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“I honestly don’t know, but we’re going someplace far better than that.”
“I don’t know if anything is better than those waffles.”
“Well, you’ve never had one of Rafe’s homecooked meals.”
“I didn’t know he cooked.”
“I’m surprised Carmen didn’t mention it. His parents are world-renowned chefs and taught him everything they know. He kept it secret from all of us. It’s a mistake he pays for now.”
“How?”
“We make him cook dinner atInsanityon the first Saturday of every month. It’s become an unofficial Guardian event. That’s tonight.”
“What’s insane about that?”
“Insanityis a place.”
“A place calledInsanity?”
“Yup.”
“And where is this place?”
“Now that is a surprise you’re going to love.”
“How mysterious.” She rubs her hands together, having fun. “I can’t wait.”
And I can’t wait to see her reaction toInsanityand the guys who call it their home.
TWENTY-ONE
Zeb
When I arriveat the conference room, it’s alive and buzzing with activity. Mitzy’s there with four of her team, gathered around the conference table, talking amongst themselves. She’s at the head of the table, not leading any conversation but arguing over which of the dozens of screens she wants information displayed on.
A familiar energy fills the room: anticipation melding with apprehension. It’s always like this when we launch a new operation. This first session is about building out a basic profile and looking for anything concerning that might point to difficulties down the road.
Mitzy notices my entrance and smiles. Her psychedelic pixie hair sparkles under the bright halogen bulbs that light the room. The aroma of ozone from multiple computers, as their servers chew through data at an incredible speed, laces the air. Mixed in with that are the various smells of cheap cologne and breath mints from Mitzy’s team.
Bravo team avoids artificial scents. It’s one of any number of things with the potential to alert the enemy to our presence. As for Bravo team we’re all here, minus one. Brady, Booker, Rafe, Hayes, and I sit around the table. Alec’s on leave, doing whatever it is he does for fun.
“You’re the last one here.” Mitzy points to one of the chairs. “Take a seat.”
“Where’s CJ? Sam?” I look at Brady, concerned they’re not here, but then maybe Kaye’s crazy stalker-ex isn’t important to the top brass?
“Working another issue.” Brady rubs the back of his neck.
“Are we waiting for them?” I glance around the room, listening to the half-dozen side conversations going on between Mitzy and her team.
“No.” Brady leans back and shifts in his seat. “They said to get started.”
I slide into a chair and make myself comfortable.
Mitzy opens up several screens that line the walls, pulling up demographic data and pertinent information about Professor Scott Parker. The data scrolls in a near-endless stream, too fast for me to pick up on any particular details.
“Got anything good?” I expect little from this first meeting. It’s focused on establishing a baseline more than anything else.
“Nothing good,” Mitzy mutters, fiddling with her display, pulling up multiple files. “A forest of red flags.”
