled at his attempt to keep her loose during her first mission as a full-fledged CIA undercover operative. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve got a wedding to go to.”

“Blow it off.”

“I can’t. I kinda have to be there.”

“Why?”

“I’m the bride.” Their pace slowed as they neared Dr. Ziegler’s office.

“You know, now that you mention it, I have a wedding to be at, too.”

“Yeah? That’s weird. I wonder if it’s the same one. Is it in California?”

James held the ID badge he’d liberated from an unsuspecting senior scientist in front of the electronic lock. When the red light turned green, he pushed in the door and held it open. Quinn swept past him into a small front office. “As a matter of fact, it is. A beautiful church in Redondo Beach.”

A brass nameplate placed at the front edge of the desk informed them Sabine Müller was the name of Ziegler’s assistant.

“Mine, too. Maybe I’ll see you there,” Quinn said. She tried the knob on the door leading to the inner office. Locked. She slipped the lock pick set from the pocket of her lab coat and zipped open the case.

She took two implements and slid the wiry ends into the lock.

“How about you meet me at the front of the sanctuary, say four-fifteen or so?” James asked.

“I can do that. I hope you don’t mind, but my dad will be with me. Fair warning. He’ll be armed.”

“No need for a shotgun. I’ll be there of my own free will.”

One of the tumblers in the lock gave way. “Nah, it’ll just be his sidearm under his tux jacket. You know how Marines are.”

“I do,” he said. “I’ll be armed, too, by the way.”

“Me, too. I picked up a pretty thigh holster for the occasion. It’s white and lacey. You’ll like it.”

She smiled at his rumbling growl.

“All right, you two. That’s enough,” she heard the long-suffering voice of Darius Sampson say through the communication device in her ear. “You keep it up and I’m gonna hurl all over this van full of expensive surveillance equipment. I’ll tell Meyers to send you the bill.”

“Okay, okay. We don’t want any hurling,” James said.

“What are you two doing anyway, going on an op so close to your wedding? Sounds crazy to me.”

“The wedding has totally consumed my life the last two months. I needed a break before someone tossed me in a rubber room and threw away the key,” Quinn said.

“Hard to argue with that, I guess,” Darius replied.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help you more with all the planning,” James said. “Living in Moscow made it difficult.”

“It’s okay. My mom was a huge help. I’m glad your stint there is over.”

The lock gave way and she cracked open the door.

“We’re in,” Quinn said as she and James stepped into Ziegler’s office. The door clicked closed behind them.

“Roger that,” Darius said. “Ziegler and his assistant are still in the meeting.”

Quinn took a quick survey of the room. The large office was well appointed with its massive wooden desk, leather couch, and bar with bottles of various types of liquor on the shelves behind it. One of the perks to being the company’s chief research officer, she supposed. Ziegler may have occupied a corner office, but its location didn’t mean it was meticulously kept. The desk was cluttered with stacks of scientific journals, papers, and files. Not one more book could have been wedged into the overstuffed bookcases. As much as the librarian in Quinn was drawn to examine and straighten those books, she resisted. She wasn’t there for that.

James handed her the metal briefcase and headed for the desk. He inserted a flash drive into Ziegler’s computer and began to type.

Quinn went straight for the painting of a tranquil lake setting located on the wall above the sofa. She set the briefcase on one cushion and stepped up onto the other. Reaching out, she slid the painting mounted on rails to one side to reveal a wall safe.

From her lab coat pocket, she removed her smartphone and a thin cable. She plugged one end of the cable into her phone and the other into a port next to the keypad on the face of the safe. With a tap on the screen, she launched the CIA-developed app that would provide her with the digital key.

While the app ran, she took a small, flat plastic box with Ziegler’s fingerprint on a thin piece of latex from her other pocket and opened it. She placed the latex on the pad of her thumb and breathed on it several times to moisten it.

Her phone chimed and displayed the six-digit passcode. She pressed her thumb to the biometric scanner and punched the code into the keypad.

