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“Something like that,” I murmured.
His expression changed to the same one he usually got when he had an epiphany. “Z gave you your code name, didn’t he?”
I nodded. “I’ve been known to be overly idealistic. Truth, justice, and all that.”
“Nothing wrong with the credo.”
He appeared lost in thought, so I stopped trying to think of anything to say.
“Is that what’s behind your fascination with assassination?” he asked after a few minutes.
“In a way. Justice isn’t always just.”
“I agree. In my experience, it rarely is. However, where our opinions differ is I believe killing someone is letting them off too easy.”
“Assassination isn’t something that typically takes place once someone has been apprehended. Instead, it’s carried out when the bad guy is impossible to catch or outside our jurisdiction.”
“I’m going to ask you something that you don’t have to answer.”
“Go ahead,” I said.
“How many people have you assassinated?”
I felt my cheeks flush. “My standard answer is one too many. However, while I’ve been forced to kill in the line of duty, I haven’t officially started with Unit 23, which in turn means no assassinations yet.”
“Understood.”
“I may not make the move.” I stunned myself by admitting it to Zeppelin. Two days ago, there was no way I would’ve considered doing so. I laughed. Two days ago, he would’ve been the last person I’d open up to.
“What’s funny?”
“Me confiding in you.”
He smiled. “Yeah, that’s surprising.”
“How does fondue sound?”
“Amazing, but what’s the segue?”
I pointed. “That place is supposed to be really good.”
Since there was a valet out front, Zeppelin pulled right up, and, given it was between lunch and dinner, we didn’t have to wait for a table.
“Why wouldn’t you make the move?” he asked after we’d ordered a bottle of wine and the waiter poured a glass for each of us.
“I think I might miss the collaboration.” While I winked, I meant it.
“I couldn’t handle that kind of isolation.”
“You’re kidding,” I deadpanned.
“That reminds me, Elise, my love.” Zeppelin reached across the table and motioned for me to give him my hand. “Hang on.” He got up and sat beside me instead. When he leaned in and kissed my temple, it felt a little too real. Better put, I wanted it to be real.
Instead of pulling back, he leaned in closer, his mouth by my ear. “Two o’clock,” he whispered.
I glanced in that direction, then back at Zeppelin. “That’s James Godwin,” I whispered. “Wasn’t the US ambassador to Malta under indictment?” I whispered.
“The last we heard,” he whispered back.
