“I’m so sorry. This isn’t what I wanted to happen,” Jack said, and she saw the heartache in his eyes, his guilt that he hadn’t told her sooner.
Her hand rose to touch his face, needing to reassure him. “We’ll get through it together,” she said, tilting her chin to find his lips with her own. They met with a soft passion that flashed hot, and need arced through her, more potent because of the danger they’d have to survive. His hands tightened on her, but he pulled away first, even as she reached for more.
A heady emotion flickered over his face, reassuring her that they could do anything together. “We find the key players?” he said, and she nodded. They’d plumb the depths and find out how far the corruption went—or die trying.
And if all else failed—she was a damned special ops agent. She knew how to lie.
CHAPTER
EIGHT
“The mic is at the thick end, see?” Matt said, his fraternity ring glinting on his chubby finger as he held the pliable wire out. Silas took it, slumping in the folding chair at the stupidity of it all. The SWAT-size van smelled like his first college apartment, and the snap of ozone, electronics, and locker-room BO curled his lips. He felt cramped even sitting in the oversize aisle, and the faint but insistent electronic whine of the floor-to-ceiling surveillance equipment went right through his head.
It didn’t help that he was mentally exhausted after an afternoon of putting his life on a shelf for who knew how long. Despite everyone’s belief that it was a three-hour job, Silas knew better. Acquiring her might take one night, but to bring her back successfully would take longer.
“On its own, it has a reach of about four feet,” Matt was saying, and Silas tuned out the slightly overweight tech geek, almost embarrassed at his enthusiasm. “That’s why you need the phone, see? Just coil it up in a pocket out of sight? and the phone will boost it to me.”
Just kill me now. Silas’s gaze slid to the white slab of plastic beside the duffel they’d prepped for him, the oversize phone looking out-of-date and clunky. “All the way out here to your van?” Silas said, but Matt didn’t recognize his sarcasm. The tech’s tie was loose about his neck, and the black pants and white shirt screamed off-the-rack. His index fingernail was notched to snap nicotine caps.
“It’s mostly one-way, but if we have something need-to-know, we’ll text. No wires behind your ears to give you away. Nice, huh?”
Silas sighed. His fingers were too big to hit the phone’s tiny buttons. Texting would be a pain in the ass. “Can I use my phone?” he asked, and the curly-haired tech started, aghast.
“No!” he blurted, as if Silas was being stupid. “It’s not just a phone. It’s full of stuff you need! God! Why do they keep sending me newbies?”
Silas rubbed his aching head as he imagined what Matt had wedged into the tiny bit of outdated electronics. Tracker, certainly, addresses for safe houses, contact numbers, and apps to find the nearest coffee shop. But it was too small for him to use, and if he tried, she’d realize he was something he wasn’t. Besides, his phone was glass, the technology light-years ahead of what the alliance had.
“Keep it,” he said, and Matt fell back into his rolling chair, vexed. “I’m not wearing a wire.”
Matt filled the silence with downing his Dew, making it into a show of frustration and disdain. “It would be better if you wore it. Sir.”
“Why don’t you just hang a sign around my neck saying ABDUCTOR?” Silas said, his voice growing louder. “You don’t think she’s going to see the buttons are too small for me to work? She is a finely tuned piece of paranoid intuition.”
“Only because we made her that way,” Matt said, and Silas leaned in, shoving the wire into Matt’s front shirt pocket.
“Then maybe I don’t want you hearing what I have to say. Everything you’ve given me is old tech and no-name brands. No one buys this stuff because it’s military crap. I’ll stick out.”
Expression dark, Matt pulled the wire out and dropped it into Silas’s open duffel. “That imported coat of yours will stick out worse. And the wire doesn’t need to be showing,” he added angrily. “It’s designed to coil up in a pocket. That’s why you need the booster.”
Impatient, Silas glanced at his watch. It was almost six. He’d been here an hour, and his first impression that they were going to get her killed hadn’t changed. “I didn’t say she’d see it,” he said, scanning the van for anything useful. “I said it would give me away. If I need you, I’ll call. On my phone. You have the number, right?”