Mission Inn-possible 02 - Strawberry Sin Read online

  STRAWBERRY SIN

  A Mission Inn-possible Cozy Mystery Book 2

  ROSIE A. POINT

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  More for you…

  Thank you, Reader!

  Also by Rosie A. Point

  Copyright Rosie A. Point 2020.

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  Created with Vellum

  1

  Every woman’s worst nightmare was waking up to a shadowy figure creeping through their room. That and having to go dress shopping with their grandmother. OK, so maybe the last one was just my thing, but the first one? Yeah, that was definitely true.

  I lay in bed in my room in the Gossip Inn, perfectly still and listening, eyes closed.

  Someone was in the room with me.

  Under usual circumstances, I’d spring into action and attack, but I couldn’t be entirely sure it wasn’t just my grandmother, Gamma, snooping around in my bedroom again. That or Cocoa Puff, the inn’s cat, come for a late-night purr and a snuggle.

  That shuffling noise, that gentle shifting of floorboards as someone drew closer to my bed, could very well be the sound of my untimely doom. My ex-husband, the rogue spy, come to claim his revenge because I’d outed him to our agency, the NSIB.

  Slow and even breathing. Open one eye.

  My room was pitch dark, curtains drawn, and I had to wait for my vision to adjust.

  Shapes appeared—the armoire that held offending dresses covered in gamboling kittens and puppies and smiling cupcakes, the chair next to my dressing table, and… the figure standing at the end of my bed.

  Too tall to be Gamma. Definitely not cat-shaped.

  Kyle.

  A thrill of fear and excitement traveled through me. If he’d found me, I could deal with him myself. I hadn’t trained in five different forms of hand-to-hand combat for nothing.

  The figure, Kyle, it had to be my ex, took a step around the end of my bed, approaching slowly.

  Did he really think I wouldn’t wake up? Surely, he of all people knew what a light sleeper I was.

  Outside in the hall, Cocoa Puff meowed and the intruder halted, watching me for signs of waking. A beat passed and he moved again, his hands stretching out, the scent of his cologne—unfamiliar but not unpleasant—drifting toward me.

  Now!

  I brought my hand up and caught him by the slightly hairy wrist. He grunted, and I tugged him onto the bed, rolled him over to the other side of it and sent him crashing to the floor. I came down on his back, twisting his arm behind him and holding it there.

  Of course, it wasn’t enough.

  This guy, it had to be Kyle Graden, wasn’t a small town attacker.

  He pivoted backward, using his other arm to push himself off the floor, and dumped me off his back.

  Shoot.

  I scrambled back on all fours, rolled and leaped to my feet.

  The guy put up his palms, but I didn’t buy the gesture of supplication. He’d come for blood, and boy, was he going to get it.

  Again, I threw myself at him, unleashing a flurry of attacks. He blocked them one after the other, slightly slow and letting a few punches through, but didn’t fight back.

  “Stop it,” he whispered. “Stop right now.”

  I blinked.

  That voice. That wasn’t…

  I drew back a fist and sent it toward his chin, just to test my theory.

  He caught it. “Charlie, stop!”

  “Smulder?” I dropped my arms to my sides, the adrenaline still pumping through my veins. It couldn’t be him, surely. The agent who was my liaison with the NSIB was meant to keep me safe from a distance. There wasn’t any reason for him to be here, unless something big had happened. They caught Kyle? It would be a miracle if that was true. “Smulder, is that you?”

  “It’s me,” he said.

  I hurried around to the lampshade on my bedside table and switched it on. Light flooded the room, exposing the cozy interior, the soft white bedspread, the bookshelf Gamma had had installed for me, and Smulder.

  Larger than life.

  And quite handsome.

  Smulder had cut his dark hair short and his deep brown eyes had always been too kind for my liking. An agent was meant to be sharp and ruthless, not soft and warm. But there he was, tall, lean, and wearing a suit of all things.

  “Hi,” I said.

  He frowned at me.

  “Fine, forget I said anything.”

  “You hit me in the stomach.”

  “You were in my bedroom in the dead of the night,” I said. “I thought you were… you know who.” Saying Graden’s name out loud was against the rules of my ‘hide-out’ situation here at the inn. “Why are you here?”

  Smulder’s wrinkles grew more pronounced. He turned away from me. “Put on a robe and then we’ll talk about it.”

  I blushed red hot. I’d gone to bed, in February for Pete’s sake, in my PJ shorts and strappy top. The inn had internal heating. The clothes weren’t particularly revealing but weren’t appropriate for a professional meeting. Then again, if he’d wanted a professional meeting, he shouldn’t have sneaked into my bedroom at… what was the time? 2 am?

  I have to get up in a few hours for work.

  I’d make Smulder pay for disturbing my sleep cycle.

  I tugged on my robe—white and comfy, and matching the one my grandmother had bought herself—and sat down on the end of my bed. “Smulder.”

  My fellow NSIB agent walked to the dressing table and dragged the chair out from underneath it. He sat down, balancing his forearms on his thighs, his hands clasped together. “Smith.”

