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“A few. Mostly through work.” He runs his hand through his disheveled hair and gives me a half-smile that is toe-curling sexy. “Trevor, Ryan.”
I nod. Ryan might as well be my uncle, given he married Aunt Alex. Sure, she was my mom’s close friend and is technically an adopted aunt, but I see them both regularly. Trevor has a stepson I enjoyed hanging out with. Last I heard, he made it through BUD/s, which means he’s on a SEAL team kicking ass somewhere. I never hear from him.
“Your dad. I count him as a friend.”
The tilt of Fisher’s head and his bowed shoulders convey guilt. And I remember how I practically pawed him earlier this evening. Is he feeling guilty about that? I totally enjoyed it, which was highly unusual for me, but it had been for the job. We played our roles.
But another thought crosses my mind. “Does he know we’re here?” He doesn’t respond.
Were my suspicions correct? Is Fisher here on behalf of my father, once again playing bodyguard, and he just lied to me earlier?
“Not unless Trevor told him. But I doubt Trev would mention it. He knows I’m here for work.” I examine Fisher, searching for any of the signs of deception. “I swear, Sophia. This assignment isn’t one your dad pulled out of his bag of tricks. He’s not keeping tabs.”
“If you say so.” Fisher’s countenance is stern. He doesn’t seem to like me questioning his veracity, and that’s fair. “Nah, you’re probably telling the truth.” My gaze falls over the rumpled comforter. “If Dad arranged this, there’s no way he’d set us up in a suite with one bed.”
Fisher grins and holds an index finger up in the air. He shakes it at me a couple of times, like I’m a naughty girl, then closes the door behind him.
I flip off my bedside light and lean back against the pillows with an inexplicable grin plastered on my face.
CHAPTER12
FISHER
A haze of gray covers the sky with shades of steel over the mountains. The forecast calls for snow showers beginning sometime this afternoon. The frigid temperature forced my morning workout indoors, but the Four Seasons gym proved an adequate substitute.
I have the day to catch up on reports from my last case and to read through updates. My work cell rings, and I answer it without much thought. I’m in our suite, alone.
“Can you talk?” Bauer isn’t the CIA officer I expected to be calling when I saw the area code. Technically, he should go through Rita while I’m on an op. I assume he’s calling to clear the air about the assignment I didn’t receive. The promotion he hung over my head like a carrot these last few years.
“Yep.” I slide back on the sofa and stare out across the blanketed peaks.
“Your wife with you?”
“She’s out skiing.”
“With the target?”
“Yep.”
“Good. This op is evolving.”
“What do you mean?”
“A source claims Toro’s father is going to declare his presidential candidacy.”
“Okay.” The information doesn’t surprise me. We’re here because Rafael Toro’s father is an influential Colombian as much as because his uncle leads a cartel responsible for a significant percentage of Colombian cocaine and heroin production.
“FBI source. We’re still fleshing out details, but it could have some implications for this op.”
“Like?”
“How we’re going to work with our fellow partners.” He means other intelligence operations, primarily the FBI.
“Where’s Rita?”
“She asked that I run point on this one with you.”
“Oh?”
