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She was in the bed—alone because Eric had slept on the floor. He’d insisted, telling her the floor was luxury compared to some places he’d bedded down on SEAL ops. She’d wanted to ask him about his time in the special forces, but his tone hadn’t encouraged any follow-up questions.
“We’re rolling?” she croaked, swinging her feet to the floor. “Charlie call?”
“Uh-huh.” Eric was already dressed and looked very put together, whereas a glance in the bathroom mirror showed her she was as wild-haired and sleep-creased as she felt. “Our brief is to do some reconnaissance and come up with a plan for whatever comes next,” he called as she closed the door.
“Gimme five,” she shouted, and hurrying, was out in exactly that.
It was early and not much was open. They stopped for gas and whatever the gas station sold that looked the most like breakfast food, then headed for the address that Charlie had located in association with the name Arturo Rodriguez. It appeared to be a compound out in the middle of nowhere. Rhianne peered around at the scenery as Eric drove higher into the arid mountains that overlooked their target—he’d grabbed the keys to the rental car while she was in the bathroom, so she was stuck with the role of passenger.
“This should be high enough.” Eric braked and cut the engine. “Wait while I check to make sure we have enough cover.”
She hadn’t been planning on getting out and turning cartwheels around the vehicle, but she said nothing as she watched Eric walk in one direction and then another, climb up a few feet on one side, then the other, and nod.
“This vantage point should work,” he said, getting back in.
Eric must be used to this, she supposed, imagining all the recon that went into special forces ops, but sitting around and doing nothing wasn’t something she was good at.
She stared dutifully down at the buildings that made up the walled-in compound, but nothing seemed to be happening down there. The minutes ticked by slowly, the silence making them crawl slower. She checked her watch and was shocked to see that only an hour had passed. How was that possible? She’d sworn they’d been here for at least three! She cleared her throat, unable to stand it a second longer.
“I’ve been thinking,” she began when Eric flicked the briefest of sidelong glances at her. “About our cover story. We need to work on it some more if we’re going to convince anyone that we’re a couple.”
“I agree.” Eric’s reply came as he faced front, his eyes never leaving their target.
“We worked out a backstory for our relationship, but we don’t know that much about each other,” Rhianne continued, “and it could be something that comes up.”
“Hmm. I’m guessing you don’t have your baby photos or school yearbooks with you,” Eric said, and Rhianne huffed out a laugh. “So, if show and tell is off the table, how about twenty questions? I’ll start. What’s your favorite color?”
“Blue,” Rhianne replied.
“Baseball team?”
“Giants. I’m from San Francisco,” she explained.
“See? I never knew that. Favorite Kardashian?”
“What?” she spluttered. “Really? People have favorites? I don’t think I can even tell one from the other! The tallest one is a model, and the mom has shorter hair, right?”
“You’re stalling,” Eric said in a singsong voice, making her laugh again.
They quickly discovered each other’s favorite food, places they’d like to visit and why, happiest memory, and most embarrassing experience before Eric decreed it was time for breakfast.
“Thank God.” Rhianne sighed, pulling the lid off the Styrofoam cup of coffee.
“Taste it first,” Eric advised, unscrewing a small bottle of orange juice. “That gas station chain is not known for the quality of its roasted beans.”
“I don’t care.” Rhianne took a grateful gulp.
Glad the silence was broken, she felt more relaxed now, especially when they swapped the packets of chips back and forth. “Weird breakfast,” she commented, dropping her empty cup into the trash bag. She rolled her shoulders and stretched as much as she could, starting with rotating her ankles and working her way up all the major muscle groups. She’d heard of chairobics, something office workers were supposed to do after every fifty minutes of desk time, but was there an equivalent for, say, cops or private eyes on stakeouts? She’d have to look that up later.
“You okay?” Eric asked, still keeping watch on the property down below.
“Yeah.” She grimaced at the loud crack her neck roll made, popping some small bones or other back into place. “I just don’t know how you can sit still so long. I’m about ready to smash a window to get out of the car.”
“Please don’t. I don’t know how that would look to the rental company when I take the vehicle back.” Eric smirked, but there was no sarcasm in it. Rhianne felt she was getting a handle on his sense of humor now.
“I guess recon’s a part of the job you get used to as a SEAL, right?” she continued.
“Well, it’s certainly part of my job,” Eric agreed. “Part and parcel of being a sniper—you have to learn to be patient, if you’re not naturally.”