  My undercover name. That had to mean they hadn’t caught Kyle yet and that Smulder was here for another reason.

  Cocoa Puff meowed and scratched at my bedroom door—I’d left it open for him earlier, but Smulder must have closed it. Annoying. He’d been here all of two minutes and he’d already started messing with my stuff.

  “Why are you here?” I repeated.

  “It’s not going to be easy for me to say,” Smulder replied. “And you’re not going to like it.”

  “Spill it. This is compromising my cover.” I glared at him, not groggy in the slightest after our fight.

  “I’m here on the request of Special Agent in Charge Grant.”

  Our boss.

  “He wanted me to check in on you.”

  That was highly unorthodox. Sending two agents to the same small town in Texas, to an inn that was owned by my grandmother, the retired NSIB spy, risked drawing more attention to me. Unless, he planned on taking me to the real ‘underground.’ Was that it?

  “Check in on me?” I asked, stiffly. “What does that even mean? You shouldn’t be here. You’re compromising everything.”

 
; “Compromising everything,” he repeated.

  “That’s what I said.”

  “You were nearly compromised two weeks ago.” Smulder’s gaze was no longer kind. “I was the one who had to keep things under control. Me being here has no bearing on whether your cover is compromised or not. The only one in control of that is you.”

  “That was a tad vitriolic. What’s the matter, Smully? Didn’t get your Cheerios this morning?”

  “It’s the middle of the night.”

  “Whatever.” I held up a finger. “No, not whatever. You shouldn’t be here. You should leave. Look, I’m sure Grant is annoyed about the incident, but—”

  “You mean the, ‘you investigating a murder and almost being pinned as the one who did it without permission’ incident?”

  “Catchy nomenclature you’ve got there,” I said. “I prefer the term ‘Cupcakegate.’ What do you think?”

  “I think you’re lucky I’m not here to take you underground for real.”

  A sliver of relief poked through my annoyance at Smulder. “Then what, you came all this way just to check up on me? Why not call?”

  Smulder opened his mouth to reply. The bedroom door crashed open before he could get a word out.

  2

  Gamma Georgina, a dainty woman with her gray hair in curls and a British accent, strode into my bedroom, her sawed off shotgun cradled in the crook of her arm. Cocoa Puff ran in on her heels, meowing complaints at being kept from his favorite sleeping spot—the end of my bed.

  Gamma directed the shotgun at Smulder, who put up his hands. A wise decision. She cast her eagle-eyed stare in my direction. “Charlotte, if you wanted a Valentine’s date, there are more appropriate ways to go about getting one.”

  “Thanks, Gam—I mean, Georgina. I appreciate the tip.” I was still getting used to calling Gamma by her first name. “Mind closing the door?”

  Gamma tapped it shut with her heel.

  “Ma’am, there’s no need to be alarmed,” Smulder said.

  “Isn’t there?” Gamma asked. “I’d say there’s a great deal to be alarmed about for you.”

  Smulder’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

  “Charlotte, do you need me to put a hole in this man?”

  “I think you’d probably blow out part of the wall if you did,” I said, “and no.”

  “But he’s not a Valentine’s date?” Gamma asked.

  “No.”

  Gamma rolled her eyes and lowered the shotgun. “Well, what on earth am I going to do with you? You’ve got to start naturalizing in Gossip if you want people to buy your cover. Valentine’s Day is in two weeks. I suggest you find a date.”

  “That’s hardly my main concern right now, Georgina.” I gestured to Smulder. “This is my liaison.”

  “Your liaison,” Gamma said, arching a silver eyebrow. “Here?”

  “Exactly.”

  Gamma walked back to the door and locked it. She propped her shotgun against the wall then took a seat next to me on the bed, placing a hand on Cocoa Puff’s head. The black cat purred and kneaded my bedspread, caught between me and my grandmother. All three of us watched Smulder.

  He swallowed again.

  “Well?” Gamma asked. “What’s going on?”

  “My name is Brian Smulder,” he replied.

  “Try not to avoid the question, Brian,” she said. “Why have you come? Are you here to take Charlotte away?”

  Smulder took a breath—he knew exactly who my grandmother was, how important and revered she’d been in the NSIB. He hadn’t known how she looked until now, no one but the high-ups in the NSIB did, but he could sense her power. It was easy for me to forget how intimidating she was to others because she had, as she’d put it, “Changed my diapers and cleaned my bottom.”

  “No. I’m not here to take her away,” he said. “But what happened a few months ago couldn’t be ignored. Special Agent in Charge Grant sent me to make sure things are going smoothly here.”

  “For how long?” I asked.

  Smulder exhaled. “For as long as he wants me here.”

  “What?” I jerked off the bed. “What? No! He’s making you babysit me?”

  “You almost blew your cover,” Smulder said. “You’re lucky I held this off for so long.”

  “Lucky? I’m lucky? I don’t feel very lucky.”

  Smulder shook his head. “If you hadn’t gotten involved in a murder investigation, this wouldn’t be happening.”

