A Harmless Little Ruse (Harmless #2) by Meli Raine

Mark. “Work. We need to go.” I nudge my head toward my place. “Bye, Tiffany.”
    “Bye, Drew. And nice to meet you --”
    I close the door and run my hands through my hair while Mark tries to laugh silently.
    “Girlfriend? Now you’re calling Lindsay your girlfriend? If she’s your girlfriend, I’d hate to see what a woman who really hates you looks like, Foster.”
    I glare. “Fuck off, Paulson.”
    “Threesome,” he gasps. “That’s a first.”
    “Really? Even in the DEA, undercover...?” Mark’s worked deep undercover for years.
    “Been hit on by guys. Loads of women. Never been offered a threesome, though.” He frowns. “Carrie’s going to hate hearing this.”
    I don’t even ask why he’s telling her. I know his philosophy of relationships. You keep a secret when you need to, or when work requires it. Otherwise, you tell everything, because we already have to keep so many secrets.
    Relationships are built on sharing and trust.
    Trust.
    Right.
    Lindsay can’t trust me, and I don’t blame her.
    And I can’t share everything with her because I don’t have a choice.
    “Thanks for the very interesting evening, Foster. I came here to make sure you’re okay, and instead I got to be a judge on Best Plastic Surgery in Malibu.”
    “Don’t ever say my jobs aren’t intellectually stimulating.”
    “I think Tiffany’s over there intellectually stimulating herself right now,” he adds dryly.
    “Gross.”
    But we laugh.
    “Tiffany’s a nice person. She just has boundary issues.”
    “Don’t fuck her for the wrong reasons, Drew.”
    I jolt. “Is there a right reason? I have zero interest in fucking her.”
    “Good.”
    “Why do you care?”
    “I don’t. But you’re so in love with Lindsay, and she’s so angry with you, that I can see how crazy it’s making you. And when we get crazy, we make bad choices.” He grimaces. “I know I have.”
    “Right.” I’m still buzzing, and shutting down. My body twitches, calves spasming. I need to make love with Lindsay, beat off, or go for a ten-mile run.
    Preferably all three.
    “Look. I came over here to make sure you’re okay.”
    “I’m fine.”
    “Fine.” He lets out a bark of laughter and shakes his head. “Right. Just like we were all fine in Afghanistan. Fine is the stupidest word when it comes to describing emotional states.”
    “You sound like my psychologist.”
    “How is Dr. Diamante?” The question isn’t casual. I know what he’s telling me. Not asking.
    Telling.
    “Wouldn’t know. Haven’t had to see her in a while.”
    “Might want to give her a call.”
    “Might not.”
    His nostrils flare. It’s posturing. He’s not my commanding officer any longer. In fact, I’m his boss. And my personal life and emotional state are none of Mark’s business. Nice of him to care, but he needs to butt the fuck out.
    He sighs and reaches into his pocket, jangling his car keys. “Do what you want.”
    “I always do.”
    “But -- ”
    I groan.
    “But you almost got yourself fired today. Expect a text from the senator.”
    “Already got one.”
    “He’s pissed. Rightly so. Everyone’s pretending to accept Lindsay’s fake story about an ‘attacker,’ but that’s her one shot. Another mess like this and you’re toast.”
    “You mean she is.”
    “Yeah.” His voice turns sad. “Yeah. She’s in an impossible bind.”
    I flinch. He frowns, puzzled, then pulls back, blinking hard.
    “Sorry. Poor choice of words.”
    A vision of Lindsay bound and tied by those animals makes my blood race. The twitchiness overcomes all the alcohol in my system and I start to breathe hard. Grabbing a glass, I pour myself water from the pitcher in my fridge and guzzle it down.
    Mark just watches me.
    “You really love her.”
    “Of course.” My voice comes out like ice chips, one piece per syllable. “You knew that.”
    “It’s one thing to be told something. It’s very different to watch it.”
    “That obvious?”
    “You might