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obviously referring to Mikayla.
He gave Tehya the number slowly.
"Got it. Now are you going to answer me?"
"She may be misplaced for the moment," he gritted out the admission. Tehya snickered. "Well, she just so happens to be at a quaint little coffee shop four buildings down from her shop."
He was going to kill her; it was that damned simple.
"Damn," Tehya breathed out.
"Damn?" The tone of her voice had his hand clenching on the steering wheel.
"What's damn, Tehya?"
"Damn, she's with Bailey and Kira."
Nik blinked. For a second, pure abject male terror seared his insides. Jordan hadn't had time to send the other women; that meant they were being nosy. Nosy and most likely interfering. Those were not good combinations.
"She's what?"
"Currently having coffee with Bailey and Kira. I thought they were in D.C.?" He disconnected and pressed his foot to the gas, risking a speeding ticket. Bailey and Kira with Mikayla? What the hell were they up to? Hadn't he kept his noses out of their relationships with his fellow agents? Hadn't he stood back, supported them where he could, and covered for them when they needed it?
What the hell were they doing?
The phone rang from the seat where he had tossed it.
"What?" he barked.
"You have your backup," Jordan growled.
"No." He was ready to grind his back teeth to dust. "Not those two, because they already have their own agenda here, and it's to interfere in my life. No." He could almost feel Jordan's amusement. "Scared, Nik?"
"Fucking terrified," he snarled. "Do you think they're going to keep her out of trouble? Fuck no. I might as well just keep her with me while I'm questioning lowlifes and dodging bullets."
"That's always an option," Jordan agreed. "I could bring them back to base then." He was going to strangle the phone. Then he was going to strangle Bailey and Kira. When he finished with them, he was going to fuck Mikayla until she was too damned tired to disagree with him.
Son of a bitch.
Bailey and Kira were both CIA brats, Bailey a former agent and Kira a former contract agent. Both were richer than Midas and neither one of them cared in the least about poking her damned nose in someone else's business.
"You did this," Nik accused Jordan furiously. "Admit it. You sicced those two on me before I even called, didn't you, Jordan?"
He wasn't above getting his laughs in wherever he could whenever he thought one of his agents was making what he considered the most dire of mistakes. Falling in love.
"You forget who you're talking to, Renegade." Jordan's tone held far too much self-satisfaction. "I'm the commander, remember?"
"Commander Malone, get fucked!" He hung up on his boss, praying the other man was stupid enough to have him pulled in now. Let Jordan send the entire fucking 133
team after him. Once he got back to base, he was going to show his interfering commander exactly how matchmaking was truly done.
Did he think Nik didn't know his weakness? That the other men weren't well aware of exactly who Jordan couldn't keep his damned eyes off of?
Oh, they knew, and Nik was going to show the bastard the rules of playing matchmaker.
Jordan thought he was throwing roadblocks in Nik's path? That he was going to make things difficult enough that Nik would draw back from Mikayla?
It wasn't going to happen. But when he returned to base, Nik was going to see just how interfering Jordan could become.
