Page 81 of Spies Don’t Fall for Their Best Friend

The pride and terror are competing fairly evenly.

“What were they transporting?” she asks.

“Nothing.”

Her eyebrows pull together. “You were discussing moving something through three jurisdictions.”

My brows rise. “You heard that?”

“I have excellent hearing when people are discussing criminal arrangements within range.”

I take a slow breath. “It was hypothetical. They wanted to know how Maxwell would handle a compromised courier.”

“And the person offering you twice your fee for the client’s name?”

“Also hypothetical.”

She leans back. “So, I accidentally wandered into a criminal job interview. Strange.” She pauses a moment. “The man with the tablet?”

“Another evaluator.”

“The mechanic?”

“I’m not sure. Security, probably.” She goes quiet for a second, and I add, “You were much too close.”

“I was beside the charter office.”

“You were close enough to hear the meeting.”

“I didn’t realize it was a meeting until I was already there.”

“And then you stayed.”

“Only long enough to understand why you were wearing someone else’s nose.”

“That could have put you in danger.”

Her expression sharpens. “I know.” The words come out differently from everything else. Not a joke. Not defensive. She knows.

That does something to me. I nod once. “We’ll have to go over exactly where you stood, where you parked, and what you saw before you leave. Charlie is already checking whether anyone noticed you.”

She nods.

“And you’re not going anywhere near another active operation.”

“I wasn’t planning to make a habit of tracking my purse into international crime.”

“Good.”

“But I’m keeping the AirTag.”

“That’s probably wise.”

Some of the tension leaves her shoulders. She returns to the couch, but instead of sitting, she picks up her notebook and closes it. “I want to see it.”

I straighten. “See what?”

“The CSA.”