Page 9 of Wicked Intention

Finn became more alert as a pair of men entered the restaurant, but they exited in less than a minute, the older of the two complaining bitterly about being asked to leave. As he watched, other customers were turned away.

This wasn’t normal operating procedure for Silva. Sure, he liked to conduct business in cafés, but he’d take a corner of the room, have a buffer zone of open tables around him, and the rest of the restaurant stayed open. This was in the intel reports Finn read, and he’d seen it for himself the past three days as he tailed the man. Something he normally wouldn’t do without a team because it was too easy for a lone man to be spotted, but it was part of his plan.

Per the intelligence reports, Silva had a habit of making people wait, making them sweat, and he didn’t have time for that. But if the arms dealer knew Finn was tracking him, it might irritate him enough to act sooner. It was a risk. Silva could decide to jettison the deal completely if the tail pissed him off enough. Finn hadn’t asked for permission to push. Heknew his captain would tell him to sit tight. If this blew up in his face—

She strolled down the sidewalk casually, as if she didn’t have a destination in mind. Finn knew better. As he followed Silva, he’d noticed his brunette was doing the same thing. She wasn’t a pro—that was obvious, especially since she hadn’t spotted him—but she wasn’t messing up, either. If she tried to enter the closed restaurant, though, the arms dealer and his bodyguards would take note of her. The amount of danger it put her in made him tense. He shouldn’t get involved. He had his own op to worry about.

As he watched, she angled toward the entrance.Fuck.

Finn crossed the cobblestone street, coming up silently behind her. “I wouldn’t do that,” he said as her hand reached for the door handle.

The woman didn’t jump or gasp, but she did lower her arm and turn to face him. “Why not?”

The hard note in her voice impressed him. He knew what he looked like right now, and he scared a lot of people bigger, stronger, and more dangerous than her. Finn glared at her, but she didn’t back down. His interest deepened. He had a thing for strong women.

Her chin came up, and she met his scowl with one of her own.

He was right about her eyes. They were the blue of a Norwegian fjord.

Her face was oval with a sharp, elven chin, there were a handful of freckles on her nose, and a small birthmark on her right cheek. Finn felt heat rise as he thought about kissing her in each of those places.

And he wouldn’t have to bend far. He put her at about five foot ten, only six inches shorter than he was. Finn shifted his attention. Her hair wasn’t as dark as he’d originally believed. Up close, it was a blend of different shades of brown, andthough she had it pulled back in a braid, he remembered it loose, falling past her shoulder blades.

The red on her cheeks deepened. She glared at him, her eyes fierce. “Stop gawking at me.”

Finn shrugged. “Sorry. I’m trying to figure out if you really are stupid or just acting like it.”

Now she gasped, but in anger, not surprise. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Come on, let’s get out of here.” Finn gestured up the street.

“I’m having lunch.”

“Not here, you’re not.”

“You can’t—”

“Listen, sweetheart, Silva has the place closed to everyone else, and if you walk in there, he’ll know without a doubt you’re following him. Now, we need to get the hell away from this door before we catch someone’s attention inside the café.”

After a brief pause, she looked around. “I’ll have lunch over there instead. Happy?”

The restaurant across the street had a large outdoor patio that was more than half full. He’d prefer she not tail Silva at all, but at least she wasn’t a complete idiot, and lunch would give him time to learn what the fuck she was up to. Finn followed her when she headed that direction.

“What are you doing?” she demanded quietly as he walked beside her.

“Joining you for lunch.”

“Oh, no you’re not.” She stopped in her tracks, her hands going to her hips.

“You realize arguing on the sidewalk won’t make us inconspicuous, right?”

Frowning fiercely, she stalked to the other side of the road. “I’m not sharing my table with a mercenary,” she told him. Her voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking her determination.

“Then I’ll sit at the table next to yours. The other dinersmight enjoy listening to me quiz you about your interest in an international arms dealer.” It was a bluff, and Finn wouldn’t be surprised if she guessed it, but he was banking that she wouldn’t call him on it.

“It’s obvious you’re following Silva, too,” she said, and he hid a grin. She was attempting to find leverage she could use against him.

“Yeah, but I don’t care if he knows. You do.”

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