Wicked Intentions

11

He smiles and slings his arm over the back of Tabby’s chair. “Just got a bonus from Karpov. A big one. And that’s thanks to you, brother. That job would never have gone so well if it weren’t for you. I think the guy wants to put you in his will or something. He wouldn’t shut up about how you saved his daughter’s life.”

I chuckle. “Well, you never know when you might need a favor from a Russian oligarch. His gratitude could come in handy someday.”

Beside me, Angeline falls still. Her gaze cuts from Connor to me. “You two work together?”

“Yep. This big ape recruited me straight outta the corps into his security firm. I thought we talked about that.”

“No, we didn’t. You said you knew each other in the military, and then we all started talking about the wedding.”

I think for a minute. “Oh yeah.” I shrug. “Anyway, we work together. Tabby helps, too.”

Angeline turns to Tabby with a new look on her face, one of wariness, as if she’s seeing her for the first time. “Oh?”

Tabby leans back into Connor’s arm and smiles at him. “Technically I work for the government, but these bozos need a little assistance from time to time.”

Angeline says tightly, “Assistance?”

Tabby looks back at Angeline and says what she always says when someone asks what she does, with the same flat, no more questions delivery. “I’m in computers.”

It’s like a wall comes down over Angeline’s face. Her smile vanishes. The light goes out in her eyes. She says tonelessly, “You’re a hacker.”

That almost jolts me out of my seat. How the f**k did she put that together? Connor and I glance sharply at each other. Tabby merely smiles.

“I prefer the term social engineer.”

Angeline carefully sets her spoon on the edge of her dessert plate. “How interesting. I’ve been thinking about writing a book about hackers, actually. Which branch of the government do you work for?”

Tabby’s way too smart not to notice the sudden change of vibe from Angeline, but she’s also too smart to let that show. She says brightly, “Well, I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you!” Then she laughs.

Angeline stifles the small tremor in her right hand by sliding it into her lap and curling it into a fist. “And you, Darcy? Do you work for the government, too?”

Darcy snorts. “Girlfriend, I couldn’t work for Uncle Sam even if I wanted to. I’ve got waaay too many skeletons in my closet. It’s like a damn boneyard in there. Nope, I’m a food blogger. And me and my baby, here”—she tenderly kisses Kai’s temple—“just published our first cookbook!”

Angeline’s smile looks like someone is holding a gun to her head and ordering her to act normal on pain of death. “That’s wonderful. So you’re writers, too.”

Kai politely belches behind his hand. “I’m a chef. Darcy does the writing. She’s the one with all the talent.”

Darcy pets his golf hat like he’s her favorite Chihuahua she dressed up and brought to dinner. “Aww, baby, that’s so sweet! But without your recipes, there would’ve been no cookbook. You’re the talent. I just transcribe your genius onto paper.”

Kai is incandescent with pride. Meanwhile, I’m too focused on every nuance of Angeline’s reaction to this conversation to pay much attention to anything else.

She’s pretty good at concealing her emotions, but I’m better at reading people. And right now, the thing she most wants to do is bolt.

I reach out and give her clenched fist a squeeze. Instantly, it loosens. She threads her fingers through mine and sends me a small smile.

I lean over and murmur, “You ready to go?”

“Yes.” She gazes gratefully at me, like she’s surrounded by highway bandits and I’ve just charged in on my white steed, brandishing a sword.

“Well, kids, this has been fun,” I say, addressing the group. “Sayonara.”

I stand, pull a wad of cash from my wallet, throw it on the table, grab Angeline’s hand, and pull her to her feet.

“Guess we’ll say our goodbyes in the morning!” Connor calls out after us as I stride away from the table without a backward glance. The sound of everyone’s laughter fades quickly as I lead the way through the lobby, Angeline by my side.

When we get to the elevator bank, I stab my finger on the call button. Beside me, Angeline is silent and tense. The doors open, we get in, and the doors shut behind us. As soon as we’re in motion, I turn and press the emergency stop button. The elevator jolts to a halt.

Angeline lets out a little yip of surprise and grabs the handrail for balance. Then she flattens herself against the wall as I advance. Her eyes widen. When we’re chest to chest, toe to toe, I say, “Let’s play a game, Angel. It’s called Truth or Dare.”

She swallows.

I say, “I’ll go first. I choose Truth. Ask me anything you want, and I’ll answer it truthfully.”

Angeline silently searches my face for a moment. I wonder what she sees.

In a husky whisper, she asks, “Can I trust you?”

“Now that’s an interesting question.” I brush my fingertips across her jaw, slide my hand into her hair, and cup the back of her neck. “I could ask you the same thing. But since it’s my turn, I’ll honor the rules of the game and give you an answer.” I lean in and softly press my lips to hers. Against her mouth, I say, “It depends.”

An alarm buzzes. We ignore it.

“Depends on what?”

“How you define trust.”