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She arched her brow. “Wagner has never been unkind, Grant.”
“You were just never in reach,” he stated arrogantly. Simply be careful, my dear. I’d hate to see you hurt.”
“Insurance is good for something.” Her lips twitched in amusement.
Grant shrugged. “Just a word of warning.” He turned and moved away from her, his shoulders straight, his head held high.
“Grant’s been buying his drugs from a man associated with a homeland terrorist cell,” John murmured at her side.
Bailey nodded slowly. She knew that, she just wished she didn’t.
“I’ve had enough.” She shook her head. “Get me the hell out of here.”
Immediately he began leading her to the wide double doors that led to the foyer and the staircase. To say she’d had enough was putting it mildly.
They made it back to their room with few interruptions. The flow of champagne in the ballroom was heavy enough that most of the groups that had congregated together were more inclined to stay in one place than seek out other amusements.
Entering the bedroom, she kicked off her heels as John swept the room for listening devices. He found one, stared at it for long moments, then shook his head before crushing it beneath his heel and leaving it lying for housekeeping to clean up.
“That is beginning to get old,” Bailey stated as she unzipped the back of her dress and shimmied out of it.
Laying it across the back of a chair, she moved to the walk-in closet, where she pulled free a pair of loose sweats and a T-shirt.
Re-dressing in the relative privacy of the closet, she tried to push back the weariness that tugged at her. A weariness that seemed to have followed her most of the day. It wasn’t just physical, it was mental. Her adult life had been spent running away from these people, and each day with them now reminded her why.
She felt out of place, out of sync with the men and women she had been raised to consider her family. Cou
ples who considered themselves above her, more intelligent, superior to her simply because she hadn’t spent her life trying to fit in with them.
“When are you meeting with Wagner?” John stepped to the doorway, his gaze brooding, dark. “I don’t like you seeing him alone.”
“Wagner’s harmless.” She sighed. “The information he has could be important.”
“He’s the least dangerous of the entire crowd,” he agreed. “But I’m still not comfortable with it.”
She turned fully to meet him as she pulled a pair of sneakers from a shelf and slipped her feet into them. Bending to tie them, she glanced up at him again, seeing the concern on his face.
“He won’t talk to me if I bring anyone with me,” she told him. “If Wagner has proof against Ford, then it’s something we need to deal with now.”
She made certain to keep their conversation in Ford’s favor, to never speak of the mission unless they were certain of security, and to keep any reference to Warbucks silent.
They had eight days left on this assignment. Eight days to figure out who Warbucks was and prepare for the meeting with him. Eight days to put the past to rest, she thought. Eight days before she lost John, again.
That thought had her pausing as she straightened, staring back at him with the knowledge of how little time they had left together.
How was she supposed to survive this time? she wondered. How was she supposed to sleep at night knowing he was on a mission without her, knowing that another woman could touch, could hold what belonged to her? Knowing that without him, she was alone; that it wouldn’t matter where she lived, because that place would still be unbearable without John.
And she couldn’t cry over it. She couldn’t rage over it. There was nothing she could do to ease the pain burning in her chest.
“It’s going to be okay.” He mouthed the words at her. “Trust me.”
She did trust him, but still, she couldn’t see a way out of this one. Whatever agency had reformed him wouldn’t want her within it. She had been fired from the CIA; she was considered a security risk to any other agency.
“Sure it will,” she mouthed back. An empty platitude.
“I’m going to go talk to Wagner.” She moved to the doorway as he stood in front of her. He didn’t move. He stared at her, his expression brooding as he obviously searched for something in her expression.
“Are you armed?” he finally asked quietly.