The safe started to beep.

Crap.

Was it supposed to do that?

“Babe? I might have set off—” The beeps ceased and she heard a soft click. She released a relieved breath. “Never mind. We’re good,” she said and swung the safe’s door open.

Inside, a half dozen glass vials of emerald-colored liquid were precisely arranged on a shelf. “Why is the evil stuff always green?”

“That mandate is clearly stated in section thirty-seven of the League of Evil Scientists Handbook,” James replied, his eyes never leaving the computer screen. “I’m sure Ziegler checked to make sure the color of his psychotropic agent was regulation.”

Quinn grinned as she lifted one of the vials from the safe and carefully secured it in the slot cut in the gray foam lining of the briefcase. “I bet he did. He wouldn’t want to get kicked out of the League of Evil Scientists for such a heinous violation.” She repeated her actions and secured another vial. “Almost done?”

“Yeah. I uploaded the Trojan horse onto his system already. I only need a couple more minutes to finish copying the restricted data files.”

“Uh, guys?” Darius said. The tightness in his voice snapped Quinn to attention. “You may not have a couple of minutes. Ziegler and his assistant just left the conference room.”

“What?” she said with a frown. “He’s not supposed to be out of there for at least another twenty minutes.”

“I dunno. No one else has left. Even the CEO is still there. Hang on. Maybe they’re not . . .” After pause, Darius said, “They’re on their way to you.”

“Copy.” Under his breath, James grumbled, “Dammit.”

Adrenaline flooded Quinn’s system. Moving quickly, she snatched the last two vials in each hand and jammed them into the foam. She slapped the briefcase shut and snapped the fasteners.

Quinn closed the safe, removed the phone cable, and slid the painting back in place. She leaped from the couch, grabbed the briefcase’s handle, and looked at James. His blue eyes were slightly wild as he urged on the computer. “Come on, come on, come on.”

“Forget it. We gotta go.”

“Done!” James yanked out the flash drive and sprang to his feet.

The urgency in Darius’s voice sliced through her. “Too late. They’ll see you if you come out now.”

“Maybe we can chance it and tell them we were waiting for him but decided to leave,” Quinn said.

James shook his head. “This is a restricted floor. We’re not even supposed to be here.”

“Crap. You’re right.” She looked at the bar and then at James. “Do we hide or shoot our way out?”

“Make a decision, guys,” Darius said. “They’re almost there.”

James grabbed Quinn’s hand and pulled her behind the bar. “We hide. Let’s hope they came back to get something for the meeting and will leave again right away. If not, we tranq them and take off.” Crouched behind the bar, they balanced on the balls of their feet, removed their tranquilizer pistols from their ankle holsters, and held them at the ready.

“They’re about to open the outer door,” Darius said.

Quinn strained to hear clues as to exactly where Ziegler and Sabine were. She heard their muffled voices through the wall between the two offices. If James was right and they had come back for something related to the meeting, was it was inside Ziegler’s office? If so, he would go to unlock the door any second. She hoped she hadn’t left any evidence that the lock had been picked. Otherwise, trouble would come their way fast. She swallowed and tightened her grip on her pistol.

She flinched when she heard what sounded like a body slamming against the door. The knob rattled, but the door remained closed. There was another loud thump.

James glanced at Quinn in confusion. She shrugged in response.

The doorknob turned and the door flew open. Ziegler murmured in a low tone, prompting a giggle from Sabine. Heavy breathing punctuated throaty moans.

Oh.

God.

No.

No, no, no.

Quinn’s blue eyes rounded and she looked at James. He wrinkled his nose in reply.

She heard two clunks on the floor, which she assumed was Sabine kicking off her shoes. A white lab coat arced through the air and draped over the bar.

Ziegler spoke in an urgent growl.

Sabine’s response was breathy and pleading.

For a fleeting moment, Quinn considered turning the tranquilizer gun on herself.

