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Her green gaze darted over Naomi and locked onto Eb.That green gaze sharpened.Hardened.
“Eb Jones,” she barked.“What in the hell are you doing here?”
He still had his gun.He should lower it.Especially considering that he was surrounded.
The woman took an aggressive step forward.She also motioned for some of the armed group members to enter the bar.Two men—both in plain clothes but who moved with a lethal grace that told Eb they had black ops experience—immediately dashed inside the bar.
Eb cleared his throat.How to play this scene?Hmm.He’d try friendly first.Why not?“Hi, Madeline.”He flashed a smile and knew that his dimple would wink.The dimple could occasionally be disarming.Though, based on extensive experience, he knew it was very hard to disarm Madeline.“As always, it’s a pleasure to see you.”It actually was not.Quite the opposite.“FYI, the men you just sent in?I feel I need to warn you that they’re going to find a dead body inside the bar.”
Naomi glanced back at him in surprise.“You’re just going to flat outtellher that detail?Announce it as calm-as-you-please?”
Madeline Desalt shook her head.She also holstered her weapon.“He’d damn well better tell me what’s happening.Kinda part of the package.After all, he’s working for me.”
Naomi flinched.
Eb didn’t correct Madeline’s words.Even though he was not, in fact, still working for Madeline at the CIA.He was too busy trying to figure out why a ground team was swarming a rundown bar in Baton Rouge.Not exactly typical spook behavior.
Madeline’s hands went to her hips.“I’m Eb’s boss,” she added, in case Naomi just couldn’t connect the dots.“And you two are in a world of trouble.”
ChapterThirteen
“I toldyou to stay out of this case,” Madeline told Eb as she paced in the small police station at the edge of town.They were currently in one of the interrogation rooms, a tight and narrow space with a long mirror positioned along the left wall.
Eb thought that having him in interrogation was more than a bit of overkill, but, hey, if she wanted to put on a show for the locals, who was he to argue?
She’d flashed some official-looking government paperwork to the police chief and basically taken over the station.The only cop who’d tried to stand up to her had been a very loud and vocal Detective Clark Anderson.But he’d quickly been ordered to stand down by his chief.After all, when the CIA rolled into town, you didn’t get to argue with them.You just had to back the hell away or else they would mow right over you.
“I don’t remember you saying that, exactly.”Eb kept his own voice cool as he continued to recline in the chair near the old, scratched table in the middle of the room.A wobbly table.One leg didn’t seem to match up in height to the other three.“You told me that the DA wasn’t filing charges against Naomi for the murder of her husband.”
“I told you that this case was not related to our work.Not our jurisdiction.Not our wheelhouse.”
And, yet…here they all were.Right in the wheelhouse.
“In case you need a translation, when I said all of that?It meant don’t get your ass involved.”She stopped pacing.Exhaled—fine, she let out a long sigh.Her hair skimmed her jaw as she shook her head.“You were supposed to stay the hell out of things in Baton Rouge.”
They’d separated him from Naomi.Something Eb did not like.But he was trying not to show just how much the situation pissed him off.What happened between him and Naomi was their business.No one else’s.
“You came down here to prove the widow was guilty as hell, didn’t you?”Her hands were on her hips.One of her favorite poses.A pose that was reflected in the one-way mirror near her.
Eb had only glanced briefly toward that mirror once.He wasn’t particularly in the mood to see his own reflection.“That was the original plan I had, yes.I think I told you before that I’d handle things when it came to her.”When she’d called to tell him that the DA had dropped charges, he’d told Madeline—specifically told her—that he’d be handling Naomi.
So why is Madeline here with a ground team?What is really happening?
Madeline sucked in her cheek.“How is that working out for you?The, uh, handling of things?”
“Got to admit, things are not necessarily going according to plan.”His plan had not included him being separated from Naomi.Was she being grilled in another interrogation room?Probably.But who was doing the grilling?A local cop or a trained CIA interrogator?
He still couldn’t believe that Naomi’s bat had been used to beat the Russian to death.What a clusterfuck.
Madeline strode toward him.She didn’t bother pulling out the other chair, though.Instead, she hopped on the edge of the wobbly table.It tilted beneath her weight.Her high-heeled feet swung lazily.“Not according to plan, huh?Then you did notmeanfor the chief suspect’s house to nearly go up in flames?”She rocked back and forth, testing the table as it wobbled beneath her and her swinging feet.“The chief here should really spring for some new furniture.”
He doubted that the chief gave a flying flip about the wobbly table.With minimal effort, Eb kept his relaxed pose.“Are you asking me if I set fire to Naomi’s home?”
“Did you?Did you set the fire so that you could play hero and get her to trust you?Smart move, if so.”Admiration entered her voice.“There is no faster way to gain a perp’s confidence than to convince the individual that you are a savior.A confidant.A friend.”A pause.“Maybe even a lover?”One dark eyebrow quirked.
He smiled at her.He didn’t know Madeline’s age, and he damn well would never ask.No wrinkle lines gave her away.Not so much as a hint of gray appeared in the darkness of her hair.She was beautiful and smart and had been working for the Agency before he’d ever been recruited.As far as he knew, she hadn’t done much field work.Madeline enjoyed manipulating from behind the scenes.She’d been his handler and Hudson’s.Sometimes, she’d been their only point of contact in a world that seemed to have gone straight to hell.
She’d always been there when they needed her.She’d never abandoned them.She’d also never told them the full story about many of their missions.Such was the way of the Agency.