Page 115 of Summer Heat
She shifted to look at him, balancing on her good foot, more than aware that her insides were spinning. “What’s up?”
His hand stayed at the base of her back, the heat of his touch warm through her shirt. “Goddamn, you’re gorgeous. Just thought you should know what I’d be looking at on the flight home.” Then he patted her bottom, scooting her up the last two stairs and into the cabin.
Good thing he did because telling her legs to work—right and then left, repeat—would’ve been a chore. Her fuzzy mind spun, trying to let autopilot take over. His touch seared from her ass and spun out of control to the tips of her fingers and toes.
Somehow, she rounded the corner and slammed into Roman. Great. Autopilot disengaged. He eyed her, doing a quick assessment, then stared at Cash. “You okay, Nicola? You’re looking… sick.”
Sick? Try flush with flippin’ pheromones. So much for her grand plan to act big, bad, and in charge. “I’m good, Roman. You need to chill out.”
Roman’s eyes bounced to Cash. “Everything kosher?”
“Everything’s as you like it.” Cash pushed past both of them, pulled the brim of his hat over his eyes, and sat down next to Rocco.
Nicola saw Bonnie and Clyde cuffed and secured in place. Roman gave her another overprotective glance, then gave a thumbs up to the pilot. They were airborne by the time she got comfortable in her seat. Bonnie’s angry face said she was going to raise all kinds of hell once they got to Langley and figured out this headache. Clyde—AKA David, AKA the butler—was a blank canvas. Anything she tried to read on his bruised expression was a figment of her intel-seeking imagination. The guy gave her nothing. Damn CIA training.
Whatever. If they were both in on it, she was coming up aces. If it was just the butler, then she owed Miss Bonnie a sorry-I-almost-shot-you card and a fruit basket carved up like a flo
wer bouquet. Or maybe just a gift certificate to Guns R Us, because Nicola was sure Rocco wasn’t handing Bonnie her piece back.
The flight to Virginia was fast. They deplaned, jumped into waiting government vehicles and were sped away to Langley. Arriving at CIA headquarters, their group was separated and, she assumed, all waiting to be debriefed. Nicola had to explain the little problem of why she’d gone all berserker on her extraction team. Beth would believe her.
Maybe…
Well, of course she would. Beth was her best friend, the only person she trusted inside Langley and maybe outside as well.
It’s not that Nicola had proof, per se. It was more of a gut feeling, but there were facts that couldn’t be denied. Blank extraction instructions. Gunfire after she jumped the window. The butler saying he didn’t want to kill her. Little things like that.
As interrogation rooms went, this one was standard. Nicola shifted in the uncomfortable chair, wondering how many sets of eyes watched as she sipped a Sprite.
Patience.
She needed a barrel of fortitude. The analysts and behaviorists were always looking for signs of… everything. She needed to send off a vibe of complete professionalism.
The door cracked, and Beth walked in. “Hey, girl.”
“Hey.” Nic smiled, not feeling it, but knowing the watchers in the wall expected it.
“Let’s debrief and go get a drink, though I have a feeling a few beers isn’t going to do it tonight.”
“I’d be okay if we sat in your office with a couple bottles of wine and straws.”
“Nice. Classy plan to match those nice threads you’re wearing.” Beth nodded approvingly at her new BCBG getup.
“Yeah, little shopping trip was required. So it goes. Designer label souvenir, I guess.”
“All right, start from the top. Antilla was shot. Go.”
Nicola recounted everything from that moment until she’d landed ass first in front of Titan’s Range Rover. Beth nodded encouragement, smiled like a supportive handler should, repeated a few things, but didn’t clue Nicola in on her thoughts. Nicola chatted her way right through the adventure until they were wheels down in Virginia, arriving at Langley.
Beth sat back for a minute, then pushed a pad of paper and a pen to her. “Smooth Enterprises. I know it’s earlier than we’d planned to break down the network, but map out the players you know.”
“I don’t know everyone. Antilla was everywhere at once, so it was hard to track who he was with and what they discussed. But I’ll give you what I know.” It took an hour and page after page of notes. Her hand cramped. She knew analysts would study her handwriting, looking for clues, deceptions, and unvoiced revelations. When she was done, Beth took the papers and left. At least she’d been supportive enough to sit there while Nic wrote.
Her Sprite was empty. She spun the aluminum can on its side. The hum of florescent lighting started in on her nerves. How much time had passed since Beth stepped out? An hour? Three? It could’ve been all damn day, for all the sense of passing time that she had.
I wonder what Cash and Roman said. I wonder where they are. The opening door pulled her from that thought tornado. Beth sat down, a tight smile marring her normally expressionless face. Shit, Nic didn’t need to be a facial expression expert to recognize that tension.
“Nicola, there’s nothing to suspect David—”
