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“What is Paxon doing here?” she murmured, obviously noticing him at the same time I did.
I didn’t know, but by the look on his face, I could tell his reason wasn’t a good one.
He walked over and opened Emerson’s door, glaring at me as he held out his hand to help her out. After he had, Irish stuck his head inside. “Where have you been?”
I didn’t care for his tone even a little. “Dinner, not that it’s any of your business.”
“We need to talk,” he seethed.
I looked beyond him to where Emerson waited just inside the glass doors of her building.
“She knows who I am,” I told him.
“About Saint,”he spat, slamming the passenger door before he stalked away.
“What’s going on?”Emerson asked when I joined her in the lobby.
“I believe Mr. Warrick has news of Saint.”
Other than looking into my eyes, she had little reaction. As we rode the lift to her floor, I noticed her chewing the inside of her lip.
“Is Tommy in danger?”
“I fear he is.”
“Paxon isn’t an assistant analyst, is he?”
“He’s not.”
“Does he also work for MI6?”
“No. CIA.”
Emerson nodded and continued chewing the inside of her lip, processing what I’d just told her.
“Does the danger Tommy is in have anything to do with China?”
“Yes,” I admitted.
“My work with Dr. Benjamin specifically?”
“Yes,” I answered for the second time. As much as I wanted to reassure her, I had to meet with Irish first and find out what was so urgent that he’d been waiting outside Emerson’s building.
“Goodnight,” she said when we exited the lift and I walked toward Saint’s apartment rather than hers. “Thank you for a lovely evening.” She opened her door and then closed it behind her without taking another look at me.
I stalkedover to Saint’s apartment, ready to tear into Irish, but stopped abruptly. As I’d told Emerson, he was not MI6. He worked for the CIA. If there was anyone I should be tearing into, it was his boss.
Sumner Copeland was a man I knew well. We’d risen through the ranks of our respective agencies at the same time and had always been able to work out our differences even when our employers couldn’t.
“Lynx, I’ve been expecting this call.”
“How are you, Cope?”
“Working too much. Don’t see my family nearly enough. You know how that is.”
I did understand the part about working too much, but outside of my brother, who worked as much or more than I did, I didn’t have anyone in my life who would miss me if I weren’t around.
“You said you’ve been expecting my call. Why?” I asked.
