Chocolate Chills (A Mission Inn-possible Cozy Mystery Book 6)

on the counter. “Fine. I guess. We’ve been in couples counseling for over a month now, and he still doesn’t get it.”
“What?”
“That what he did was out of order.”
“Hiding in the cabin in the woods?”
“Exactly.” Lauren pounded the dough with her fists. “He doesn’t see it as a selfish. He thinks I wanted to be on my own with Ty.”
A month ago, Lauren’s husband, Jason, had lied to her about his business trips, and hidden out in a cabin on the edge of the inn’s grounds because he couldn’t ‘handle’ the responsibility and exhaustion that had come with having baby Ty.
It was abhorrent.
“You deserve better.” I struggled to keep my mouth shut about this. “I know it’s none of my business, Lauren, but I can’t believe Jason did that to you.” Lauren had no idea that I was a spy or that my grandmother had been, but I was close to her, and it was… different.
I hadn’t let anyone close in my previous life. Shoot, the only person I’d let anywhere near me was my ex-husband and look how that had turned out.
“I can’t believe it either,” Lauren said after a beat.
We fell into silence again, apart from when she told me what to do, and at around 9:00 a.m., I started taking platters of food out to the long table set up at the front of the dining area. Guests had already taken their seats at glossy wooden tables, many of them having helped themselves to coffee from the station at the front of the room.
The floorboards creaked underfoot as I collected a coffee pot and did my rounds, offering to refill cups here or there. I knew most of the guests currently staying at the inn—hazard of not being allowed to leave and my grandmother’s insistence that I play nice.
A pair of identical ladies—twins, obviously—sat at the table in front of the grand windows looking out on the inn’s front lawn. They were both blonde. One had cut her hair into a severe bob, while the other wore it long and twirled into a fancy creation on top of her head. Their blue eyes looked everywhere but at each other.
“Good morning,” I said. “My name is Charlotte, and I’m here to help you if you need anything.” The line had become practiced after this much time in the inn.
“Oh, hello,” the twin with the bob said.
They were in their early thirties? Late twenties? I assessed them, but they didn’t seem threatening, and I highly doubted my ex-husband could pull off a disguise this well. Unless his contacts had started manufacturing human skin suits.
Gross.
“Forgive my sister,” the twin with the elaborate hairstyle said. “I’m Kayla and that’s Josephine. We’re Warts.”
“I… beg pardon?”
“It’s our last name,” Josephine snapped, scratching her neck furiously. She’d left several raw red scrape marks behind. What was that about? Stress reaction? “It’s not uncommon.”
“Why do you have such an attitude problem today?” Kayla asked, gesturing for me to fill up her empty cup.
I did as she’d asked, watching the interaction between the sisters. The mirrored anger was especially disconcerting.
“Can I help you ladies with anything else?” I asked.
“We’re good.” Josephine’s tone was a dismissal, and I backed away from the potential nuclear reaction about to take place at the table.
I turned and nearly walked into Brian, my handsome agent-posing-as-a-gardener boyfriend. I smiled up at him. “Hello,” I said. “How are you?”
Brian’s face usually lit up when he saw me, but his expression remained blank. Did he have news from the undercover agents around the inn? He usually served as the liaison between Special Agent in Charge Grant and me, and now was no different.
“We need to talk,” he said. “Soon.”
“I’m kind of in the middle of breakfast at the moment.” I forced a bright smile. Whatever Brian wanted to talk about, I wasn’t in the mood for it. I could tell from the way he kept his face completely still that he was not happy with me.
Funny how I’d grown so used to him that I could read his moods even without facial expressions.
“All right. We’ll talk later. You know where to find me.” And then he left me to complete the breakfast service.
A shout rang out from the Wart table—there was a strange turn of phrase—and I rolled my eyes.
More cats to herd.

3
I hadn’t caught up with Brian for the rest of the day. That was in part by design—I didn’t want to have an argument when my mood was already terrible. Evening had come, and I changed into my striped PJs and cotton robe after a welcome bubble bath.
Cocoa Puff lay purring on the end of my bed, and I ran a brush through my now short hair—I’d cut it a month ago because I’d hated the long, dark curls that had been a part of my cover. I stared at my reflection in the mirror of my dressing table, my fist tightening around my brush handle.
“Oh stop.” I slammed my brush onto the dressing table.
Cocoa flicked his tail at me but didn’t quit purring.
“There’s nothing you can do,” I said, pointing at my reflection. “You can’t go out there and hunt for him.” Not with the NSIB watching my every move.
But I couldn’t stand the waiting either.
Had I not been patient for months now? Waited while the NSIB tried hunting Kyle down and failed continuously. Now what? I had to trust them to handle the situation when they hadn’t even—
A knock came at my bedroom door, and I tensed.
I quietly slid open my dressing table drawer and removed the false bottom. My grandmother had given me a pistol, just in case. I strapped it to my waist, then pulled my robe close so it wouldn’t be noticeable.
Chances were, my ex-husband hadn’t managed to sneak past all the agents, infiltrate the inn, and get past my grandmother—she was the last layer of protection that he wouldn’t break. Still, better to be safe than sorry.
I approached the door, one hand on my gun,