Page 13 of Love Undercover
A coded message popped up on the screen from a blocked number, and he knew Gibson was expecting a check-in soon.
He coded in a response and sent it, waiting for the phone call that would shortly follow.
The screen lit up, the phone buzzing in his hand.
“Sir,” Chase said by way of answer.
“Report,” Gibson replied in his usual clipped tone. It wasn’t just his role and this situation that got that kind of concise treatment. The man wasted no words, ever. He barely wasted oxygen.
“There’s been a complication.” Chase’s eyes went to the closed door again, noting that the light had turned off, the crack beneath suddenly dark.
“What kind of complication?” It wasn’t any more a demand than it might’ve been had Chase reported the usual.
“The girlfriend.” He held his breath a moment. “She’s here with me. At my house.”
One beat passed. “Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Unharmed?”
“Yes.”
“She a target?”
“Seemed to be. Zim sent Santiago.”
Another beat passed as Gibson re-calibrated. Zimmerman was on the top of the agency’s list, a player they were still trying to get the goods on. Greg Calloway had been on Chase’s radar as a possibility for nailing Zimmerman, but whatever Calloway had was big if Zim was sending Santiago in.
And since Calloway had put everyone’s focus on Sadie, it meant she might have or know something—even unwittingly. Which made her valuable to all parties. And if that was the case, then Chase figured it was worth a shot to ask.
“Permission to break protocol—“
“Denied, Lundgren,” Gibson interrupted. “You’ve already gone off script by taking her. Until we know the extent of her involvement, she doesn’t get to know squat.”
“Sir—“
“No. Lie low until I give you the all-clear to check in with Zim. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
Gibson clicked off, and Chase shut the phone down, staring at the screen as it went dark.
So he couldn’t explain himself to her. There had to be some other way to convince her to open up and give him information he could use against Calloway. The little things would help—letting her have his bed and leaving the bedroom door unlocked was a start.
It was a matter of time and effort on his part. She’d already seen that this house was just that—not some creepy dungeon where he’d torture and kill her. But other than a very loose association in their youth that he wasn’t even sure she remembered, he was starting from scratch.
So far, the first impression wasn’t in his favor.
5
Man vs. Espadrille
After trying the windows—the effort Sadie put in hadn’t budged them an inch, and she was afraid to try harder since that would cause a racket—she’d crept to the door, listening for movement. Turning off the lights was her effort to make him think she’d gone to bed in hopes that he would let his guard down. Once he was asleep, she would try to escape.
But hearing him talk on the phone, then his footsteps through the living room that sounded like he was pacing, noises from the kitchen—doing who-knew-what. . . all of it stirred a deeper and heavier dismay as time crawled by, and he didn’t settle.
Eventually she got tired of sitting with her back against the door and curled up on top of the blankets of his bed to rest while she waited him out. She grimaced, wishing she had her purse so she could rub some cream into her shoulder muscles that were aching after the long ride in the trunk with bound hands.
