“Not exactly, and I would never be allowed into his inner circle. He knows me. But I might be able to work at the outer edges of his organization. And the minute I see him, I’ll kill him, so it’s all cool.”
Alex started to walk toward Neiman Marcus.
Simon followed along. “You can’t be thinking of actually doing this. You’re too close to this case. If you need to send someone in, I’ll do it.”
There were several things wrong with that scenario, including the fact that Simon taking over his responsibilities made him want to punch something. He decided to go with the most obvious, least emotional reason. “The job is for a Dom in Residence. You don’t even have Master Rights at Sanctum yet.”
Simon shrugged as he walked. Somehow the Brit made the gesture look elegant. Alex didn’t miss how every woman they passed stopped and stared at Simon. If the job had called for a manwhore, Simon would have been perfect. As far as Alex could tell, the Brit had a different woman every night of the week. “Ryan passed me on the primary courses. I haven’t passed Ian’s ropes tests. I’ve been practicing on that little sub, what’s her name? Sonya? Sasha?”
“Sondra,” Alex corrected. Sondra was a nice young woman in nursing school. Simon had been sleeping with her off and on for weeks, but he couldn’t remember her fucking name. Yeah, that was classy.
Simon snapped his fingers as though the name had fallen into place. “Right. Sondra. I’ll pass next week. I’ll be fine. I’m new to the lifestyle, but I rather enjoy it. I like being in control for a bloody change.”
Alex liked being in control, too, and he wasn’t about to give it up. “It’s not happening. If I decide to take the job, you would be backup, nothing more. Evans is mine.”
Evans had destroyed him. It would be nice to return the favor.
“Well, it certainly sounds like he has your number. One hint of the man and you’re lying to your friends. I called Ian, by the way. He thinks you called me when the meet changed at the last minute and you realized I was closer. I think Ian has enough on his mind without worrying about his best friend lying to him.”
Ian should understand. He was obsessed with finding Eli Nelson. Alex had caught him on several occasions staying up late at night at the office going over and over every piece of information they had, all of it laid out on a conference table like the pieces to a puzzle he just couldn’t make fit.
“Thanks.” Guilt gnawed at him. He wasn’t trying to lie to Ian, but this was important. And what about Eve? How is she going to take it, you asshole?
Lately his inner voice had taken to calling him all manner of names. He strode through the door and a blast of heat hit him. The Texas sun had been turned up to full blast. He looked out over the well-manicured landscape of North Dallas. Northwest Highway was in front of him, cars jammed into the lanes like sardines moving slowly toward some unknown destination. Traffic in Dallas always sucked, but construction was making it utterly unbearable. He strode toward his truck, wondering how his reception would be back at the office. He didn’t believe for a minute that Ian would buy Simon’s story. Ian knew him way too fucking well. He was in for an ass kicking the minute he got back to the office.
And he would take it because the truth of the matter was he needed his team.
“Mate, that’s a terrible look. What’s going on in your head?” Simon was a douchebag when it came to women, but he was astute. And he was the only one who didn’t have a personal relationship with him and his wife. Ex-wife. Eve. Simon didn’t know the intimacies of the case. Maybe he would be a good sounding board.
That traffic really did look like hell. And there was a great sushi place inside. “What do think of raw fish, man?”
Simon turned a little green. “I think it sounds perfectly horrible. We Brits believe in frying our fish, thank you very much.”
“You’re not in England anymore, buddy.” He would learn. “Come on. Lunch is on me.”
They walked back inside, Alex’s brain turning around and around the whole time.
Alex picked up his cell, hitting a number he hoped still worked. Simon was sitting at the table, a pint in front of him. The Brit didn’t have a problem drinking his lunch, but he actually had a fairly cool head when it came to business. They’d spent an hour and a half discussing the upcoming op, and Alex was feeling better about it.
“Petty.”
Alex couldn’t help but smile a little. Petty sounded every inch the FBI agent. Serious and just a little bit pompous. He’d sounded that way at one time. “Hey, Warren, how’s it going?”
There was a little pause. “McKay?”
“Yeah.”
“Holy shit. Alex fucking McKay.” A little slap came over the line. Warren had always smacked the nearest hard surface when he was surprised. “What the fuck? How long has it been?”
So freaking long. “At least three years. How is the wife?”