She left the bedroom and found him in the living room going through some of her papers, her laptop open.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to get some—” He turned to look at her and just stared at her. “Oh, I see. You are a street fighter, dirty pool type of bird.”
She gave him an innocent look, then nudged her chin toward her papers.
He sighed and turned back to them. “So, your code name is Stormbird? That fits.” His flippant tone angered her more than it should.
“Oh, shut up, Dodger.”
He rose from the couch and faced her. “I see it’s time for the argument.”
“Yes. I’ve been thinking about this since last night. You’re going back to your op, and I will handle my own situation without your help.”
“Anna, that’s bloody stupid. You need me.”
“No, I don’t,” she bluffed. “I’ve done this job since I got out of college, and I’ve been in hairy situations before and weathered them just fine using my training and expertise. I was shaken last night, but in the cold light of day, I’ve got to figure this out.”
“I don’t want to leave you like this. In danger.” The air sizzled with tension as he folded his arms across his wide chest.
Anger licked through her, and she started toward him, her whole body trembling. “Don’t you see? I’m in danger if you stay with me. Fast Lane isn’t going to just sit on his hands and wait for you to come back. He’s going to be actively looking for you. He could even get the CIA involved. I can’t trust anyone right now. Not Kelly Sparks, not Fast Lane, no one. Not to mention, after Paraguay, he’s going to be in hot water if your op goes sideways. It could end his career. Do you want that on your conscience?”
“It’s better than seeing you dead, Anna!” His eyes blazed, the veins in his neck distended in fury. He jammed his hands on his hips and tipped his head back, his breath rapid.
Unsettled by the anguish in his tone, she fought the tightness in her throat. Okay, maybe she had been wrong. He did care about her. But it still didn’t matter. “You know I’m right. You’re just scared and concerned. But we both have jobs to do.”
He bent his head and rubbed at his eyes with one hand. “I can’t do it.” He took a hard breath. “But I have an alternative suggestion.”
She groaned. Was she grasping at straws because even though she was confident, she was also scared as hell?
“This could get too complicated, Dodger,” she whispered. “Max told me how fragile your team is. Lying to them wouldn’t be the best-case scenario. You wouldn’t want to lose trust with them.”
“Not to mention my man-love.”
“Be serious,” she said.
“I think it’ll work. Hear me out. Besides, simple is for sissies.”
Dodger bought the burner phone, and as soon as he left the electronics store, he called Fast Lane. He’d reluctantly left Anna in the apartment. He had no idea what his LT was going to say or do. He was going to text her either good or bad and she would know.
“Where the fuck are you?”
“LT. I can explain everything, but I need to talk to you privately, in person. Can you meet me at Chase’s Bar? I’ll be in the back.”
“This had better be good or I will bust your ass.”
“It’s a goatfuck, but if you don’t agree with me, you can bust my arse.”
“Ten minutes.”
Dodger breathed a sigh of relief. Fast Lane trusted him enough to hear him out, and that was at least something. He stepped off the curb and headed down the street, his head on a swivel. No one paid any attention to him, nor did anyone follow him. He used all the tricks in the book to discover a tail.
He was in the clear.
He arrived at the bar, grabbed a beer so he wouldn’t look suspicious, and settled into a table in the back as the guys there left. The bar was crowded, live jazz music playing, but it was dim and loud. Just what he was looking for.
Almost to the minute, Fast Lane showed up with a beer bottle in his hand. He set it on the table and sat down.
Fast Lane took one look at his face and his brows rose. “Are you all right?”
“I’m brilliant.”
“Not from where I’m sitting. What is going on?” he growled.
He explained everything, not leaving one detail out from