Page 3 of Craved

“What’s he doing in New York?” I ask.

“Research,” Ryan says, without elaboration.

I raise a brow. “So I should start keeping an eye out for house-warming decorations? Or should I say office-warming?” I add with an innocent bat of my lashes.

“This is how rumors spread.”

“And the truth. This is also how the truth is spread.”

He just clears his throat, and I bite back a laugh. Everyone in the office has heard the rumors about a branch opening in New York. I may be the first to have actual, tangible evidence.

Ryan stares me down. “Moving on… We don’t know how close the weapon is to deployment. Not a surprise since we still don’t know what the weapon is.”

“Which means time is of the essence.”

“Exactly. Weapon specs. Timing. Anything you can gather. You know the drill.”

“Get in, get the intel, get out,” I say, understanding that the information I gather will determine when and how the tactical take-down will occur.

“I assume your cover will hold?”

“It will. You’ve seen my police record. I’m a dangerous little bitch.”

He chuckles. “At least half of that record is one-hundred percent true.”

I shrug. He’s not wrong.

“It’s your FBI file that worries me.”

“Really? Why? My record there’s buried deep. I was covert ops then, too. You know that.”

“I do. But Killion Lambert’s got resources.”

I grimace. I’ve never crossed paths with Lambert and no one’s seen a photograph, but just the thought of that man makes my flesh crawl. “You think someone from Stark Security’s feeding him information?” I hate even asking the question.

“No.” Ryan’s response is so firm that I’m certain he’s not just trying to keep me in the dark.

“Then what—oh! You think Lambert’s recruiting from the inside. FBI. CIA. Maybe even the SOC.”

“We do. Which is why your employment file with the FBI has been updated to include a half-dozen more infractions. Serious ones. You’ve been a very bad girl, Cami.”

“But I’m so very good at it,” I say, making him laugh. “Have I been kicked out? Or am I still deep cover with the FBI?”

“Deep cover,” he says. “Currently on leave because of all those infractions.”

“And I don’t appreciate the slap on the hand.”

“You really don’t.”

“I get it. It’s a shame, though,” I add, kicking back in my chair. “This is going to be inconvenient.”

He raises a brow. “What’s that?”

“After you get through smearing my record, how the hell will I ever make employee of the year?”

“Stop Maxim. Dig out where Killion Lambert is holed up. Get us intel on that weapon. Sabotage it if you can. Most of all, don’t get dead.”

“I’ll try to keep that last one in mind.”