"What's in this?" Riley made another face that looked like he was being tortured with a dirty spork.
I swallowed a mouthful of ravioli. "What? It's a salad. I thought you liked salad."
He picked around the plate with his fork. "Are those rutabagas? And radishes?" He looked up at me. "Are you trying to kill me?"
"No. Why? Is it working?" I asked.
"It's bitter and super spicy." He speared a red pepper. "And the dressing makes it worse."
I shrugged. "I thought that's what you wanted?" I dumped a bunch of processed cheese on top of my pasta and kept eating.
Riley put his fork down and slid the plate away. I couldn't help but notice him eyeing my food as his stomach rumbled.
"Just so you know, the local police are turning the Lenny case over to us. They don't want to work with the Feds on this," Riley said.
"So the agency is handling everything? Well that's good news." Now we controlled the story and access. "Have you talked to the prison yet?"
"I was getting to that." Riley gave me a look. Uh-oh. "Lenny had a visitor last week. Want to take a guess at who it was?"
"Not really." I answered, swallowing a lump of ravioli that had lodged in my throat.
"Merrygold Wrath," Riley said. "He had one visitor named Merrygold Wrath."
"Well, obviously, it wasn't me," I said. "I was here all last week. I'm here every week. Last trip I had out of town was with you to Chicago to dump Midori's body."
Riley's lips became a tight line. "About that…"
"They found her?" I wasn't too surprised. It was only a matter of time before the body turned up. Three months seemed right. We'd hidden the dead Yakuza leader in the woods behind the Dumpster at an Asian food market. Her appearance, dead in my kitchen, was the only loose end we hadn't wrapped up from the last adventure.
He nodded. "They aren't looking at us. They think someone in organized crime in Chicago did it. We're off the radar."
I relaxed a little. "Which still doesn't explain what she was doing here."
"At this point," Riley said, "I don't care about that. What I do care about is how an inept, former spy escaped from a supermax prison and ended up at the home of a former agent of ours, who lives deep undercover, and who visited him using her cover name last week."
"I didn't visit him." I was starting to get mad. "You don't believe me?" I'd once been attracted to Riley. But his lack of trust was tarnishing that appeal somewhat.
"I believe you," he said with a sigh. "They're sending me the video footage of your visit. That should prove it isn't you." He gave me a look that said, It had better prove it wasn't you. "But I'm worried that we need to relocate you to another place with another persona."
I shook my head. "No way. I bleached my hair, changed my name, and am wearing different-colored contact lenses. I'm not going through that again. Besides, I have a life I like here." And I did. Kelly, my best friend, lived here. I also had my Girl Scouts and my boyfriend, Rex.
"I can't make you," Riley said. "You don't work for the CIA anymore. But I think you should consider it. It may not be safe here anymore." He sounded a little concerned for me. That softened me up more than I'd have liked it to.
"That's right. I don't work for the agency anymore. I'm staying here."
Riley looked at me for a moment, with a glimmer of defeat in his eyes. "Okay, but you have to keep me apprised on everything. I'm going to run background checks on everyone from that woman who was just here to Dr. Rye."
"The veterinarian? Are you kidding?" I choked on my drink. "I think it's safe to say he's harmless. Although I don't mind you dealing with the Council's dragon lady."
"Anyone you come into contact with—I want to know about," Riley said firmly. Apparently, he wasn't taking no for an answer.
I remembered something. "Bobb!" Philby jumped up on the counter and began hissing at me.
"Bob? Who's Bob?" Riley asked, his eyes on the cat, who hissed again at the name's mention. Twice. And on the second Bob, spit flew. I kind of hoped it was acid spit that would dissolve the counter top. Sadly, it didn't.
"With three Bs." I nodded. Philby did nothing. He didn't even try to spit acid. Lazy cat.
Riley turned wide eyes on me. "Did you say 'Bob with three Bs'?" Philby hissed again, this time with no spit. He was probably running dry.
I nodded. "Showed up in my backyard just before you got back. He said he was a neighbor, but I've never seen him before. He also knew my name and seemed to be looking for something."
Philby eyed us warily as if waiting for us to say the name again. I didn't, because quite frankly, the cat looked exhausted from all that exertion. I should probably put him on a diet. Maybe he'd eat Riley's salad?
"And you went out there and confronted him?" Riley looked pissed. "Dammit, Wrath! You can't go anywhere unarmed from here on out!"
"I was armed," I snapped. "And I'm not an idiot! I stayed out of reach." How dare he not trust me! Why did he put me alone in such dangerous circumstances all those years?
"What, you took a knife from the kitchen?" Riley's curiosity bested him.
"Sort of…" I answered, starting to regret bringing it up. "I had a carrot."
"A carrot? Like the vegetable?" Riley's eyes grew wide.
I tilted my chin in defiance. "It was a very pointy carrot."
Riley threw up his hands in defeat. There was something he wasn't telling me.
"You know him. You know Bobb," I challenged.
Philby hissed so hard he fell over on his side. He looked like a giant, furry tick, wriggling on his side in an attempt to get to his useless feet. I reached over and helped the panting cat. He shot me a look and jumped down off the breakfast bar.
"Yes," Riley nodded. "I know him." He pulled out his cell and dialed.
"Who is he?" I asked.
My former boss covered the phone with his hand. "He's an assassin. And not on our side."