Page 22

Chapter 22

Jay

“ I ’ll drive,” Maxwell said. We’d just finished the Thursday morning meeting with the team and agreed on our plan of attack for the day.

“No, I’ll drive,” I argued.

“What’s your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“You have a problem with women driving,” Maxwell huffed.

It wasn’t that I had a problem with women driving; I didn’t like giving up the control.

But I wouldn’t tell her that. “You know what they say about women drivers.” I shrugged it off like I hadn’t just insulted her and her gender.

“Fine, but only because I don’t feel like arguing,” she grabbed her phone and shoved it into the back pocket of her jeans .

Jeans that fit her perfectly round ass. I bet I could bounce a quarter off that ass .

“Sheppard!”

“What?” I yelled back, pretending it was a conscious choice to ignore her.

“Did you hear a word I just said?” she asked.

“Of course.” One look at her exasperated expression warned me I should fess up. “Fine, I didn’t hear you. Happy now?”

“No. I need to know I can trust you.”

That stung. I might be a smart ass, but she could trust me.

I couldn’t tell her what I was thinking about, so I forced the image from my mind and focused.

“You can trust me. I’m sorry I got distracted.”

She nodded. “When we get there we should leave our phones, IDs, credit cards, and personal items in the glove box. Just in case.”

“You think they’ll frisk us?”

“No, but it’s easier to lie if we’re telling the truth. I’ll feign forgetting my purse. You can come to the rescue with cash.”

“You don’t think they’ll question us both forgetting our wallets?”

“You’ll have yours, just not your ID or credit cards,” she said. “They won’t know what isn’t in your wallet unless they look over your shoulder.”

I pulled out my wallet and removed my military ID and bank card, putting them in my desk. Images flashed across my mind at the sight of my picture. My team was in the thick of things when I renewed, so I looked ragged and sloppy in my photo.

I bet Maxwell looks picture perfect in every ID photo she’s ever taken. I wonder if she has curls or waves. Does she straighten her thick red hair? I’d only seen it out of her trademark tight bun twice, and it was pulled back in a bouncy ponytail after being in a tight bun for hours.

“Let’s go.”

I felt naked not carrying my military ID. Instinctively, I reached for my dog tags, but they no longer hung around my neck. Five months out and I still reflexively reached for them in times of stress.

“How long did it take you to get used to not wearing your tags?”

“I’ll let you know when it happens,” I said, leaving my usual levity behind. I’d only taken them off three weeks ago. I wonder how long it took her? I didn’t ask, and she didn’t offer.

“I imagine it takes longer to adjust for Special Forces guys.”

I shrugged it off. “Maybe.” I didn’t want to talk about the customized dog tags I had to wear behind enemy lines. The ones that were the only personal item we carried with us. The ones that were the only way to identify one us if we got killed. The ones we clung to when we prayed.

Maxwell must have sensed I’d gone somewhere dark, because she lightened the mood by saying, “Come on, Henry. Let’s see if we can get you into a poker game.”

Shutting the memories down, I said, “Right behind you, Babe.” And blew her a kiss .

“This assignment will be the death of me,” she whispered. But not low enough.

“What was that, Snookems?”

“I just remembered the second thing.”

“What’s that, Sweetie Pie?”

“No pet names.”

I hung my head and frowned. Looking back up, I gave her my best puppy dog eyes, and said, “But…”

“Fine.” She conceded. “I’ll tolerate Babe, but nothing else.”

“Copy that. Babe.” I laughed. Ruffling Maxwell’s feathers was even more fun when she played along.

Maxwell went to the cleaners while I ran to the store to grab a coke. She wanted a couple of minutes alone with Adam, to feel him out. And, armed with our new intel, I wanted to see what I could see.

When I joined her, she introduced me to the manager.

Robert Roman.

He carried himself like a guy who knew he could get away with murder.

I guess having a criminal mastermind as an uncle does that to a guy.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Roman.” I stuck out my hand to shake his, and then fought the impulse to wipe my hands on my jeans.

“Honey, I was in such a rush that I forgot my purse. Can you pay for our laundry?”

