Barefoot with a Stranger (Barefoot Bay Undercover #2)(15)

“Nino Rossi,” the older man confirmed, banging his gnarled hand over Mal’s arm and adding an impressive squeeze. “It’s always a surprise and honor that my grandson talks about me.”

“Are you kidding?” Mal asked. “Gabe talked about his whole family.” He glanced at Chessie and couldn’t help adding, “Which is big, so I might not have remembered everyone’s names.”

Truth was, Gabe had mentioned a “baby sister”—not a thirty-year-old beauty with a hot bod and a killer mouth. No, he’d said nothing at all about that in the Rossi family line.

“I’m sure I told you about our family nerd.” Gabe patted Chessie’s back, a joke in his voice, but his gaze a little too inquisitive. Of course, the super spy didn’t miss a beat, and, shit, if they weren’t careful, Gabe would know exactly what beat was pounding in this room.

Chessie inched out of Gabe’s brotherly touch. “Well, you certainly never mentioned anyone named Mal, which I would remember, because that name means bad in so many languages.”

Ouch.

“I met Mal at Gitmo,” Gabe said. “He was a guard there.”

“A prison guard?” Chessie asked, her brows lifting, a subtle expression of hope or relief in her eyes.

Because of the T-shirt, of course. Which he’d left as a way of saying, You made a bad choice, and prayed that would keep her from confiding in her big brother about a stranger named Malcolm Harris.


“He’ll make a great partner for you,” Gabe said to his sister, and to her credit, she didn’t even flinch.

But Mal had had no idea Gabe wanted him to partner on this job. Gabe had called in the middle of the night a few days after Mal got out of Allenwood. He’d agreed to help instantly, even if it meant going back to Cuba undercover.

“But you know I can handle alone whatever you have, Gabe,” Mal said, on the off chance they could get out of this awkward mess.

“It’s going to take a team, and you two are it.” Gabe looked from one to the other, frowning slightly, and Mal braced for the inevitable. Have you two already met? Did you, by any chance, f*ck each other’s brains out? Excuse me while I kick the living shit out of Mal. “I think the cover will work perfectly,” Gabe finally said.

And Mal and Chessie exhaled in perfect unison.

“I’m sure it will,” Mal said quietly.

“As long as there’s a good, clear game plan to follow,” Chessie added.

Gabe laughed. “Well, it is Cuba, so plans are, what would you say, Mal?”

“Subject to change,” he replied.

“Then blown to shit,” Gabe added.

Chessie made a face like she didn’t like the sound of that. “Why do you need us both?”

“Mal can’t go into Cuba solo, even with the new ID I cooked up. With a woman, he’ll fly more under the radar.”

“Why not a different woman?” Chessie asked, her tone telling Mal just how much she didn’t want to go.

“Chessie’s new to field work,” Gabe explained to Mal.

“And he’s a prison guard,” she fired back. “So neither one of us is exactly trained for a mission.”

Gabe got right in her face. “He’s not your run-of-the-mill prison guard, okay, Chess? He speaks decent Spanish and knows the entire island like you know a computer.”

“Then let me use one.”

Gabe’s eyes narrowed. “And you’re the only person on earth besides the people in this room who knows about this kid.”

“Which is probably the real reason I got the job,” she said, no small amount of sarcasm in her voice.

“Maybe it is,” Gabe agreed. “But whatever my reasons, you’re going to do this for me because…” He swallowed hard. “Because that child could be your nephew, and I think you are incredibly qualified to find him.”

Chessie softened visibly. The fight went out of her as her shoulders sank and her eyes shuttered closed. “Of course,” she whispered. “I would do anything for you and for…your son.” She glanced at Mal and gave him a look he couldn’t quite interpret. “And I’m sure Mal and I can work together.”

She put enough emphasis on work that he could figure that message: work and only work.

“Good.” Gabe gestured toward the table nestled near sliding glass doors. “Nino,” he yelled over his shoulder. “Feed us, old man.”

“You got it, Gabriel!”

“And you two…” He draped one arm around Chessie and one arm around Mal and pushed them a little closer. “You are going to love each other.”

Six inches apart, they could barely look at each other, let alone manage a reply that wouldn’t be loaded with irony.

Chessie was the first to slip away, narrowing her eyes at her brother. “I swear to God, if you say we pretend to be married—”

“Married?” The word caught in Mal’s throat.

“What do I look like?” Gabe scoffed. “A man with no imagination? You think I’d pull that same stunt twice?” He scooped Chessie back under his arm and led them both to waiting chairs at a table covered with papers, fake passports, airline tickets, and an open map of a country Mal would prefer never to step foot in again.