Page 83 of Three Steps Behind

Aubry rubbed his chin. “Yeah.”

“Well, I got to thinking tonight, during our dessert in the office . . . What if Miquel holds a bigger stake in all this?”

“Such as?”

“I don’t know. I just get the strong feeling Dalton trusts him with everything, so maybe he’s one to watch.”

“So dig deeper into Miquel?”

“I would.”

Aubry paced again, his brow furrowed. “Combining his role as manager and his connection to the women . . .” He continued talking more to himself than to her. “Knowing where they’re being kept, and it sounds like moving them around . . . He could run the inner workings of Dalton’s empire well.”

She cocked her head. “Do you always think out loud?”

A half smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Not always.”

He sat down, popped the top of the grape Fresca he’d grabbed from the fridge, and took a sip. “We haven’t paid much attention to Miquel or dug below the surface with him yet. Good suggestion. He may be the key to unlocking Dalton’s operation. You never know.”

“Right.” She smiled at his trusting her enough to take her suggestion. “Let me know what you find. There’s definitely more going on with Miquel than I’m privy to. Whenever I bring him up, Dalton diverts the subject.”

“Interesting.” Aubry took another swig of soda.

“Look,” she said, leaning forward. “I’m in this, and the fact is you need me, so I expect to be kept in the loop, not just be bait on the line.”

He rested his soda on his thigh and studied her a moment. Really studied her. “Fair enough. I’ll tell you what’s pertinent.”

“And who decides what’s pertinent?” she asked, hand on her hip.

“I will.”

Now she really studied him. “How about we make a deal?”

He exhaled. “Why don’t I like the sound of that?”

Thirty-Three

BRISTOL STRAIGHTENED in the hard chair Aubry had given her from the two-person table in his apartment. “The deal is,” she continued, “you keep me fully in the loop, and I comply with your requests. Unless it’s being intimate. I draw the line there.”

His cheeks flushed, and she smiled. She’d made Agent Man uncomfortable. It was about time after the surrounding vacuum of discomfort she’d been in since the day he’d put her in prison.

“I . . .” He coughed. “Absolutely wouldn’t expect you to go there.”

“And your boss, Baxter?”

“I’ll handle Baxter on that, but we need to come up with a plan.”

“A plan for?”

“Why you won’t be intimate. We don’t want to tip him off, so if we can come up with something . . .”

“Girly.” She smiled. “You bring up girly reasons and guys back way off.”

“Okay,” he said before taking another sip of soda. “Pick your female issue.”

“Will do.” She stretched her arms, shaking the lingering tension of Dalton and his creep, Miquel, out of them. She kinked her neck side to side, then rubbed the back of it, easing her taut muscles. Might as well get comfortable. She had no plans to dart out. Instead, she asked the burning question on her mind. “Now, tell me about you?” She draped her arm across the back of the chair.

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Excuse me?”