Page 22 of Kiss Me if You Can
Honestly, I’m more confused than ever knowing Frank Hadley is behind bars. I’m not sure how they caught him when our setup clearly failed, and I don’t want to risk digging further when I could compromise Isla’s phone. According to the limited information I’ve found, he was caught this morning.Hours ago.
Where does that leave me?
News sites are still pushing the APB to find me, and they’re saying Hadley still has unknown associates on the loose. Do they think I’m one of them? That I tipped Hadley off about the trap to try to…what? What in the world could I have had to gain by leaking an FBI operation and making it moot?
“Isn’t that right, sweetie?” Isla says, wrapping her arm through mine.
I plaster on a smile, though I have no idea where the conversation was. “Absolutely?” It comes out to be more of a question than I’d like. I clear my throat. “Sorry, work took my attention for a bit there.”
“Everything good?” Isla asks at the same time Biff says, “What keeps you busy, McFly?”
I have to try so hard not to laugh at the name. I shouldn’t have used it, but by some miracle no one seems to have made the connection except maybe Rhys, who fights his own smile despite being focused on his phone. It wouldn’t be so funny if Biff didn’t fit his namesake so well. The antagonist in Back to the Future is a lot dumber than the real-life Biff, but they look and sound so similar that I couldn’t help myself.
“I do some web design,” I tell him.
Isla suddenly grows tense beside me, pulling my full attention to her. She’s taken her phone back—or maybe I handed it to her—and her eyes are fixed on the multiple texts and missed calls she must have gotten while I was digging. I turned her phone to the ‘do not disturb’ setting, something I probably shouldn’t have done.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
Isla doesn’t get a chance to answer because Biff groans loudly, looking at his watch. “Dang it, I lost track of time. I’ve got a commercial shoot to get to, so I’ll make this quick. Matisse, Adams, I’m starting up a nonprofit to help impoverished women gain autonomy and independence, and I’m thinking your collaboration is exactly what I need to get things off the ground.”
The whole vibe of the table shifts, both Emily and Isla gaping at the man. Even Rhys has looked up, his eyebrows high. I’m tempted to steal Isla’s phone back so I can figure out what sort of scandal he’s trying to cover up by pretending to be some great humanitarian.
Isla speaks first. “You’re…what?”
Biff laughs as if he knows exactly how ridiculous he sounds right now. “I know, I know. Not my usual MO. But I was raised by a single mother who worked herself to the bone trying to keep a roof over our heads because she was never given a chance to get a better job. And I know it’s way worse in other parts of the world. Matisse, you’re heading to Uganda tomorrow, right?”
Emily stutters through her response. “Yes, I have some contacts over there we’re wanting to work with. Trying to create some jobs.”
Biff turns to Isla, who is completely motionless. “And your biggest selling point of your platform is keeping costs as low as possible so anyone can purchase high quality products.” He’s not asking. He’s stating. “The way I see it, we can all benefit each other here. I have a ground zero for starting my program, Matisse has jobs she can promise, and you, Isla, have a workforce of entry-level employees who can learn useful skills they can take to better jobs in the future.”
I’m as stunned as the rest of the table—Isla looks like she’s turned to stone, though I can already tell she’s considering the idea—but I don’t get a chance to find out how the ladies are going to respond. A niggling feeling in my belly pulls my attention to the lobby right as Agent Fields steps inside and heads for the hostess.
Crap.
“Bathroom,” I choke and slip out of my seat, even though I feel sick about the idea of leaving Isla behind. I can’t let her be seen with me. I move as quickly as I can without drawing attention to myself, grateful that our table is close to the kitchens so I don’t have to go far. Though I lose my vest and tie the instant I’m out of sight of the lobby, it’s not going to be enough of a disguise.
It’s not quite four, which means the restaurant is slow enough that I don’t pass any staff until I hit the breakroom, where a single employee snoozes in a hard plastic chair. Magnetic name tags hang on one wall next to a bunch of black aprons. I grab one of each, donning both before heading right back out and pausing at the edge of the hallway, just before the dining area. Do I dare look?
Yes. I need to know if Fields is here for me or if this is a crazy coincidence. How did he find me?
Poking my head around the corner, I check on Isla first. Biff is gone, and Isla and Emily are deep in discussion. Emily looks thrilled, but Isla keeps glancing toward the bathrooms. After a moment, she catches sight of me by the kitchen and frowns as soon as we make eye contact.
I grimace, wishing I had a way to explain everything from here, and then I search the room for Fields.
He’s talking to the hostess and showing her something on his phone, though she seems more confused than concerned. I’m not stupid enough to think a fancy hairdo and a name tag that reads “Sean” is going to fool an FBI agent, but I am still tempted to get closer and try to overhear what he’s saying. Is he looking for me? Or is he trying to decide what takeout to get for the other agents?
“Jake!”
I jump when I realize Isla is only a foot away from me, and I grab her arm before she pulls any attention our way. But I tug too hard, making her stumble, and she slips into my arms as her crutches crash at our feet. Momentum pulls us backward, spinning us until she’s against the wall and caged in by my arms as I catch myself.
Her breath leaves her lungs on impact, though I don’t think she hit the wall hard. “Sorry,” I say as my heart pounds in my chest. I can barely breathe, though Fields is not entirely to blame for that. I hadn’t planned on being trapped in a dark corridor with Isla like this.
She swallows. “Who is that out there?”
I shouldn’t tell her. I should keep her out of this so she doesn’t wind up in more trouble than I’m worth. But she’s gazing at me with those big blue eyes of hers, and my mouth doesn’t listen to my orders to stay shut.
“Agent Fields. He’s the field agent that shot at me.”
