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“I already told you to buy it if you want it,” he grunts.
As we head toward the bar, I catch Sophia gushing over the merits of the forty-thousand-dollar jacket. It’s a good thing Bauer paired me with Sophia on this, because I sure as hell couldn’t have a serious conversation about a forty-thousand-dollar jacket.
“Do you like Bloody Marys? Or do you do the mimosa thing?” Rafael asks. The bartender works double-time behind the counter fulfilling orders from diners, but he’s keeping an eye on us, should Rafael say the word.
“Not sure I need any alcohol,” I say, gesturing to my shoulder. It’s the truth. I’m not a heavy drinker and don’t usually start in the morning. He raises an eyebrow. “But a bloody works. Spicy.”
He grins. “Heat. I like it.”
“Where are the guys?” I ask as the bartender jumps to our order. My guess is Rafael tips well and his reputation precedes him.
“Headed out for one last run since we’re packing up early.”
“You must be looking forward to getting back to warm temperatures.” We’ve lucked out as far as snow conditions, but the temperature has been notably frigid for spring skiing, dropping to minus fifteen at night.
“I like it all.” He grins wide and passes me my drink. “Salut.”
I return the greeting, and our glasses clink.
“So, I looked into your businesses.”
“You did?” I rest my good elbow on the bar and lean against it, intrigued to learn what he discovered.
“You’re doing okay, but you’ve got a lot of debt.”
I glance over my shoulder at the women gabbing away at our table. “My wife,” I say with a shrug. “Your wife doesn’t help going on about mink coats.”
He tosses his head back with a laugh. “The ladies are…” He rubs his thumb against his fingers as substitution for the word money. “We might have a chance to work together.” He scans the room, and, curiously, I do the same. There are two exit points, the side door to the patio is locked, and all the patrons match tourist profiles. No one appears to be watching us. “I’ve got a trip planned to the States in two weeks. Will you be around?”
“Yeah. I should be. You coming to Santa Barbara?” His expression is unreadable. “Or I could meet you.”
“I have meetings in LA, but I’d like to swing up to Santa Barbara. Gemma would love it. In the meantime, consider if you’re open to outside investors.”
“You interested in brokerage services?” I pointedly push in my eyebrows, going for an inquisitive, surprised expression.
“Always. And a man with your knowledge of the system… There’s opportunity. Maybe.” He taps my arm. “Let’s go back to the ladies before they bankrupt both of us.”
“They definitely like to shop.”
“Ah, you think Gemma’s bad? You should have met my second wife. Rosie.” He dramatically shudders. Rosie hasn’t come across our surveillance in well over a decade.
“Well, if she’s anything like my ex, she’s still shopping.” I expect him to laugh loudly at that, in a kind of brother bond, but he’s solemn. It’s unnerving. If the wives off our radar are no longer alive, then he’s not happy about that fact.
CHAPTER19
SOPHIA
Sometimes the unexpected comes in with the strength of a tornado, altering the world and leaving a path of destruction behind. Experience taught me this. When life feels too good, too right, it’s time to brace.
An assignment ending a day early is hardly earth-shattering. Yet there’s a sinking disappointment pushing down on me. An irrational reaction to otherwise good news. My first CIA assignment is concluding, and the mission accomplished. A calmness falls over me as Gemma babbles about how disappointed she is her travel plans have imploded. The wise accept the unexpected and move forward.
When I give her a hug and beg to stay in touch, I mean it. I like her. She’s young and not like the real me at all, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like her as a person. That’s one of the things they teach you about undercover assignments. It doesn’t matter if your target is a murderer or a smuggler, if you’re successful in your role, you’re probably going to like them. If you can’t stomach them, if there’s no connection at all, you probably won’t get far with your target. But you have to stay true to your purpose, not to your newfound friend. In the FBI, we met officers who spent so many years undercover they were invited to their targets' family weddings. And when the time came, those same officers had to testify against this person, or people, who trusted them.
Fisher and I pause outside the elevators. There’s a closeness between us now. An intimacy that didn’t exist yesterday. As we wait for the elevator, I lean into him, and his hand brushes against mine. The small contact burns and ripples along my skin with lightning-fast intensity. I glance up at him, searching his face, but I’m not sure what I’m searching for.
Will he want to see me again? Will I ever see him again after we go our separate ways?
The faint lines around his eyes deepen and his jaw muscles flex. He hasn’t trimmed his beard in the last few days, and the uneven growth gives him a rugged appearance. When I look at him, I see strength and reliability. Determination. Tenderness. He’s a protector. My protector. For a fleeting moment, he was more. Someone who opened up a new side of myself. Those deep blue eyes are introspective and thoughtful. What does he see when he looks at me?