Air gusted from the couch cushions with a fwoomp, indicating the amorous couple had crashed onto the leather couch.

It sounded like a wrestling match had broken out.

Quinn grimaced when Sabine expelled a prolonged, guttural groan.

At the unmistakable clap of a hand slapping flesh, Ziegler blurted, “Ach! Ja!” With each smack, the level of his lusty enthusiasm rose.

Quinn bit her lip and struggled to keep the giggles at bay.

James’s face relaxed into a grin.

The movements on the couch turned rhythmic.

A boisterous duet of ardent and sustained ecstasy filled the room.

Quinn grimaced and squeezed her eyes shut.

When the exclamations subsided and all she heard was ragged breathing, Quinn dared to open her eyes and peek at James.

He winked and shot her a crooked smile, which quickly faded. The eyes boring into hers turned intense and probing.

She held his gaze and gave him a sharp nod. Time to focus.

Quinn concentrated on the sounds coming from Ziegler and Sabine. Neither spoke as they rose from the sofa. Clothes were straightened and the lab coat disappeared from atop the bar.

One sound Quinn hoped not to hear was Ziegler settling in behind his desk. If that happened, they could be stuck behind the bar for who knew how long. Would they have to tranquilize him and his assistant to escape after all?

As Ziegler and Sabine moved about the room, Quinn kept her stare zeroed in on the open end of the bar. If either came around to pour drinks, she would drop them.

To her great relief, Ziegler didn’t take a seat at his desk, nor did either step behind the bar. The door between offices opened and shut. Quinn blew out a long, slow breath.

“They’re on their way back to the conference room,” Darius said after the outer door closed with a clunk. “You two okay?”

“Yeah, we’re fine,” James said.

“What happened? I couldn’t hear anything through your comms.”

“We were witness to what would best be described as a quickie,” Quinn said.

Darius snickered. “I wondered. They looked pretty happy coming out of that office.”

James and Quinn stood and hurried out from behind the bar. “Get us out of here and we’ll describe every awkward detail for you later,” James said.

“Nah. I’m good.” After a beat, Darius said, “The hall is clear. You’re good to go.”

“Copy,” James said, holstering his pistol. Quinn did the same.

Seconds later, they were through the front office and out the door. Once in the hallway, they turned and retraced their steps.

They were halfway to the elevator when Darius said, “Security guard incoming from the corridor up ahead.”

“Is there a bathroom or janitor’s closet we can duck into?” Quinn asked.

“Nothing close enough,” Darius said. “If you hurry, you can get into the stairwell next to the elevator before he turns the corner. Try not to look too obvious, though. You don’t want to catch the eye of the security people watching these feeds.”

Quinn practically jogged to keep pace with James when his stride lengthened. He arrived at the door first and shoved it open. Quinn caught a flash of a gray uniform as she swept past James and started down the stairs.

The sound of their pounding feet echoed off the concrete walls of the cavernous stairwell. They descended one floor and had three more to go when they heard the metal door bang closed.

“He’s after you. Step on it,” Darius said.

“Halt!” a voice boomed from above.

When James leapt over the steps two at a time, so did she.

Since she was short, it wasn’t an easy feat. “I feel like a mountain goat,” she said between panted breaths.

They tore past the door with a 1 painted on it.

“One more floor,” James said. “Darius, we need the van out front.”

“On it.”

“Halt! Jetzt!” the voice shouted.

Quinn launched over the last three steps and stuck her landing next to the door that exited to the ground floor.

She stooped, took her tranquilizer pistol from its holster, and slipped it into her lab coat pocket. James did the same.

Shoulder against the door, she held the handle and looked in James’s face. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Quinn yanked open the door. They left the stairwell and kept their steps measured down the short corridor and into the lobby.

Her eyes darted about, surveying the area. Two security guards stationed on either side of the exit scanned faces as people left the building.

