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“Must I remind you, Warrior, I don’t work for you?”
“You know I’m not a warrior. Never call me warrior again.”
She sauntered over to his side of the table and peeled back the leather vest he wore. “I see the scars, Z. You had warrior tattoos at one point.”
He thrust the vest closed. “That is none of your concern.”
“If you’re not ready to talk about it, then wear a shirt next time.”
“You said never go into an unknown situation here without wearing a vest.”
“A bulletproof vest,” she clarified. “When you expect to be shot at, not to have dinner with me. It’s in the manual I gave you two years ago. You know, the black book you use to keep your desk level in your office.”
“I find the book extremely useful.” He grinned. “My desk no longer rocks.”
“You never read the manual, did you?”
“I follow Galactic Intelligence protocols. Earth Intelligence protocols get in the way.”
“Is that your way of sayingIget in the way?”
She’d come dressed to seduce, not discuss work, and now she playfully bantered with him to get a rise out of him. Zirkov strained to keep his horns back in a calm stance.
“You are the DAA liaison. I trust you will notify me when I’ve done something wrong. Which I haven’t here tonight.” He tugged at his leather vest. “Though I misunderstood the type of vest you intended.”
“It’s just as well. There’s no need to wear a bulletproof vest to dinner with me.”
“You carry a gun, and I’ve seen you shoot. I’m safer with the vest on.” He peered at the thin leather. “The correct one.”
“You wish you could shoot as well as me! I’m a dead shot, and you know it.”
He’d shot one of the projectile guns the humans loved and found it less than ideal for a marshal’s needs. “Blasters are much more effective and can take down several enemies at once. And we don’t have to reload.”
“Just the same, cover up when you’re out in the field.” She waved a finger toward his naked chest. “Not that I mind the view.” Her smile lit up the room, but he didn’t know how to handle the suggestion hovering in her sparkling blue eyes. They were allies, fellow marshals. Nothing more, despite what his drekking mating cock would have him believe.
“We are here to eat,” he reminded her as he discreetly adjusted his pants beneath the table. They’d become incredibly tight in her presence.
“After you explain the tattoos.” She wielded that smile like a weapon, almost convincing him to tell her everything.
“I have no tattoos.”
She leaned forward over the table, giving him an amazing view of her breasts. Her breasts would fit nicely into his hands. “The outline of those removed tattoos are roughly the same size, location, and pattern as the warrior tattoos on Stenikov and Skaggs. Stop denying the truth. You were a warrior, and they stripped you of your title and tattoos. Why?”
He set his lips against her ear. “Do you want to see more than my scars, Magdalena?”
She eased back into her chair. “We both know you despise me. Why are we here? Other than to feed you so you don’t get cranky.”
When he didn’t answer her, she rose to leave. He grabbed her wrist, stopping her.
“You’re in trouble, Magdalena. Deeper than you realize. I believe Assistant Director Sutherland suspects a leak. He’s had his people pouring through videos, looking for ties to the dead og’dals. And the coroner’s been ordered not to talk to anyone from GI7, including you. It’s that last part that concerns me. Why would they bar you, Magdalena? You’re part of Earth Intelligence. I think they suspect you. Tell me whatever it is you’ve been hiding from me.”
“There’s nothing to tell. I read the report and saw the photos, the same as you.”
“Damn it, Magdalena, you were there!”
She paled, then glanced around the room to see who had heard him. “I have to go.” She shot to her feet and wove through the tables.
“You can’t do this on your own,” he called after her. The restaurant fell silent, all the patrons watching them.
