The Puppeteer - By Tamsen Schultz Page 0,9

to come to some conclusion.

“It's unlikely my director will reassign me,” was all she said.

“And why are you so adamant about ignoring what happened last night?”

The only indication that she'd heard him at all was her sudden stillness. And then she spoke. “Last night was personal.”

“Very personal,” he said.

She ignored him and continued. “And work is work. They have nothing to do with each other.”

“Personal is personal and professional is professional and never the twain shall meet,” he offered.

“I hope that's not a problem for you.”

It was, but he wasn't going to tell her that. He understood the situation. It wasn't that he was blind to the problems that could happen when colleagues became romantically involved. But depending on how things progressed, he also wasn't one to use the ‘problem’ as an escape hatch.

“Here,” Dani interrupted his thoughts by pointing to a driveway all but hidden by landscaping. He pulled in and stopped at the gate. Dani gave him a code to punch in.

“If you're alone, use the code we just used,” she directed. “If you're traveling with someone authorized to be here, add a one at the beginning. If you happen to be traveling with someone who isn't authorized to be here, add a one to the end, before you press the pound sign.”

He glanced at her to make sure she wasn't joking with him, hazing the new guy. Between the gate and the four cameras he saw hidden along the shrub-covered fence, it was a hell of a security system for a DEA sting.

“The house is a private home that has been loaned to us,” she explained. “The system was a standard, code-based system but the two additional features were added by our team. We've got good people and expensive government technology on this case, we want to make sure we protect all the assets.”

“And everyone is based here?”

“It's a big house.”

He wanted to ask how the DEA managed to get the wealthy owner of a prime, ocean-view estate to ‘loan’ the house out but, as they made their way up the winding drive, he just closed his mouth and stared.

Ty had a few investments and had done well for himself over the years. His salary wasn't much, but his investments more than made up for it. He considered himself a fairly wealthy man with a nice loft and a few small properties scattered around the country. But he had never seen anything quite like the house looming in front of them.

The place—the grounds and the building—was huge. The house itself was a combination of traditional Colonial, with an Italian influence, and easily over ten thousand square feet. With a façade of white, painted brick, it was more along the style of the Hamptons or Newport than the cute summer cottages of Southern Maine. Long, black shutters lay open and lined each of the tall and numerous first floor windows. Matching shutters lined the windows on the second floor and half of the third. The other half of the third floor was all glass and looked to be some sort of sun room. In a more traditional Maine house it would be a widow's walk where, in days past, a sea captain's wife would sit and watch for her husband's ship to come in. But this was unlike any widow's walk Ty had ever seen.

“Park in the garage around the corner,” Dani directed, pointing the way.

He pulled to the side of the house and saw a discreet five-car garage. From the front of the house, the garage looked like another room on the first floor. Modern convenience meets old-world charm.

He pulled into an empty bay and killed the engine.

Dani moved to exit the car but he held her back with a hand on her arm.

“Is this your usual boondoggle? Whose house is this?”

Dani laughed. He'd heard her laugh last night, but this was the first time he had heard it since they had met this morning. Maybe because the genuineness of it was such a juxtaposition to her cool control, or maybe because it reminded him of last night—either way, he liked it. A lot.

“No,” she said shaking her head. “It's not our usual boondoggle. Usually we cram into a couple of dirty hotel rooms in the parts of town most normal people like to pretend don't even exist. But none of us are complaining now, that's for sure.” She smiled again, slid out of her seat, and headed for the trunk.

“Wait,” he said as she grabbed her

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