Quinn slipped her hand into her pocket and wrapped her fingers around the pistol’s grip. She looked through the glass doors. No sign of the van. “Darius?”

“Almost there,” Darius said. She heard the blast of a car horn. “Move it, ya jerk!”

James glanced around. “Hurry up, buddy.”

“Halt! ”

Quinn looked over her shoulder. The guard from the stairwell sprinted toward them, pistol in hand. He did not look happy.

She withdrew her pistol, whirled around, and fired.

At the sound of the gunshot, shrieks broke out. People dove for cover.

The security guard stumbled forward, his face registering shock. He dropped to his knees and collapsed facedown on the marble floor.

Next to her, James fired off two shots. She spun around and watched the two guards by the door drop.

Quinn and James sprinted past the unconscious men and burst through the front doors, leaving chaos in their wake.

To their left, a black van took a turn at an impressive clip. Two of its tires nearly lifted off the ground.

They darted across the cement courtyard and arrived at the edge of the parking lot at the same time the van screeched to a stop.

James jerked open the back door. Quinn flung the briefcase into the back of the van and dove in after it. James hauled himself up behind her. “Go!” he shouted and slammed the door.

The van’s violent acceleration sent Quinn tumbling backward. She crashed into James, pinning him against the back. He wrapped her in his arms and kissed the side of her head.

Trembling from the river of adrenaline coursing through her veins, she had no intention of moving. “Well, that was exciting.”

“It was,” he replied. “If we can handle that, our wedding will be a breeze.”

Quinn rifled through the clothes piled in her suitcase. Where had she put those blasted things?

The chiming phone in her pocket interrupted her frantic search. She huffed a breath to stop the rising panic and checked the screen. A soft smile formed when she saw the photo of James smiling back at her.

She put the phone to her ear. “Hey.”

“Hey. I want to apologize for how awkward it got with my parents tonight. Ever since my mom left and opened that oxygen bar in Arizona, my dad has a hard time being in the same room with her. He’s still bitter.”

“Well, it hasn’t been that long. I’m sure her showing up at the rehearsal dinner with her new boyfriend didn’t help matters. How are you? Are you okay?”

He sighed. “I guess. I just wish she’d left Xander in Sedona. Him being here just adds to the drama. Mom and Kelsey are already hardly speaking to each other.”

Quinn had noticed the strain between James’s mother and younger sister. She wasn’t about to mention it now, though.

As if trying to shake off his melancholy, he sounded more upbeat when he said, “Just so you know, you made a good impression on Mom. She said you’re lovely and charming and I am lucky to be marrying you.”

“Well, duh,” she said, teasing him. “Seriously, though, that’s sweet of her to say. I hope I get a chance to get to know her better. Meeting your future mother-in-law for the first time the day before the wedding isn’t optimal.”

“No, it’s not. But with you in training at the Farm and me in Moscow, it couldn’t be helped. We were lucky to squeeze in time with my dad and Kelsey in Colorado after we got engaged and before I left.” James’s father, Steven, was a corporate lawyer in Denver.

“True. Speaking of parents, I saw my dad had you cornered. You kinda looked like you were about to be devoured by a grizzly bear.”

James breathed a quiet laugh. “That’s about right.”

“What did he say?”

“He said he was proud to have me as a son-in-law and if we ever needed anything, we could come to him.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“No, it was a nice thing to say. But then he gave me this eagle-eyed stare and said in this bone-chilling way, ‘If you ever hurt Quincy, you’ll answer to me.’”

“Oh boy. Sorry about that,” she said ruefully. “He’s a little overprotective.”

“No worries. I get it. You’re his only daughter. I told him he’d have to wait until you got through with me first.”

She laughed. “I bet he appreciated that.”

“I think he did. He smirked a little, like, ‘Yeah, that’s my girl, all right.’ And then your mom came over and told him your grandfather needed to talk to him.”

“Grandpa to the rescue.” Her grandfather, a longtime member of the CIA and the man who had recruited her into the agency, never missed a thing.

