Page 10 of Dead Drift

“I’ve seen pictures of his work. I can’t decide which is my favorite, the fish house or the cool park.”

“Casa Batlló is cool and totally does look like a fish, but Park Güell is amazing.” He’d spent a lot of time relaxing there on his leaves, rare as they had been.

She stared at him the way she used to when they’d chatted like this before he’d abandoned her. He leaned closer, his fingers caressing hers. She leaned in, then quickly yanked her hand away. “I better get to bed.”

“Right,” he said, straightening and clearing his throat. “Night.”

“Night.” She looked back one last time before shutting her bedroom door at the end of the short hall.

Cyrus entered Ebeid’s study, surprised to find him still awake at this late hour. “I followed Agent Grey like you asked, and you’ll never believe who showed up,” Cyrus said, leaving out the fact that he’d acted on his own and tried to kill the man, and failed. If he ’fessed up now, he’d be the dead one. Besides, he was about to rectify that situation posthaste and get on Ebeid’s good side with the intel he had to share. By the time Ebeid learned of the botched hit at CCI, it wouldn’t matter because Garrett Beck and Kate Maxwell would be dead.

“I’m hardly a fan of guessing games. Get to it, Cyrus.”

“Garrett Beck.” The CIA black ops agent known most often as Garrett Beck had been a chigger under Ebeid’s skin for almost eight years.

Ebeid lurched forward. “Here in Baltimore?”

“Yes, and you’re never going to believe where I followed him to.”

“What did I just say about guessing games?”

“The boat the Shaw woman was staying on with Kate Maxwell.”

Ebeid straightened, stiffened. “What?” His dark eyes narrowed. “Are you certain?”

“Positive.”

“So she has ties not only to Grey’s investigation and to Tanner Shaw, but also to Garrett Beck?”

Cyrus nodded, pleased at his boss’s half smile.

“You know what to do.”

Kate rolled over, unable to sleep. The time with Luke at the counter had stirred intense feelings. The stark reality was that she was falling in love with the man he’d become, and not just the boy she’d known. Disconcerting didn’t come close. Shaking her head, she sat up. She’d bolted so quickly before anything deeper could begin that she’d neglected to get ready for bed—hadn’t even washed her face or brushed her teeth.

It would only take a couple of minutes and would make her feel far more comfortable.

Cold from the hardwood floor seeped through her fuzzy socks as she opened her bedroom door. Getting a glimpse of Luke, she forgot to breathe.

He hung in the doorframe of her bathroom, doing chin-ups, his fingertips braced on the edge of the frame. His back contracted, his muscles flexing, his sinewy arms rippling with each pull and release.

He glanced over his shoulder at her, perspiration slipping down the center of his back as a heated ripple cascaded through her limbs.

“Sorry,” he said, hopping down and planting his bare feet on the floor. “Did I wake you?”

“Nuh-uh.” Nuh-uh? What was she, some star-struck teenager who’d just met Tyson Ritter? She smoothed her tousled hair. “I forgot to brush my teeth.”

“Oh.” He grabbed a hand towel to wipe his face.

She swallowed, his sculpted abs even more impressive than his back. “You couldn’t sleep?” she said, barely managing a coherent sentence.

“Nah, like I said, I don’t need much sleep.”

“That must get exhausting.” She stepped around him in the tight quarters, trying not to stare. Focus on his eyes. No, don’t do that. His eyes always melted you.

“Comes with the job, I’m afraid.” He shrugged, his muscles again flexing with the motion.

Her lanky college boyfriend was now a beautifully sculpted man who could rival Michelangelo’s David.