“I promised to make omelets.” She glanced around for cooking tools, at least a spatula. Maybe they were in a drawer. Her box was sitting on the counter of a sideboard. Oh, good. But those were all specific to Chinese cooking, and she didn’t need them just to make omelets.
He stepped away and the space he’d occupied cooled in his absence, or maybe she imagined it. “You don’t have to make them, but if you’re hungry anything in the refrigerator is fair game.”
Determined to stay on track, she strode to the refrigerator to see what they had in stock.
If she had high hopes based on the appliances, there were no words for the desolation of the interior. Looked like Mexican, Chinese and pizza either delivered or were within quick driving distance, based on the neatly stacked takeout containers occupying the bottom shelf. One drawer contained a few packages of deli meats and cheeses all on the verge of expiring. There was also a random jar of olives. The rest of the cooled space was wiped down and pristine. A lone carton of two-percent milk and several dozen eggs sat waiting on a middle shelf.
He must’ve gone out to get those while she’d been sleeping. The realization sank in as she closed the refrigerator. When she peeked into the freezer, all she found was a random loaf of ciabatta bread that must have come with some large order of takeout. She took a closer look at the cooking range. Barely used. The cabinets probably didn’t have much besides ready-to-eat cereals. Call it a guess.
“Doesn’t anyone living here actually cook?” She immediately bit her lip. Way to go, coming into the man’s home and being rude.
“These are temporary quarters.” Gabe didn’t take offense. If anything, the amusement was threaded back into his voice again. The same tone she remembered from last night. “The kitchen is here in case a chef is brought in to help out or if someone staying likes to cook, but no one currently here does.”
A mug appeared at her side. Did the man ever make any noise? At least she hadn’t jumped and made a fool of herself again. Instead, she took the proffered coffee and considered the kitchen. “I was thinking about what additional information I can give you to help find An-mei. Where’s the rest of your team? Is the man in the computer room near the front going to join us?”
Gabe hooked a stool with his foot and pulled it out from under the breakfast counter in the center of the kitchen. “They’ll be along shortly. And like I said, you don’t need to cook.”
“Can they hurry? Are they far away?” More questions threatened to tumble out of her mouth, each one sharper than the previous. Instead of letting those loose, she took a sip and tried not to grimace. “You all use those instant coffeemakers with the individual cups, don’t you?”
“It’s decent and quick. Easy cleanup.” He shrugged. Then he jerked his head in the direction of the hallway. “Marc is on surveillance right now but he’ll join us when Lizzy and Victoria come out of their rooms. We’re all in this building.”
She debated asking him to check on them. But her sister needed this man and his team. Teams? She needed to give him the best answers possible, which meant she needed to refrain from antagonizing him and do her best to get her brain moving.
She bit back her request to go get Lizzy and Victoria, whoever they were, turning back to the refrigerator instead. She pulled out the milk and the eggs, feta cheese, plus a container of what looked like leftover salsa verde, then the remains of a spinach salad. When she placed her armload on the center island, she was caught by his stare. She blinked and swallowed. “Anything is fair game, right?”
His brows drew together in a scowl. Intimidating, yes, but not frightening this morning. Not compared to how angry he’d been the previous night. “We need you to concentrate, tell us every possible detail.”
She met his glare with a steady stare of her own. “There’s only you here right now and I focus better if my hands are busy cooking. Honestly.”
This was how she worked best, multitasking.
“Can’t hurt to let the woman cook. Some of us actually enjoy breakfast.” A dark-haired woman with olive skin stalked around the corner from the portion of the hallway that went past the kitchen. Eyes so dark they were almost black pierced Maylin with a sharp glance. “I’m Isabelle, but the team calls me Lizzy. We sort of met last night for a few seconds before they tossed you in the back of the ambulance.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t remember.” And Maylin wasn’t sure how anyone could forget Lizzy after meeting her. Intimidating wasn’t a strong enough word for her.
Lizzy shrugged. “You got flattened into the sidewalk. No worries.”
Maylin didn’t know what to say to that. Despite the impact of the initial introduction, Lizzy seemed to be satisfied with leaning her forearms on the counter and just...hanging out.