“Like a superhero. After your dad left, your mom assured me his bark is worse than his bite.”

“It’s true. Just don’t tell anyone at Pendleton. He has a reputation to uphold.”

“My lips are sealed.” Shifting gears, he asked, “How are you? Ready for tomorrow?”

“So ready.” Quinn’s hotel room door opened and Nicole Park Baldwin, her best friend, matron of honor, and roommate for the night walked in. She acknowledged Nicole with a quick wave and said to James, “I’m kinda freaking out, though. I can’t find the earrings I was planning on wearing tomorrow. Grandma wore them when she and Grandpa got married.”

Nicole shook her head and rolled her eyes. She walked to the nightstand, picked up a small red box, and flipped open the top. Holding it out for Quinn to see, she said, “You mean these?”

With an embarrassed smile, Quinn answered, “Um, yeah. Those.”

Nicole snapped the box closed and returned it to the nightstand. “That’s it. You’ve officially lost it. Time for us to find you something to do.”

“But it’s late and—”

“It’s not that late. Tell James good night and you’ll see him tomorrow.”

Quinn shot her a defiant look. “Who said I’m talking to James?”

Nicole’s response was a flat stare.

“Okay, fine. I’m talking to James.”

“Who you left at the rehearsal dinner an hour ago,” Nicole stated.

“You’d better do what she says,” James said, amusement coloring his voice.

From the determined look on Nicole’s face, Quinn knew it was pointless to argue. “You’re right,” she said to James. “What are you going to do?”

“Madison and Monroe said something about taking me down to the bar for a drink.”

“Oh boy.” Her twin brothers were always up to something.

“Don’t worry. I won’t let Fred and George lead me astray.”

She grinned. Their shared love of all things Harry Potter made her incredibly happy. “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait. I love you. Good night.”

“I love you, too. Good night.”

She’d barely ended the call when Nicole said, “Come on. Let’s go.”

Quinn stood firm and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not going anywhere with you until you promise me we’re not going pole dancing again. You talked me into those lessons for my bachelorette party. Once was enough.”

“You should keep it up. You’re a natural. I bet James would love to install a pole in your apartment.” Nicole smirked when Quinn snorted. “And relax, would you? There’s a fro-yo place not far from here.”

Quinn cast a wary glance. “Frozen yogurt?” She looked over at the clock. “I guess we could go and get back before it gets too late.”

“Exactly.” Quinn caught her purse when Nicole tossed it at her. “Let’s go.”

A few minutes later, they were in Nicole’s car, driving along the streets of Los Angeles, crowded with people ready to blow off some steam on a Friday night.

Quinn didn’t say anything when Nicole drove past the first yogurt place. When they sailed past a second, she spoke up. “Is there some special fro-yo shop we’re going to? Because we’ve already passed a couple.”

Nicole peeked over at her and then looked out the windshield again. “We’re not going for fro-yo.”

“What? Where the hell are you taking me?” When Nicole didn’t answer immediately, Quinn’s annoyance was obvious when she said, “This isn’t funny, Nic. I’m getting married tomorrow. Take me back to the hotel.”

Nicole continued to drive, unfazed. “I’m fully aware you’re getting married tomorrow. Trust me. I understand exactly how you feel. Nervous. Excited. Jumpy. I went through the same thing myself less than a year ago. Remember?”

Quinn did recall the day, even through the fog of disappointment, when she’d been convinced James was about to break up with her. He’d proposed to her instead. “Yeah, I remember.” And Nicole described exactly how Quinn felt: nervous, excited, and jumpy.

“And to get you through the rest of this evening without going completely bonkers, we’re going to go to a karaoke place—”

“Nic—”

Nicole held up her hand. “Just for a little while, to take your mind off the wedding. Because, come on. It’s consumed your brain every waking minute for, like, the past month, right?”

