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Wicked Suspicion
-- EXCERPT: “How are we supposed to play out a fake engagement when we know nothing about each other?” “We’ll have to manage. Your name is really Nyx? You didn’t lie to Vargas, right?” “It’s really Nyx. I guessed his men would locate the Jeep I rented, search it, and find the rental paperwork. I thought it would go worse if I didn’t tell the truth.” The merc nodded. “You’re smart and able to think quickly. Good. We’re going to need that to pull off this charade.” They needed a miracle to get through this, but she kept that to herself. “You know my name, but all I know is Vargas called you Señor Case.” “I go by Charlie Case.” Go by. He might as well say he was using the alias Charlie Case. “Do you want me to call you Charlie?” “No.” The answer came immediately. “Charles? Chuck? Chas? CC?” No response. Yep, Charlie was not his real name. “Do you have a nickname I could use?” “I have a handle, but it’ll sound strange to Vargas if you use it.” The man was annoying the hell out of her. “I have to call you something. Tell me the nickname and I’ll offer my opinion on how usable it is.” Frowning, he said, “My buddies call me Lurch.” “Lurch?” It was sheer dint of will that kept her voice low. Her brother’s best friend was Lurch. It was a Special Forces thing that everyone had a handle of some sort. Although she’d never asked, she suspected it was about security, but her brother went next level. He’d given her a nickname when they were kids—one she hated—and he used it all the time. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually called her Nyx. Was this the same Lurch? The one her brother trusted? She’d only seen a picture of him once. Dylan with his three buddies. Nyx recalled him enlarging the image for her, pointing at them as he gave her their handles. “This is Ollie,” he told her. “That’s Mick, and that’s my best buddy, Lurch.” Nyx leaned closer to the mercenary. The man in the picture had a military-short haircut and no facial hair, and she did her best to see through the merc’s scruff. “I told you,” he said. “You can’t use my handle.” Ignoring him, Nyx tried to superimpose the face of this man over her memory of that picture. Yes, this was Dylan’s best friend. As surprise gave way to certainty, she tightened her lips. She’d talked to Dylan a couple months ago. He, Lurch, Ollie, and Mick had gone on a fishing trip, and he’d made an offhand comment about it being touch and go that Lurch would get leave. Dylan wouldn’t be friends with a merc, especially one with loose enough morals to be a gunrunner. Mere weeks ago, Lurch had been in the Army. It didn’t take much to connect the dots. She couldn’t tell Lurch she knew who he was, or that she was Dylan’s sister. Even with the shower running, the risk was too great. Nyx would pretend his cover story was truth even when they were alone. It was the only way to protect his mission. It was the only way to protect him. Because this man was not a mercenary. He was US Army Special Forces, and he was on a covert op. 
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