Queisha Jones quit her job as a courier for a spy organization that’s quietly operated out of Mama’s Travel Agency. She’s drawn back into the fold when they need her to retrieve secret documents leading to the whereabouts of her missing brother. The request seemed simple until she was informed that she needed to travel with a bodyguard. He turned out to be the new guy at work, a seemingly unappealing man who always smelled like bubble gum and sweat. She was dead set against him following her, but there was no time to make a change.

Carl Cove, assassin and thief, has a disguise for every occasion. No one is allowed to know his true identity. Then, he’s assigned to protect Queisha. His orders: follow her, collect the information she finds, and use it to root out a mole in the organization. As planned, every time she sees him, he is in one of his disguises. After their first brief encounter, all his training flies out the window, and he wants to know more about Queisha Jones. He changes the rules and becomes her bodyguard, while still in disguise, of course. Everything goes as planned until they are attacked, and he is forced to train her in the art of deception. One way or another, she will get to know the real Carl Cove. Both their lives will depend on it.

“I’m done, Mama J, I want out.”
My jaw was set and my attitude mean. Mama James sat across from me behind her antique desk, arms crossed, long nails clicking a staccato beat. She insisted everyone call her Mama J. Her dark bronze complexion was flawless—as usual—making it hard to believe she was in her seventies.
“Now, Queisha, don’t be so quick to leave.”
We were in the back office of Mama’s Travel Agency. The room was a decent size, but the travel brochures stacked on every open surface gave it a cramped, closed-in feel. Slick, glossy print full of smiling people on vacation stared at me from every corner. They screamed leisure and adventure and—dare I say it?—romance.
I sneered and pushed over the stack teetering on a plush blue chair in front of the desk. They slumped onto the floor in a messy pile of 52-card pickup.
“Wow, you are in a bit of a snit.” Mama J eyed me warily.
I slid into the now vacant chair and crossed my right leg over the left. The word snit did not even begin to describe my mood. Nervous energy coursed through my body. My foot bobbed back and forth to the beat of my heart. I was angry as hell. “How many times do I have to tell you this job almost got my cousin, Angela, killed? My God, she was kidnapped right in front of my eyes, and, when I contacted you about the situation, all you were worried about was whether or not I was able to make the drop!”
She cut her eyes at me and gave me that child-are-you-crazy look. “I told you we would handle it. Besides, it was critical that our operative there in Dar es Salaam receive the intel you were sent to deliver.”
And this was why I wanted to quit my side gig as a courier for Mama J and her acquaintances over at the State Department. They’d recruited me to go on the odd trip to deliver packages for their organization, SPINE—a smarmy little acronym that stood for SPecial Investigations NEtwork. It was supposed to be a different kind of organization: no spying, intelligence-gathering only. Information was king and they were the best in the business.
As for me, I wanted to travel. Acting as a courier where the job paid all the expenses seemed the cheapest way to go. Besides, I was my own best disguise. No one would suspect an African-American woman from the mean streets of DC could get a gig like this. The head guy at SPINE said my style of dress wouldn’t even raise the slightest bit of suspicion as I moved around the world doing jobs for them.
I must concede his point; their plan worked outrageously well. Everyone saw gum-smacking, blinged-out Queisha—to the point that they never even considered me a courier for an intelligence organization.
That’s right; I carried shit around the world for spies.
My last job almost got a close relative killed and they hadn’t given one single damn. I don’t have many un-crossable lines in my life, but the safety of my family is one of them. Therefore, I wanted out. “She should have never gone with me to Tanzania.” My ankle bobbed at a furious rate now. “I’m pissed at myself for playing along with your scheme.”
Mama J crossed her arms and clenched her jaw. “What was I supposed to do when her mother approached me hours before you arrived? Tell her no; her daughter can’t go because her niece was a secret operative on a mission?” She hissed the last bit out, then closed her eyes and held her palms up to the ceiling, and hummed. “Namaste. Lord, please help me to calm down. Oh, and give this child some good sense while you’re at it.”
My foot stopped and I stared at her. “Weren’t you listening to a thing I said?”
I stood and walked over to the two-way mirror. I could see into the public area of the travel agency, but they could not see me. A couple of people chatted with Mama’s employee, Cyndi, about a Caribbean cruise. A woman and her teenager studied a brochure for Cancun. This was a sweet setup—have your operatives receive their assignments at a travel agency that actually books trips for real clients. Too bizarre. Unreal.
Mama J came over to look out as well. “For what it’s worth, I was just as worried about your cousin, Angela, as you were. We had our best agents searching for her. Anyway, it worked out just fine.”
“Yeah, she got herself out of the problem,” I snarled.
“And she gave me a great review to boot,” she added.
A great review. I could not believe my ears. There was nothing more to say. I owed them not one thing—not even my loyalty. She was lucky to get my resignation in person. I’d half-heartedly considered texting it to her.
I slung my pocketbook over my shoulders and wheeled out of her office, determined to be done with SPINE and Mama J.
“One more thing before you go.”
“What?” I refused to break my stride.
“We found a lead on your brother.”
That stopped me.
“I don’t believe you,” I grated. I’d been lied to about his whereabouts so many times, it would take more than her word for me to even think about believing her.
I focused on leaving the agency, and woe to the person who got in my way. The couple saw me and moved before I collided with them. I pushed the door open and ran into a man.
We collided in a whoosh of air. I bounced off his thick waist, lost my balance, and stumbled toward the floor. Strong hands grabbed me before I landed.
I understood physics enough to know that two bodies could not occupy the same space at the same time, but physics hadn’t been my best subject, and my sour mood darkened to rage. I shoved the offending hand away, determined to give him a hard time. “Watch where you’re going!” I shouted.
Green eyes nestled in a pudgy, freckled face gazed at me. A smile creased his lips, exposing uneven coffee-stained teeth. “I’m sorry. It’s all my fault,” he said in a thick Bostonian accent.
I knew that voice and the mop of red hair that came with those eyes. “Carl?”
Carl Covel worked in the offices across the hall from mine. He was tall, middle-aged, heavyset, and smelled of mints and bubble gum. He always seemed to show up at the same time I took my morning coffee break. Running into him at work was one thing, but here at Mama’s Travel Agency? Gah. Not what I needed today.
“Yes, it’s me. You’re Queisha from across the hall. Did you come here to sign up for Mama J’s Caribbean getaway cruise?”
I was so mad about Angela, I’d forgotten all about the cruise. There was no way I would take a free trip from Mama at this point.
I glanced back toward her office. She stood by the door with a smirk on her face.
My back stiffened and I tugged my skirt into place, then hitched my pocketbook higher on my shoulder. “No. I came to give her a review in person.” I yanked the door open. “Sorry, gotta bounce.”
I was in the wind and off to work to finish my day and, hopefully, cool down. His gaze followed me as I pushed past him. It didn’t matter; he could stare at merchandise he was never going to get.