Page 52 of Three Steps Behind

“Why not?”

“Because nobody keeps promises.”

“Including you?”

“Deflecting.” She smiled that sly smile. “Well played, Aubry.”

“This isn’t a game.”

“Oh, honey, life is a game. You win, or you lose. Those are the only two options.”

“Wow.”

“Wow what?”

“I’m sorry you were raised to believe that.” It had to be a hopeless way to live.

Something flashed in her eyes, but she shut it down as quick as it’d appeared. “Good night, Agent Man.”

“Good night, Bristol.”

“Get your sleep. My life depends on it.”

The weight of holding someone’s life in his hands jarred him. They were sending her in like a canary in a coal mine, or so the cliché went. Though all clichés started from a nugget of truth, especially that one. They were sending her into a den of darkness.

Twenty

AUBRY CARRIED THE HEART NECKLACE that Dalton had given her draped across his hands, the morning sun streaking across the carpet. Agent Tom Aston joined them today. He would be the backup eyes and ears when Aubry needed extra coverage.

“Okay,” Aubry said, stepping around Bristol.

Pulling up her hair, she ignored—or tried her best to ignore—the shivers streaming down her spine at the touch of his fingers along her neck.

“There you go,” he said, stepping back. “Two of the diamonds are veneers with tiny bugs under them. One is the microphone so we can hear you. The other is a plant. You lift the veneer and pull out the bug inside, then replace the veneer so he doesn’t think you’ve lost a diamond.”

“Smart. He’d definitely notice that. He’s got a keen eye.” Now it made sense why Dalton was always watching everything so closely.

“We’ll be able to pick up anything he says within a certain distance,” Tom said.

“How close?”

“The closer you get it, the better.” Tom grunted. Not the happiest fellow.

“It can pick up things five hundred yards away.” Aubry smiled.

“That’s five football fields.”

“Yep.” Aubry nodded. “But the farther away, the harder it is to discern the sounds.”

Tom pushed off the counter, his shiny brown loafers squeaking. “Closer is better, and put it someplace where he consistently is or on something he wears consistently. Like on his watch.”

“Not the best place.” Aubry shook his head. “Someplace . . .”

She inclined her head. “Like?”

“He wears big belt buckles, right?”

“Yeah. He has a favorite from his rodeo days. Won it down in Cruces. He wears it ninety percent of the time.”