Page 12 of Baby One Last Time
His jaw tightened and his nostrils flared. He still wasn’t looking at me, but he wasn’t trying to hide his fury, either. “I never lied to you, Cynthia.”
Except he was doing it right now. And come to think of it, he’d been bullshitting me all day. Not on the surface. Not about the mission or coming back to HEAT. Maybe not even about wanting me to trust him. But he was hiding something. Given our career choices, past indiscretions, and his transition from hot and bothered at the hotel to ice water in his veins ever since, it was probably bad fucking news.
“If I had to guess, I’d say she’s heard less-than-stellar reviews of my past work,” I said. “I’ll have to win her over. Hey, do you think a down-and-dirty fuck in a hotel penthouse would do the trick? It worked with you.”
He grabbed my arm and whirled me around to face him. “Don’t talk about us that way.” This time, he made no attempt to cover his rage.
Some self-preserving part of me recoiled. Minimizing what we’d had, what we’d been to each other, was a hot button of his. That’s why I’d pushed it. The reckless part of me wanted this, needed his passion, even it was dark and dangerous.
He studied me, then released my arm and stepped back to put space between us. The Derek from the hotel room and my apartment and the past minute receded. A mask of calm slipped over his face. The deep chill returned.
I shouldered my duffel bags and stalked away from him, willing myself not to run. Or to burn my hard-earned, bad-ass reputation by bursting into tears. I was in a tough world. As egalitarian as X made it, the landscape here had been shaped by men. The only acceptable emotion was anger. I’d channel everything I stupidly still felt for Derek Wilder into rage. But unlike the past times I’d played with literal and figurative fire, this time I wouldn’t be careless.
I was slightlywinded when I reached the third floor, but running three flights of stairs with my bags worked off some of my furious energy. Luckily, none of my teammates were in the hallway to catch me panting. I found my name on a metal nameplate on the second door to the right. Mai Lee’s name was on the room directly across from mine. Because we were crewmates. Because we were supposed to trust each other, to put our lives on the line for each other. Yeah, that had worked out so well for me thus far in my career.
I opened the door and dropped my bags onto the hardwood floor just inside my suite. It was a reasonably spacious studio with a small kitchenette and distinctly defined areas for living and sleeping. There was a thick, white shag rug under the bed and a zebra-striped one between the sofa and chairs of the sitting area. Sleek, mid-century modern furniture. A wide bank of windows at the back looking out over a park in one of the prettier areas of this fucking city.
I sighed and sank into the comfortable sofa. A year ago, I’d spent six weeks here in training. Six weeks out of twenty-eight years of life, but this place felt like home.
One thing about home, it always had the best snacks. It was a nice little perk, a thank you for putting our asses on the line for the job, that the company kept track of what we liked and stocked our rooms at HEAT buildings and hotels with our favorites. Which meant somewhere in the kitchenette there was a bag of chocolate-covered popcorn waiting for me to tear into it.
On the small granite countertop that jutted out between the living and kitchen space, there was a case of water and bag of Andean coffee, but there were no snacks. I found the popcorn in the second cupboard I opened. Bag in hand, I trotted to my backpack and pulled out my travel water mug. Unfortunately, there was no filtered water dispenser in the fridge, and the tap water smelled like a swimming pool. Dammit. I’d given up bottled water months ago. I’d have to ask TJ to order a filter pitcher for me, but in the meantime, it was back to the planet-killing option. As I pulled out a water, another bottle, tucked against the backsplash and half-hidden by the coffee maker, caught my eye.
My heart stopped. When it started again, it pounded so hard, it hurt my chest wall. Macallan Rare Cask Whiskey. Derek’s go-to. The first drink—well, first of several—he’d bought me on the night we’d met. The Macallan could only have come from him, a secret message from him to me. And here I was without my Derek-decoder ring.
Was the ease with which he’d left me four months ago his true nature? Our separation had focused him, while it had wrecked me. He’d earned a big promotion, and I’d acquired a bad reputation. He’d led his teams to success, while I’d dragged mine into hell.
But what if that was his best con of all? Hadn’t I misread him the night I’d met him, missing the signs that he was setting me up as part of his job? Something about my feelings for him—feelings I was not willing to name, thank you very much—screwed with my otherwise impeccable human radar. What if the near-seduction at the hotel and his passionate response to me baiting him were the real deal?
A thrill chased down my spine.
Derek Wilder was my Achilles heel, and if the hella expensive bottle of whiskey in my hand meant what I thought it did, I was his. So why didn’t he come to find me after I’d been fired by X? With me out of HEAT, we could have picked up where we’d left off. And if he wanted me as much as I wanted him, what did he intend to do about it now? I was off-limits again, becausehehad brought me in from the cold.
Chapter 4
By 1755 hours,which was mission-speak for 5:55 p.m., the team had gathered around the meeting table. It was another unwritten rule in HEAT that meeting times were not suggestions, they were edicts from the gods. Show up early, pick a good seat, and focus on the task at hand before your team lead starts talking.
Sparks and Penn joined the party. They shook hands with Derek, having worked with him in the past, then introduced themselves to the rest of us before taking seats beside each other at the table. Alder and Jensen did the same. Bond sat between Alder and me. Mai made a point of taking a seat opposite me and two seats down, turning her chair to face the front of the room. Her body language screamedI am on your crew under duress.
I’d been back on the job for a few hours, and already I had a problem.
Derek leaned beside an unused smart board on the wall to my right. It gave him a perfect view of the entire team, but he took no pains to hide that he was staring at me.
Correction. Two problems.
Hell, maybe I had a whole barrel full of problems, but I wasn’t smart enough to know it yet.
TJ entered the multi-purpose room from the hallway of offices to the right and took his position between the team and the large-screen TV mounted at the front of the meeting space. He surveyed our seating arrangements and gave me a pointed glare. I gave him my best wide-eyed innocent look, which got me about as far as you’d expect. But he could scowl at me all he wanted. Mai’s bad attitude was not my fault.
“Welcome, Reindeer Team,” TJ said.
“No,” I said. “You’re not going to call us that.”
“You know I don’t assign the names for the teams or the missions, Kessler.” He grinned. “So let’s talk about Operation Peace and Resist.”
Everyone groaned. Each mission had a code name, and if it was a multi-phase operation, each phase had a code name as well. No one knew who assigned the monikers, though there was lots of speculation they were handed down from the government intelligence agencies who contracted with HEAT. But I suspected X. The woman had a weird sense of humor and this struck me as the kind of thing that would amuse her.
TJ picked up a remote-control clicker and snapped a computer to life, which projected a presentation titled “Operation P&R” onto the screen in front of us. “Over the next two weeks, we’re going to take down a dirty arms dealer and the laundromat that’s been cleaning his money.”
