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Chapter Three
Aziza
“Princess,” I muttered, still feeling as tripped-up, blindsided, and confused as I had over a month ago. I shook my head to clear it. Thinking, believing, that anything Coop had ever said to me had been more than playful teasing did me no favors.
I forced my attention back to the war room and caught Wolfe grinning at me. “What?”
His smirk deepened. “Did you just call me a princess?”
Dear Lord!I had to get my head in the game. Insanity had stolen my focus for too long.
“Pre-steps. Sorry, was thinking aloud. Go ahead and take a seat.”
Wolfe shifted from one booted foot to the other. “Does OZ care which one?”
Ugh.Had to rip the Band-Aid off sometime. I motioned him toward the chair left of the table head.
I refused to dwell on the fact that Coop always ‘sat’ there when he’d join virtually. Or that I really needed him here for this. I’d hung onto the hope that he would realize he missed me, wanted to be with me, longer than he deserved. I didn’t have the luxury of wallowing in self-pity anymore. Certainly not right now, and quite possibly never again if I was right. And the sinkhole my gut had collapsed into since learning about the distressed ship told me I was dead on.
I took my place across the table from Wolfe and pressed a button on my armrest. It lit up a wall of computer screens where various heads of the I&A branch were being conferenced in. Other screens produced an onslaught of sifting data or connected with live feeds from inside the rescue boat.
As Wolfe sat, his eyes volleyed between the screens and the open vault door like he was spectating a championship tennis match. He’d been privy to virtual war room meetings from the Dubai offices, but this time he wasn’t leaning back in his chair, reviewing intel, and mentally preparing a confident plan of action like I’d witnessed many times from him in the U.A.E. But then, he’d never been about to come face to face with the great OZ. His apprehension was understandable.
So was mine. I hadn’t had to deal with a potential threat of this magnitude before. If Coop were here he’d know what to say and do to calm me down… But he isn’t.
Luckily the next best thing, the head of Island I&A, was. Vivian McQueen sauntered down the corridor toward the war room as if it were a runway in Milan. She had no doubt learned the walk from her mother, an elite supermodel who’d been discovered by Ralph Lauren when he’d been on safari in the Mara of Kenya. Having grown up in England, thanks to her Guinean father who’d been a famed midfielder for Manchester United, Vivi had had everything going for her to be an even brighter star than both her parents, but she wanted to be a spy. Luckily, MI6 was too narrow-minded to use her for anything more than a honey trap.
I flicked my eyes over Vivi appreciatively. The bright pink of her pencil skirt and blazer, like a neon highlighter, contrasted boldly with her midnight-black skin. She looked gorgeous in everything she wore, even the things she hated, like the Obsidian Winds uniform.
As she approached, she shot me an elegantly long middle finger. I couldn’t blame her. We both knew getting her goat was entirely why I hadn’t replaced the required outfit.
“You look very bright, very Caribbean.” Pink. “Festive.”
As she slid into the seat next to me, she growled, “I look like bloody Botswana Barbie.”
“I didn’t think there were any Maasai in Botswana?” I asked.
“No self-respecting Maasai would be caught dead in this. Actually ‘dis… Tiday, mi ah Jamaican mon. Nuh worry, lass, everything irie!”
Her grousing attempt to morph her velvety British accent into a Jamaican patois had me laughing. The sound bursting from my lips surprised me as much as the feeling of Vivi’s hand briefly covering mine. I met her eyes. From a glance or a distance they were bold and black and sometimes a bit too hard, but up close they were warmed by a hint of rich brown depth.
“Good to hear your laugh again, love,” Vivi said under her breath.
I hadn’t realized just how much I needed the levity of our rapport. Reminded me I still had friends despite having lost my best one. The fact she’d donned the ridiculously pink uniform without a fight meant someone still had my back.
I swallowed down my emotions as I scooted closer to the conference table. With a subtle press of a button, I closed the vault door, sealing us inside.
Wolfe shifted, keenly regarding the empty seat at the head of the table. “Zaki not coming?”
“Don’t you know, love? Zaki’s already here,” Vivi said with a wink.
But Wolfe didn’t know. Most people weren’t privy to the full extent of Zaki’s reclusiveness, not even some of his longtime employees. I ran my palms along the armrests, then pushed out a steadying breath as my fingers found the controls to initiate his entrance.
Wolfe turned toward the head of the table where Zaki appeared. Though the chair at the table’s head was kept free, he always stood, or rather floated a foot from the ground, appearing just a smidge larger than life.
“Oh.” Wolfe pushed out a low huff. “From Dubai he looked real and—”
Before he could expand on how Zaki looked shorter than he’d expected, I smiled tightly and reminded him quietly, “He is real and he can hear you.”