  “Hey, I didn’t feed him that poisoned cupcake on purpose. That’s not my fault.” I threw up my hands. “This is about your butt, isn’t it? You did this because you’re mad about your butt.”

  “My butt is fine!” Smulder growled.

  “His butt?” Gamma asked, turning her head like a tennis spectator. “What’s his bottom got to do with it?”

  “He got shot once,” I said. “It was kind of my fault.”

  “Kind of?”

  “Fine, entirely my fault, but hey, I said sorry.”

  “I was in physiotherapy for months,” Smulder said to Gamma. “But that’s not what this is about. Grant believes you need supervision.”

  “Babysitting.” I sat down on the bed again, taking deep breaths. It wasn’t just that my boss didn’t trust me, it was that Smulder was part of the NSIB and having him here was complicated. My grandmother had an entire armory of weapons in the basement, all of which the NSIB would confiscate if they found out. And Gamma, though she was a retired spy, would probably get in trouble for it.

  “Oh dear,” Gamma said.

  “You can’t stay.”

  “I’m staying,” Smulder said. “It’s either this or you have to go deep underground. That was the ultimatum the Special Agent in Charge gave me. I held this off for as long as possible, but the fact that we haven’t heard anything about Graden—”

  “That’s it?”

  “You can call Grant about it if you think you’ll have any more luck than I have,” Smulder said. “I don’t want to be here either.”

  “Well, isn’t that charming?” Gamma sighed.

  “No offense meant, ma’am.” He put up a hand.

  “Call me, Georgina,” she said. “Now, are you going to be staying here at the inn?”

  “He can stay somewhere else.” No way was he staying here. No way.

  “What, at the Gossip Hotel?” Gamma shuddered. “This is the only friendly inn for miles. He’ll have to stay here. I have a room right next door to yours.”

  “You can’t be serious.” This was a nightmare. Not only was I going to be under the close watch of my agent liaison, but having him at the inn? Right next door? “He can’t stay here.”

  “He can and he will,” Georgina said. “Now, are you two going to spend more time with each other?”

  Smulder tugged on his collar. “No, ma’am. I came to deliver the news. I have to collect my information package.”

  “Let me show you to your room first and give you a key,” Gamma said. “Wait here, Charlotte. I’ll fix you some hot chocolate.”

  I stared into space as Smulder and Gamma filed past me and left the room. Disappointment hung heavy around my shoulders. It had been so long since the murder at the inn and the subsequent investigation, I’d figured it had all blown over. My only frustration lately had been dealing with the crotchety new guest, Bob, and his requests for special orders and cleaning instructions. That and the fact that my ex-husband was missing and might pop up unexpectedly.

  But now?

  Gosh, having Smulder here would be restrictive. Sure, he was a nice guy and had been a good partner, but he was as stiff as they came regarding work. He always did things the right way. He wasn’t the type who’d go on an investigating spree with me or stick his nose where it didn’t belong. He was by the book.

  The door opened a few minutes later, and I snapped out of my reverie.

  Gamma shuffled in, wearing her white fluffy robe and carrying two mugs of hot chocolate. “There we go,” she said. “Sit back and re
lax.”

  I smushed myself against the pillows and accepted the treat. “I can’t believe you’re letting him stay,” I hissed. “What about, you know?” I gestured downward.

  “What better way to make sure he doesn’t find anything but to have him here, under my nose? Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

  It wasn’t my place to doubt her. Gamma was far more experienced that I was. She’d been a spy for longer than I’d been alive.

  “He’s handsome, isn’t he?” Gamma asked.

  I nearly spit out my mouthful of hot chocolate. “What? No!”

  “Oh come now, Charlotte, you have eyes.”

  “I don’t think he’s handsome. He’s an agent.”

  Gamma gave me a knowing look, but didn’t say anything else. She stroked Cocoa Puff and drank from her cup, while I tried to work out how on earth I was going to get Smulder out of Gossip and off my back.

  3

  I yawned my way through my morning chores and into the kitchen to help Lauren, the inn’s cheerful chef, at around 7:30 am, hating life. The only positive was that Smulder wasn’t awake yet. I’d tiptoed past his door on my way down the stairs to start my day. It was bad enough having him here, but him being right next door, too? This had to be a part of Gamma’s Valentine’s Day plan.

  She’d been flitting around talking about decorating the inn in paper hearts and having a romantic evening here for the guests for weeks now. I’d tried forgetting it existed. It wasn’t like I had a great history with romance, what with my murderous ex on my tail and all.

  “There you are,” Lauren said, huffing out a breath. Her hair was a mess and her eyes puffy. “I was hoping you’d come down early, Charlie. We’ve got a lot to get done this morning.” She offered me a smile, but it wasn’t as bright as usual.

  “Good morning. Coffee?”

  “Decaf for me.”

  The Charlotte Smith—my cover—would ask gently what was wrong. She wouldn’t pry too much. The Charlotte Mission—the real me—wanted to sit Lauren down at the table and talk to her until she spilled the beans.

  Over the past few months, Lauren and I had grown closer. She had no idea I was a spy or that Gamma had been one for that matter, but still. She was a good person.