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“Saving this operation.” I popped open the driver side door, climbed out, and slammed the door closed behind me.
“Bond, get back here,” TJ said in my ear. “That’s an order!”
“We can talk about it later, sir,” I said, using the honorific he hated. “And before you come after me, you might want to consider how suspicious it will look to anyone surveilling the side streets if you roll out of the big, black panel van after me.”
TJ spouted off a stream of expletives that would make a sailor blush. Luckily, I’d been army issue, so wasn’t easily shocked. “Evan, I’m headed your way,” I said. “Pretend you’re happy to see me.”
I rounded the corner and made a beeline for the deli. I clicked off my comms unit because TJ’s not-so-quiet diatribe was exacerbating my low-grade headache. As soon as I was inside the restaurant, the team would be able to hear and see me anyway. I was a few feet from the entrance when movement in my peripheral vision caught my attention and it occurred to me I’d gone dark again like Friday night. It had been for less than a minute, but it had been stupid and I knew it. I hustled up and practically ran through the front door like I was late for an important appointment.
When I caught sight of Evan watching the door then rising to meet me, my shoulders relaxed and I smiled, not entirely for show. “Darling,” I said as I approached him and threw my arms around his neck.
“TJ wants you to know you’re on suspension, and I’m paraphrasing,” he whispered, then kissed me.
“Just give me a minute to get settled,” I said for the team’s benefit. I glanced across the table from Evan and around the deli, taking in the positions of the rest of the team. “Cute place,” I said, and continued observing the customers, my gaze resting on the profile of the man in the ball cap. “Shit,” I whispered. I shot a wide-eyed look at Evan, hoping he could read that I recognized our mystery man, and clicked on my comms so I was sure they caught every word.
“She knows him,” I heard Kessler say through the comms unit.
“Hank?” I called to the man who was a couple of yards away from us. “Hank Clybourne?”
“Shit,” TJ said.
I’d said the full name because I knew TJ would recognize it as another of our old army buddies.
Hank looked startled, then confused, then his face relaxed and he grinned. “Samantha?”
We both stood and met each other in a hug in the space between our tables.
“Evan,” I said, “this is Dr. Hank Claybourne, my Medical Corps commander. Hank, this is Evan, my...” My throat tightened.
Evan stood and held out his hand. “Samantha’s significant other.”
While they shook hands, I worked on taking deep breaths and slowing my pulse, which was throbbing in my sore temple. I knew Evan’s pronouncement was a cover for our mission, but I liked it far too much.
“Glad to hear she’s finally settling down,” Hank said.
Evan grinned, but his jaw was tight.
“What are you doing here?” I changed the subject. “Please, sit down and tell me everything!” I glanced at Evan. “I haven’t seen Hank for, what, six months? Since he retired from his post.”
“Retired?” Evan asked as we sat down. “You’ve put in your twenty years?”
Hank nodded. “Entered the army right out of medical school, trained in surgery after the fact. Are you military?”
I thought I heard tension in Hank’s voice. Coupled with the fact that he had been meeting with O’Dell, I tensed up, too. My former CO couldn’t possibly be mixed up with Carbonados, so what the hell was he doing here?
“Former military,” Evan answered Hank’s question. “I left five years ago.”
“One of the things we have in common.” I flashed a smile at Evan. “So Hank, what have you been up to for the past six months?”
He shook his head. “Taking some time. Catching up on rest. You know how it is. Weighing my options.” He leaned forward and propped his elbows on the table. “In fact, I’ve been in talks regarding a position with a government agency.” He dropped his voice. “You’re not, by chance, in town for the same reason?”
I widened my eyes. “A job interview? No, I’m here for a conference. Why do you ask?”
Hank smiled. “I gave the agency your name and CV.”
My fingers and toes went numb. I was no Alder, but I would put money on the probability that Hank’s “agency” was Carbonados, and he’d handed them information about me. They would learn nothing that they couldn’t get from a Google search, and Hank didn’t know the truth about my current occupation to be able to share it with them, but I didn’t like this development.
“Why would you do that?” I asked.