I laughed, “You’d forget your head if it wasn’t attached.” I turned my attention back to Roman, who was smirking. “What do we owe you? ”

Roman explained Adam wasn’t authorized to give us a discount, and made sure we knew how generous he was being by honoring it. Roman carefully counted back my change then went to the back to get our clothes.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up. This is taking too long .

Maxwell sat on an old plastic chair feigning boredom, but her tapping fingers gave away her anxiety.

Shit, she feels it too.

“Mr. Bishop, can I call you Henry?” Roman asked as he set our bag of clothes on the floor at my feet, his eyes never leaving my face.

“Of course.” I smiled.

“Adam made a note on your account that you’re interested in joining our poker game.”

I smiled and poured on the charm, “I am, if it’s not a problem.”

Maxwell stood and cleared her throat.

Glancing her way, I added, “But only if my wife says it’s okay.”

“Wouldn’t want to piss off the old ball and chain,” he joked.

She feigned a laugh, and said, “I don’t know, we can’t really afford it.”

“What if I let you set my limit?” I begged, “Please, I’ve been on a roll. And we could use my winnings to replace the washer.”

“Maybe, but only if you stick to your budget. I don’t want you losing more than we can afford again.” She’d set the trap .

“No worries there, Mrs. Bishop. We run a small, friendly game with low stakes,” Roman said. Something about the way he said her name made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

Resisting the urge to scan for the threat, I begged, “Please, Babe?”

“Fine, but no complaining about your limit. And you have to take me to the Chinese restaurant. I really like their Kung Pao Chicken and I’m too tired to cook.”

“I can live with that.: I winked. “Thanks, Babe.”

“Got you on a tight leash, huh?” Roman only half whispered.

“I don’t mind, it’s worth it.” I pretend whispered.

“If you give me your number, I’ll text the details,” Roman said.

I gave the number to the burner phone, now registered to Henry Bishop. We said our goodbyes, put the clothes in the back seat of my truck, and walked to the restaurant.

“Something’s going on,” I said after we ordered.

“I felt it too. That’s why I suggested coming here.”

I wasn’t sure I followed her logic, so I swallowed my pride and asked.

“I wanted to give him time to text, thinking we can check the address before we leave.”

“You think he will?”

“Hard to say. I think they’re suspicious. When I asked about Adam, Robert spared no detail while explaining why he had to cover the desk today. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.” She rubbed her arms as if the memory gave her goosebumps.

“I had the same reaction.” More than once . We were running out of time.

Our server brought our drinks. We thanked him when he said our meals wouldn’t be long.

“You think they’ll try something in broad daylight?” I asked.

“It’d make more sense for them to grab you at the poker game. We’ll have someone run intel on the location, once we have it,” she said. “We’ll put backup in position, too.”

I didn’t like the sound of being alone with Roman and his goons, even if I had back up in the area, but it was too late to turn back now. If the game led us to Wendy, it was worth the risk.

We’d left our real phones in the truck, so we couldn’t do any research at the restaurant.

“We need to be careful,” she said.

I nodded. The humming birds tap dancing in my gut wouldn’t let me forget.

Being careful was useless if I couldn’t see the enemy before they fired on us.

“Come on, Babe, two hundred isn’t enough for the night,” I argued as our server dropped off our food.

“Maybe if you won more, I’d trust you with more money,” she replied without missing a beat.

I had to admit, Maxwell and I worked well together. When we weren’t biting each other’s heads off.

We kept the conversation to small talk while we ate .

We were almost done when my vision blurred.

Fuck.

I looked at Maxwell as she leaned back in her seat rubbing her eyes. “I think they drugged uth,” she slurred the last word.

They couldn’t have.

Unless…

Unless Roman owned the restaurant too. Or he’s blackmailing them like he did Davenport.

I tried to stand up but my balance was off. Falling back into my seat, I checked on Maxwell again. Her hands were gripping the edge of the table as she fought to stay conscious.

“Don’t bother trying to fight it.” The voice sounded muffled, like it was coming from under water.

I looked up to see Richard Roman approaching our table. His too big smile making my stomach turn.

“Sheppard. Maxwell.” Our cover was blown. “I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but we both know that’s a lie.”

I opened my mouth to say something but Maxwell’s unconscious body slumping against me ripped my attention back to her. Fuck .

The room spun as I turned back to ask Roman, “What’d you…”