Other than when she and James had been in Ziegler’s office during the op the week before, what Nicole said was true. “Okay, yeah.” Quinn huffed a laugh and confessed, “Not just when I’m awake. Last night, I dreamed I was driving myself to the ceremony and I couldn’t find the church. I drove all over in a complete panic.”

“See? Your brain needs this. It’ll be fun.”

The idea of not stressing about the wedding even for an hour or two was enticing. Quinn side-eyed her friend. “If we end up in jail, I’m never speaking to you again.”

Nicole laughed. “No jail time. I promise. And you’ve gone to karaoke with me before. Not once has it ended in incarceration.”

“True. Okay. I’m in, but just as a spectator.”

“Good,” Nicole said as she wheeled the car into the strip mall parking lot. “Because we’re here.”

Quinn got out and looked at the illuminated sign above the door that led into the unassuming bar tucked between a dry cleaner and nail salon. “You’ve got to be kidding. Sing and Swig?”

“Give it a chance. We’re librarians. We don’t judge a book by its cover.”

Quinn closed the car door and noted the darkened windows featuring a Coors beer neon sign. “Yes, we do and you know it.”

“Okay, bad example.” Nicole’s car chirped when she set the alarm. “If it’s a total dive, say the word and we’ll leave and go get fro-yo for real. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Quinn opened the door and was smacked in the face by a wall of sound. Every voice in the bar sang along with the man on the small stage sporting a beer gut and male pattern baldness. He pumped his fist in the air as he wailed the chorus of “Livin’ on a Prayer.”

As the crowd continued to sing along with the Bon Jovi wannabe, Quinn and Nicole meandered through the dark, crowded room to one of the few empty tables. “Gonna grab a couple of drinks for us. Be right back,” Nicole said.

“Just get me a bottle of water,” Quinn called out to Nicole’s retreating form. “She’s not going to bring me water,” she mumbled as she sat.

Quinn clapped for the man who’d just finished his inspired version of the rock classic while she inspected the room. It was unremarkable, with posters advertising various brands of beer tacked to the walls. And despite the fact any calendar would indicate it was the waning days of May, colored Christmas lights were strung along the walls. Lyrics scrolled on a large monitor attached to the wall behind the stage. As her recent training had drilled her to do, she also took note of the exits in the room.

The crowd was comprised mostly of professionals looking to start their weekends off with a bang. The largest single group was one of eight women, all in their mid to late twenties, crammed around two tables pushed together. Quinn and Nicole could have joined them and not appeared out of place. Three of the young women squealed and bounded to the stage when it was their turn. They launched into an enthusiastic rendition of “Shake It Off.”

Quinn tapped her foot to the beat and smiled when the women flicked their hands in the air as if literally shaking it off. Her smile turned to a scowl, though, when Nicole walked toward their table. In each hand, she carried a shot glass filled with pale amber liquid. A lime wedge had been placed atop the salt-coated rim of each glass.

“I hope both of those tequila shots are for you and the water is mine,” Quinn said, eyeing the plastic bottle clamped between Nicole’s upper arm and rib cage.

As she sat, Nicole set one of the glasses in front of Quinn. Quinn opened her mouth to protest, but Nicole cut her off before she could utter a word.

“I know. You don’t want to be hungover the day of your wedding. You know I won’t let that happen. One shot. That’s all I ask. It’ll take the edge off.” Nicole set the bottle on table. “Drink all the water you want after that.”

A blanket of nerves had covered her for days. Having it lift, if only for a little while, was tempting. “I guess one shot won’t hurt.” The second she uttered those words, she hoped they wouldn’t end up in the Words You Regretted Saying Hall of Fame. In one swift movement, she picked up the glass, downed the tequila in one gulp, and bit the lime. She slammed the glass on the table, shuddered, and squeezed her eyes shut as the tequila burned its way down her throat. The fire in her chest rapidly spread and warmed her to her fingertips. She opened her eyes and grinned at Nicole.

Her friend nodded in approval. “Better?” . . .