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Tamara was trying to make sense of it all in her head when Marko answered.
"We'll be at your grandmother's soon, Tony," he said in a voice softer than his usual gruff bass. "We'll be staying overnight, so don't let me forget to call Mama B to let her know we made it in okay. She'll be mighty teed off if we forget."
"Whatever," Elisa said with the bored insolence that teenagers seemed to have in abundance.
Tamara knew from reading mission reports that Mama B was Bianca. The code name and disguises were all part of stage one precautions, she knew, but it all seemed a little over the top…right up until their waiter stopped at their table. He was an older man who looked like a grandpa from one of Norman Rockwell's paintings, except for the bright red intertwined C and S—The Crest Society's logo—on the inside of his wrist. Tamara's eyes widened with surprise before she dropped her gaze as he filled her coffee mug.
"What can I get you folks?" the waiter asked.
She managed to mumble nothing for her while Isaac ordered half the menu for himself. By the time the waiter left with their order, Marko and Elisa were gone. The plan was in motion, even if it was a total fucking mystery to her. As soon as she got Isaac alone in the motel room, she was going to get every little detail he'd obviously failed to tell her when he'd gone into full on silent mode in the car.
Chapter 18
Marko
The Crest Society's compound reminded Marko of the Pentagon. It had the same five-sided shape with a protected center, and no doubt a person's level of importance grew higher the farther in you went. He and Elisa hadn't even made it into the outer layer before being stopped by security and ordered to park the extended-cab truck registered to one Mark Ryan. Marko had complied, gotten out, and offered his fake ID before telling the security guards he had an appointment. They'd called it in. He'd nodded to Elisa and she'd gotten out of the truck, walked over, and stopped three steps behind him. Glancing back wasn't the best idea, but he couldn't help it. His gaze always seemed to go right to her no matter what.
Seeing Elisa with her eyes downcast and as silent as a good, submissive wife should be didn't just seem wrong to Marko—it had his fingers itching to unwind the long rope of temporarily auburn hair she'd wound around her head in some kind of braid and let the real Elisa out. That wasn't going to happen though, so he shoved his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants to stop himself from reaching out to her and turned back around.
The armed guards standing in front of the compound's entrance with their hands resting on the butts of their holstered nine millimeters weren't important. They were cannon fodder. The man striding through the open gate, he was important. Tall and lanky, he moved like a man confident that the seas would part if he wished it. Marko didn't spot a gun or any obvious bulges denoting a concealed carry, but that didn't mean the man wasn't as dangerous as a bear just out of hibernation.
"Mr. Ryan. It's good to finally meet you in person." Seth Wainger held out his hand, completely ignoring Elisa as if she wasn't any more important than a family pet.
It was a typical move from one of the Crest Society's male members, but it still pissed Marko o
ff. He shook Fane's second-in-command's hand, squeezing harder than necessary but not nearly as much as he wanted. For as long as he could remember, he'd fucking hated assholes who could only make themselves feel better by making others feel worse. Self-worth wasn't a zero sum game. Of course, bullies never understood that. The dumb fucks.
"I second that," Marko said, turning his body so Elisa was cut off from consideration and the conversation.
He was here. He had a part to play. He'd swallow past the sour taste and be just the kind of douchebag his mother would cuff hard on the back of the head and his little sister, Gillie, would goad into insanity.
Wainger crossed his arms over his narrow chest and tipped his head back toward the guards. "The welcome may be a little much, but we never know when the government will try one of their fishing expeditions."
"Happen a lot?" Marko asked, keeping his tone neutral.
The other man shrugged. "Often enough."
According to the information Keir had turned up, six times in as many months. "You'd think they'd get the message."
"Amen to that." He gestured toward the gate. "Let's go in. I can show you around a bit. Mr. Fane is in a meeting, but he'll track us down as soon as he's free. I know he's anxious to meet you."
More like he was anxious to meet Mark Ryan's fictitious bank account. "And I him." He paused for second. "What about my wife?"
Wainger's attention didn't even flicker to Elisa in her ankle-length dress with full sleeves and a high neckline. "We have a women’s retreat here where the wives and soon-to-be wives bake, sew, and do their outside of the home chores."
"Sounds perfect." If he'd been looking to torture Elisa.
"Keith." One of the guards stepped forward. "Have one of the women take…" He looked to Marko, obviously pausing for him to fill in the blank.
Marko knew just what to say to a bunch of dickless wonders who were so scared of women they had to take away every bit of autonomy they had. "Mrs. Mark Ryan."
Approval made Wainger's beady little eyes gleam. "Exactly. Have one of the women take Mrs. Mark Ryan to the women's retreat while I give Mark the full tour."
Marko walked through the open gate with Wainger without even a look back at Elisa. If it had been any other woman on the B-Squad, he'd be worried about getting pelted in the back of the head with a rock, or worse, for treating her so poorly. It wasn't that Elisa was submissive. It wasn't that she didn't care. It was that no one lost themselves in a con role like she did. It was the coolest and scariest thing he'd ever seen, and it made him curious as hell to know the woman she was when she wasn't playing a role.
Chapter 19
Isaac
