Page 27 of Player

“He hates you with a passion.”

“That he does.”

“I should have known.”

“Given how we left things between us, you should have.”

Her eyes go wide then narrow. “I’ll have the special of the day,” she hisses. “The woman running the tortilla stand in Acapulco called me a prostitute then called the police.”

I grin.The horror.

She pokes me in the chest with her free hand. “You lied.”

“I warned you you’d remember me.”

“We had an agreement.”

“The CIA doesn’t make agreements. Against company policy, or didn’t you discover that during yer time abroad?” I add the last part on a wing and a prayer. The CIA must have been on the ground in Aleppo. No way did she spend months in a city under siege without protection, right?

“How do I really know you even work for the CIA?”

I blink. “Eh ... what?”

“I mean how could you, with that accent? Do you have dual citizenship? American and Irish? To work for the CIA ...”

Right-o.

I lightly tap her on the forehead, and she gasps. “Yer thinking too hard.” Damn it. She’s good at catching me off guard. “Tell you what. I’m going to climb off you now. Then we’re going to have a heart-to-heart about the uranium.”

Her eyes light up like I offered her a lick of me lucky lollipop. Good to my word, I roll off her and come up to stand beside the bed.

I take a seat on a small wooden chair and gesture toward the other. “Whenever yer ready.”

She’s out of the bed in seconds.

Ready.

Eager.

Mine to use. Mine to manipulate.