CHAPTER FORTY
Tea leaves flavored the air and Gloria seethed. Her expensive heels clacked on the marble floor as she clenched her teeth. Pacing between Richard and one of his guys, Deacon, did no good, and she didn’t know what to do, because Richard never failed.
Finally, she stabbed her heel into the tile as she stopped in front of Richard. He was the better choice as the other man didn’tseem to care what she thought, irritating her further. Gloria jabbed her finger into Richard’s chest. “Find the little twit.”
He raised his hands. “That’s it: a little twit. She’s nothing.”
“She’s not nothing.” Gloria pointed her thumb at Deacon. “This guy,your guy, says so.”
“And this guy knows what you need to know.” Deacon confidently stroked his goatee.
“Mr. Lanes, what do you think weshould do about this young lady?”
“Before or after I talk with her,” he asked.
“Your contract is contingent on learning what she knows,” Richard added.
Deacon pivoted on his heel forty-five degrees. “You think I don’t know what I agreed to?”
Gloria cleared her voice. “I’ve taken my time to learn more about you, Mr. Lanes, and I admire your loyalty to the highest bidder—”
“Actually, I’m loyalto myself,” Deacon corrected her.
“All that being equal, does she disappear? Set up her biker friends?”
“When did you get this involved in the details?” Richard asked.
“Probably since you proved yourself a shitty shot.” Deacon crossed his arms. “But what do I know?”
“Enough,” Gloria snapped. Richard never gave her problems, and this was turning into a bigger dick contest. She’d never questionedhis judgement before, but now… maybe he was too close to her?
“I want to know who gave up my name and number before you take care of her.” Her eyes narrowed. “Are we clear?”
“Crystal.”
“Who the fuck says that?” Deacon grumbled.
Gloria waved them away, and Richard would have to know how furious she was once they were alone. But for now, she’d keep up appearances in case they needed to usethis black-ops concierge person again. “Oh, one more thing,” she tacked on. “Why don’t you two play nice and work together for once?”
Deacon’s flat smile was an unsaid no.
“That’s more of an order than a request,” Gloria qualified.
“I work better alone,” Deacon added. “With people who stick to the plan.”
Richard opened his mouth to defend his attempt at shooting the man and Deacon had qualifiedas her threat’s bodyguard but thought better of it. Maybe he was worried she’d shove a cyanide pill down his throat when he slept at night. There wasn’t a procedure for screw ups like this, and she and Richard both knew Gloria might as well treat losing their target, her source of information, as an offense as grave as capture.
Then again, she was supposed to share her life with him. Feelingsand emotions were such headaches.
“And,” Richard snapped. “I work better without a CIA-know-it-all ghost—”
“When it’s your reputation—” She glared. “I’ll care what else you have to say.”
They turned, and she’d had quite enough, ringing a delicate bell on the edge of her desk for her tea service to ease her fraying nerves.