| |
FISH ADJUSTED THE COMPUTER to join the conference with Adam, who was sitting behind the wheel of a car, along with Scrooge. Both men wore satisfied expressions.
“We set?” Adam asked.
“I don’t see Fozzie,” Fish said.
“He’s otherwise occupied,” Adam said.
“Did you find any proof that John Gunther is the Falcon?” Lexi’s impatience was obvious.
Adam smiled, a cross between understanding and indulgence. “We couldn’t come out and ask him. My meeting with him was limited to nothing more than an introduction and a handshake, but I spent quality time with Mr. Bartholomew—call me Bart—the Chief Financial Officer, and he’s anxious to work with us. Amazing how many doors a budget in the upper six-figure range will open.”
Manny interrupted. “On task, please.”
“I was able to ascertain,” Adam said, “a part of Merlin is behind the public view. I mentioned—very discreetly—the need to minimize the financial information provided to Uncle Sam, and Bart assured me their company was well-versed in creating workarounds. Legal ones, he said.”
“He provided this information based on the documentation Blackthorne provided?” Lexi asked. “In other words, he took your word for the budget?” She ducked her head again after the interruption, but Manny seemed to think it was a valid question.
Adam laughed. “Of course not. Thanks to Blackthorne’s expertise in setting up my cover, my make-believe company’s bank accounts are overflowing. The marketing vice president I started with sent me to meet with an advertising director who wooed me with slick video presentations of successful campaigns she’d run. I’m sure that meeting was arranged to keep me busy while they verified the financial information before referring me to Call me Bart.
“Meanwhile, I have a few more shell company names—companies Bart swore could never be traced to Merlin or any of its subsidiaries. He also intimated that should I run into issues due to any less-than-aboveboard workings of my company, they had ways to assist there as well.”
“As in bribing cops?” Lexi asked.
“Per instructions,” Adam said, “we left things very vague for the time being.”
“Will we have eyes or ears in Gunther’s office?” Manny asked.
“Affirmative on both,” Adam said. “Fozzie took care of that before he left.”
“Very well,” Manny said. “You and Mr. Cashman can return to the airport. We’ll see you when you get back.”
“I don’t suppose I can keep the suit.” Adam fingered the lapels.
“It will remain in wardrobe until it’s needed again,” Manny said.
“Was worth a shot,” Adam muttered. His side of the screen went dark.
“Any issues I should be aware of?” Manny asked.
Should Fish mention the other potential breach they’d found?
***
LEXI SENSED MARV WAS struggling with whether or not to say anything to Manny. She jumped in. “We’ve checked the video feeds looking for any holes in the security. We might have found one, but we have nothing to confirm that’s how Iredale got into the garage.”
“Yes, security reported a void in the camera coverage. A wider angle lens should take care of it,” Manny said. “We’ll have it checked out.”
As she’d expected. She’d been doing busy work, nothing to gain Blackthorne’s respect, gratitude, or praise—and most certainly not a hint of a job offer.
Why was she thinking about a job offer? Had she written off the job she had?
“Thanks for keeping me—us—in the loop,” she said.
Manny grunted, then cut the connection.
“I was going to mention the cameras,” Fish said.
“I got the feeling you thought you might be jumping over the guards, so I saved you that conflict. As it turns out, they’d already reported it.”
“You had enough security footage watching?” He had one hand on the mouse.
“Definitely. Emi didn’t say anything about the shadow under Jordan’s truck.”
Marv shook his head. “I think she has enough on her plate, although I wouldn’t be surprised if the word got back to the guys in the security office here to keep an eye out in the future.”
“You’re right. So now that we’ve finished that diversion, what do you want to do? Work out? Shoot?”
Or something else?
Frustrated by her mounting feelings demanding attention, she swiveled her chair and faced Marv. Saw the heat in his eyes.
“You know, sometimes you do what needs to be done no matter if it skirts the rules,” she said.
“You’re not talking about going after the Falcon, are you?” Marv reached out with a forefinger, stroked the top of her hand from wrist to thumb. A shiver rippled along her spine.
“That would be more than skirting,” she said. “I had something ... a little less dangerous in mind.”
“You mean something like this?” He turned her hand face up, traced around each finger as if he were creating a kindergarten art project, then drew a spiraling circle in her palm. When he reached the center, he brought the fingers of his other hand to his mouth, kissed them, then brushed them across her palm. He let them linger for a second or two before letting go and folding her fingers, sealing in his touch.
“Um...yes,” was all she could say, and those words were a hoarse whisper.
Marv’s finger moved from her hand to her jaw, traced a line from ear to chin.
She closed her eyes. Tilted her head enough to let him know she wanted more.
His finger moved from chin to her lower lip, outlined her mouth. A high-voltage shock coursed through her. From a simple touch. His fingertips.
“I want you, Marv,” she whispered. “Right or wrong, principal or protectee, I want you. Now. While things are calm. When I can’t blame it on an adrenaline high, or to prove I’m alive. I know Blackthorne has rules, so I won’t be hurt if you say no.”
She scooted out of her chair, and without a backward glance, strolled from the room.
He’ll either follow or he won’t.
She told herself she would accept his decision. When he wasn’t right behind her, she tried to stifle her disappointment. Technically, she was doing no wrong, but she didn’t want to put Marv in a position where he’d have to choose between his job and her.
Lexi left her bedroom door ajar. She toed off her shoes and made herself comfortable on the bed instead of the chair, telling herself it was because the view of the television set was better. She wasn’t going to do anything totally obvious, like change into a nightgown—not that the knee-length cotton sleep shirt she’d brought remotely resembled anything seductive.
She wasn’t going to brush her teeth. Or use the mouthwash provided in the bathroom. She was simply relaxing, passing the time watching television.
Be honest. You were this close to jumping his bones in the command center, and all he did was touch you with a fingertip. On the hand.
She opened her palm where he’d touched her. He hadn’t kissed it, merely transferred a touch of his lips. Then folded it closed, as if he were wrapping a gift.
Heat rushed to her core. Her nipples strained against her bra.
The door opened.
She forced herself not to look his way. Not let him see the smile she couldn’t keep from spreading over her face.
Marv entered, closed the door behind him. He didn’t speak. He crossed to the bed, removed his shoes, setting them alongside hers on the floor. Took the remote from her hand, turned off the television. Set the remote on the night table. Sat beside her, legs extended, feet crossed, mirroring her position.
They sat there, in silence, for what felt like three lifetimes. His foot inched closer to hers. She forced herself not to move. He was the one taking the risk. Although, wasn’t she? Just not a professional one.
With toes touching, he reached for her hands. She’d folded them in her lap, but he nudged them apart, dovetailed his fingers with hers.
If he hadn’t turned the set off, she could imagine they were two friends watching television, letting an afternoon drift away.
His thumb drew lazy circles around hers, each pass sending another wave of electricity through her. He released her hand, caressed her arm, shoulder to fingertips, back and forth.
Then the back of her neck. She grabbed her hair, moved it over her shoulder, giving him access. Long-dormant parts of her thrummed with desire.
He leaned in, nuzzled her neck. Nibbled her earlobe.
She exhaled a shaky breath.
“You okay with this?” he whispered, his breath fanning her cheek.
She’d told him this was what she wanted—needed—but he still offered her the chance to back out.
She reached for his belt buckle.