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Separate tickets and flights would take them to Vegas. Airport security had more cameras than most locations, so she’d need a different look for the flight. Her gear would go with Merc. Weapons could be procured on the ground. Plat would take care of the rest of the equipment.
In the room she’d occupied, she studied her wigs, makeup, and kit. A business conference required a different kind of persona than a hot club, a classroom, or a fundraiser. Depending on her goal, she could change her features enough that Gabriel wouldn’t recognize her again.
A pang struck her at the thought. He’d suffered enough abuse already for having had the misfortune of being on the receiving end of their investigation. The door thumped open quietly and closed gently.
“You should tell Chrome to let you back off this assignment.”
She’d expected the advice. Expected a lot sooner—from the moment he’d shown up and clocked Gabriel. The quiet thrust of his fury had been a tangible thing. Only her stepping between them had kept Merc from killing the man. She should have recognized he would follow her when she’d taken off to meet Gabriel. She should have recognized Merc wouldn’t involve himself until he thought she was in trouble. He hadn’t, not when Gabriel pinned her or when he’d let her go. Merc even kept his distance when she had her gun in Gabriel’s face—it was when she’d let him go.
“You’re compromised, Copper.”
“I can do the job.” Their investigation pointed them away from Gabriel, granting relief she refused to acknowledge. Black hair—if she darkened her hair, she could take advantage of her skin tone and use cosmetics to enhance the faint tilt to her eyes. Asian blended well into an international conference on commerce. Racial stereotyping might be grounded in bigotry and racism on some levels, but it also proved beneficial when she didn’t want anyone to know who she was.
She could keep the Kiki persona in her back pocket if necessary to get close to Coyle again. It would work.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t, but you don’t fucking have to eviscerate yourself to do it.” If any other member of their team suggested she needed to step back, she’d beat the shit out of them. Merc saying it hurt, but she knew why he broached the subject.
She’d scared him.
“I’ve got this,” she said. The key to blending and to lying was the same—believing the lie. It didn’t matter if she couldn’t put Gabriel in his place and shut the damn door. If she could make a twenty-mile hike through hostile territory with a broken bone and her gear and get the mission done, she could do this. “Trust me, John.”
“Don’t hide from me.” Anger soaked his words. “Don’t play games. You want to fuck him, and it compromises you.”
Not responding, she continued setting out the items she’d need. If she got into character now, she could leave Copper’s detritus behind. Damaged, tarnished Copper. Her ravaged heart was too fucking soft—Who am I kidding?Copper could get the job done. It hadn’t been Copper who fucked up.
It was Sachi.
Merc’s sigh said volumes. He didn’t sigh. He didn’t show disappointment. Hell, he expected disappointment like most people expected to breathe. “You already did.”
“It’s done.” She used a brush to smooth her hair, then began to braid it tight to her skull. Once she tamed the wild mass, she’d slip the black wig into place. “Done and buried.”
“Sachi…” He put a hand on her shoulder. “What do you want me to do about him?”
Clearing her throat, she ignored the surge of emotion. The part she had to play didn’t feel all these crazy things. “Nothing.”
“You realize he’s got training. Nothing we did broke him in there. The only times I saw real emotion were when he asked about you.” No, she didn’t want to hear this, but Merc continued anyway. “He’s a spook. Spooks are trained to turn assets. You play people, but you canbeplayed.”
Shaking off his hand, she finished the last braid and slipped a pin in to hold it. Fixing her wig, she met John’s gaze in the mirror. The scarred half of his face a testament to the hell he’d been through, the hell he continued to use to isolate himself. She could lash out, try to push him away. He’d done the same to her over the years. But John, like her, wasn’t going anywhere.
“He didn’t play me.” Saying it didn’t make it so. “But he did recognize me.”
Merc’s mouth tightened.
“He saw me in Miami.” Clearing her throat, she adjusted the wig and checked her appearance. “And he saw us in Nigeria.”
“Yet, hedidn’tplay you?” The healthy dose of skepticism in his voice splashed her like ice water. “Weren’t you the one who told me that a lie built on the truth was the best con? He showed you some of his cards, and you dropped your clothes.”
Bullshit.He didn’t play her.
“Let me ask you this—what did he tell you after you fucked him?” The question burned. “If he didn’t play you, what did you get out of it?”
Clenching her fist, she glared at him. “Not a goddamned thing. Are you happy now?”
“No,” Merc said, meeting her glare without flinching. “Did you give him anything?”
“No. Do I look stupid? You know what? Don’t answer that. I fucked him. Maybe he did try to play me, but I didn’t give him anything.” Thanks to the drug cocktail they’d given him, he wouldn’t remember their interrogation.
Shaking his head, Merc looked disappointed. Again.
