Page 1 of Married to Mischief

Prologue

Serena

Location:Phoenix,AZ

The FBI was lenient with Liam.Muchtoo lenient. He got six months of house arrest, then a year of being an informant with none other than Agent Harris as his handler. Though, that’s where the leniency came to an abrupt end. Caleb was irate when the director told him and plans to make Liam’s life a nightmare.

Liam has much more delusional aspirations for their partnership: friendship.

And I’ve got a front-row seat for it all. But first, I get to celebrate my boyfriend being a free man.

I pull up outside the ostentatious penthouse Liam bought for himself when he chose to undergo house arrest in Phoenix. He tried to get Grandpa Henry to come with him, but the old manwas stubborn and refused. Liam offered to buy a mansion for the two of us, but I very pointedly declined. I’ve been alone a long time and still need some space for myself. Of course, when I told him this, he said I could have an entire wing to fill with a shooting range and training area.

I turned that down as well, but now I firmly regret it. It’s been a long six months, and I’m ready to be in the same place as my boyfriend all the time… and to be able to go farther than a two-mile radius.

The doorman lets me in with a smile, and I take the elevator to the top floor.

I silently unlock the door, hoping to catch Liam off guard. We consider it a relationship-enhancing game when we both try to get the upper hand on each other. It’s not for everyone.

I ease the door shut behind me and press into the nearest wall, waiting, listening.

There’s a shuffling near the kitchen, and I spin, going in the opposite direction to catch him when he emerges. I wait for a few more noises and movements.

Footsteps draw near, and I count, having performed this specific takedown many times.

When he hits twelve steps, I jump from my hiding place, swinging an arm around his neck, prepared to get him in a headlock, but Liam is faster and scoops me into his arms instead.

“It’s about time, Special Agent Cruz. I’ve been getting impatient.” He grins, marching me straight to the couch and dropping me into the fluffy abyss. He wastes no time peppering me with kisses, scraping his new beard along the hollow of my neck where he learned recently that I’m ticklish.

“Stop!” I wheeze.

“You started it.” He pops up, his impatient, hungry eyes on mine. “I intend to finish it.” He drops his lips to mine, and Iforget all else as I fall into the world that only exists for Liam and me. I wrap my arms around his neck, bringing him closer. I never imagined a life like this was possible. Not just dating a con man… The whole thing. A relationship, happiness, freedom from fear…safety.Well, except for the dangerous job, but a girl’s got to take down drug rings and fight criminals sometimes.

The kisses slow, and Liam pulls back. “Did you bring it?”

I slip the small key from my pocket and hold it up. “Let’s see it.”

He stands and props his foot up on the couch beside me.

I run my fingers over the ankle monitor. “I think I’m going to miss this thing.”

“I’m not. It’s wreaking havoc on my sensitive skin.”

“Such a baby,” I tsk, and press the metal key into the monitor. It clicks and releases. I hold it in my hand as Liam rubs his hairless ankle. “I liked knowing where you were at all times.”

“There’s an easy fix for that.” Liam stops rubbing his ankle and drops to his knees in front of me. “I’ll be wherever you are.”

I fight a smile. “That’s true. Caleb is going to hate it.”

“He is,” Liam agrees. “I’m going to flirt with you all day”—he kisses my cheek—“and kiss you at every crime scene.” He goes in for another kiss, but I push him back.

“Not the most romantic of images.”

He grins. “Since my first official day of being an informant starts next week, I figured we have just enough time to take a quick trip to celebrate my freedom.” He jumps up, pulling me with him.

“W-what?” I’m taken aback by the sudden shift. “We can’t go on a trip right now.” Knowing him, he’ll want to fly to South America where he believes the Cillian Moore treasure to be. He’s been talking about it nonstop since he found the coordinates in one of Cillian Moore’s books two months ago.

“Yes, we can.” He grins, tugging me toward the stairs that lead to the roof, and my grip loosens. I suppose a trip to the roof is appropriate. But when he pushes the door open, a gust of air slaps my face from the propellers of a helicopter. On the roof. There’s a helicopter on the roof.

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