He showed the paper to Jax, who blew out a whistle.
“But look at the fine print . . . your fifth visit to A Róka is half off, and your tenth is free,” she said with a small laugh.
Leo read the letter out loud so the team could hear the instructions. He was to return, or whoever he wanted to retrieve the information was to return, and bring the token.
“Now the question is . . . How long do we wait?” Leo asked anyone who had the answer.
“Forty-eight hours,” someone said in his earpiece.
“Plenty of time. And if Friedrich doesn’t bite, we look elsewhere,” Olivia said.
Leo looked behind them to find the surveillance van following, all the while wondering how Olivia handled waiting on the sidelines while someone else was in play.
CHAPTER THIRTY
“Next time, I’m going with you,” Olivia said the moment she and Leo were alone in the hotel. Listening in on the conversations in the nightclub was not the same as being there.
“I agree.”
“I can’t sit in a van.” Olivia’s arms were crossed over her chest.
“I agree.”
“No one will recognize me.”
“I agree.”
She stopped talking and looked up. “You do?”
“There were a lot of people in there, and not one stopped what they were doing to strike up a conversation. Jax and I didn’t recognize anyone, but that might be different for you.”
Olivia took a deep, fortifying breath. “I’m out of my comfort zone.”
Leo pulled his arms out of his jacket and set it aside. “The fact that you admitted that means your comfort zone has shifted.”
And that felt like a weakness.
Leo’s cell phone rang.
She watched as he looked at his phone and ignored the call.
“Who was that?” she asked.
“Fitz.”
Olivia paused. “You’re going to lose your job.”
“Always a possibility.” Leo smiled and set his phone on one of the bedside tables.
“I thought you liked your job.”
“Love my job. I hate the bureaucracy. I see how much gets done with Neil’s team, and it makes me question what I’m doing with the FBI.”
“You don’t like playing by the rules?” Considering there were many nights she’d dreamt of working for a legitimate organization, it was strange to know Leo would want it differently.
“Most of the rules are in place to keep the bad guys from having a loophole for a get-out-of-jail-free card. When I saw what Neil’s team managed to do for Marie Nickerson, I started to question what I was doing with the feds.”
Olivia leaned against the hotel room desk. “I spent months shadowing Marie. Reported to Neil on who visited her. Names, occupations . . . That girl is so broken.”
Leo offered a soft smile. “You protected her. All of you did.”
“The FBI had a hand in that, too.”
“Yes. But with you . . . it’s personal. It shows in the outcome. When I had time to think about what Sasha told me about you, all of you, I realized you were a victim—”
“I don’t deserve that title.”
“You do,” he insisted. “And as long as you allow me to be in your life, I’m going to remind you of that. If Neil’s team had been around when you were nineteen, this never would have happened. So when you ask me if I’m going to lose my job, I can’t help but feel as if it doesn’t matter. There is obviously a private sector where I can use my skills. Where we can both use our talents.”
Listening to him gave her something she never thought she’d ever feel.
Hope.
Leo started to pull at the skin on his head that gave him the false hairline, and she moved closer to help. “I’m unsure how an FBI agent and a retired assassin are supposed to have a relationship without me getting fired.” He sat in a chair, giving her more room to work.
Her fingers shook as she fiddled with the edges of the wig. “A relationship.”
“That would be that thing we’re doing. The sharing of our time, ideas . . . bodily fluids.” His hands rested on her hips.
Olivia trembled as she cleared the makeup from Leo’s face. “I’ve never had a relationship . . . with a man.”
He grinned. “Is there something about your sexuality you want to share?” he asked, teasing.
“You know what I mean.”
Leo kept her from turning away. “I know you’re scared.”
“I never said I was scared.” Her voice was sharp.
Leo smiled. “You’re scared that you give a shit. Probably beat yourself up every time you slow down enough to think about it.”