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“Don’t worry big guy, I won’t let you down either.”
I chuckled and reached for one of the pastries. I took my time using my fork and my fingers to separate the delicate confection with its fluffy texture and cream filled goodness. Enough that I had both men watching me avidly and I wasn’t remotely opposed to it. Desire, after all, could be weaponized.
Not that I intended to use either of them that way.
Ever.
The ferociousness of that thought surprised me, but the accuracy fit too well. “Noel Warrick,” I said, before taking a bite and then offering one to Rick. He leaned forward and sucked the sugar right off my fingers, his whole body relaxing at the gesture. Fletcher watched the moment with narrowed eyes.
“What about her?” Fletcher hadn’t stopped watching us—watching me.
“She’s your test.”
“What did you have in mind? Do you want me to cover up for her? Pull every single one of her skeletons out of the closet?” Keen intelligence filled his eyes. “What does the lady desire?”
Interesting. “You don’t sound surprised by the name.”
He gave a shrug. “I read the news. Some names carry weight. Some are flash in the pan.”
“Some don’t deserve the reputation they’ve cultivated,” I said, then took another sip of coffee. “You should try those, they’re delicious.”
“Pick one for me. I’ll eat whatever you like.” Fletcher made it sound like a dare. “How long do I have for the test?”
I checked my watch before I studied the pastries. There were a dozen and Rick hadn’t taken one yet. I glanced at him, but he gave me an easy smile. I chose one of the chocolate ones for him and a sour cream and raspberry one for Fletcher. A little tart for the tart. "We have time for these treats and if you do well… we’ll have time for more after.”
We really did have to go back tonight. Doctor Salinas would need attention and I’d very much like to have Fletcher working on our next task, if he passed this one.
“If you don’t mind making this a working meal,” Fletcher said as he pulled out his phone. “I’ll make sure you get everything you want.”
For the next ten minutes, Rick and I nibbled on our pastries as Fletcher scrolled, typed, and clicked through his phone. Occasionally, a small smile would play on his lips, but more and more the smile turned to an outright disgusted grimace.
That was how I knew he was learning exactly who Noel Warrick was.
“How are you doing this from your phone?” Rick kept his voice low as he motioned toward said phone with the last bite of his chocolate pastry. As soon as the last word left his mouth, he stuffed it in his mouth, then promptly sucked the crumbs off of his forefinger and thumb.
Fletcher’s thumb paused where it hovered over the screen and glanced up at Rick. His clear blue eyes twinkled. “You want to know how I make the magic happen?”
Rick nodded, not overly enthused. More like he was suspicious of everything Fletcher did and needed to know what was happening. I used to be that way, but I’ve learned enough about most of the occupations I come into contact with within the network, I could make an educated guess. Just enough knowledge to be dangerous and prevent me from going crazy questioning their actions and motives.
The corners of Fletcher’s eyes crinkled in his amusement as he grinned at Rick. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you. That goes against everything I’m trying to accomplish right now Mr. Hardy, so I’m afraid I’ll have to keep these answers to myself.”
I snorted, the coffee I’d just sipped going up my nose. I grabbed a cloth napkin to clean myself up and looked to Rick to see how he was taking Fletcher’s playful comments.
Rick’s jaw rhythmically flexed as he stared down Fletcher. He couldn’t possibly think Fletcher was serious, just the thought of him trying to take on Rick, who I’d seen lose himself at the first scent of blood, was laughable.
Fletcher knew that.
If I needed to, I’d pull Rick back. We didn’t need to cause a scene here. In such an idyllic location, no one would forget the details any time soon. Although, some of the tension drained out of Rick, letting me know he was in control.
He did continue the death glare though. I was sure most men cowered under that daunting gaze, but it didn’t seem to faze Fletcher. The man just smirked and shook his head.
Leaning forward, he braced his wrist on the table. It was a move to both keep the phone in his hand, and get as close to us as possible.
“As much as I’d love to indulge you in this conversation, Mr. Hardy, now is not the time. Perhaps when we’re having drinks at my place or yours, away from prying eyes, I would be happy to enlighten you on all the tricks to my trade. Within reason, of course.” If Rick had kept his voice low, Fletcher’s was barely a ghost of a whisper.
Canting his head, Rick didn’t bother answering him. No, I was wrong. He was considering his words.
“I accept that now isn’t the best time.” And he left it at that.
