he knew they were being watched. Not because he knew every word was being recorded. But because her expression, that flicker of hope and the slash of regret he felt as a result of it, clogged his throat.
When she sidled up next to him and purred, “You were phenomenal too,” he took it for what it was. A ploy. He responded with a disbelieving grunt. Her lashes fluttered. “Well, you were. I just…I just wanted you to know that.”
“Thanks.” Only a hint of sarcasm.
She put out a lip. “You should know, I’d decided not to follow up on the story.” This, she murmured. He doubted even the mics caught the comment, but he heard it, and it made his belly roil. Because shit. If she was telling the truth, he felt like a dick. And if she was lying—which she probably was—it plain pissed him off. She was caught. She was captive. She knew she was in deep waters and would say anything she could to make it easier on herself.
“Because I’m such a phenomenal fuck?” Okay, more than a hint of sarcasm. His words were laced with bitter vitriol.
Her wounded expression haunted him. He reminded himself she was a reporter. Lying was her stock in trade. Playing people was second nature to her.
A tiny little voice mocked him, because the same could be said for him.
He ignored it.
The elevator doors opened onto a long, narrow hall bathed in a flickering fluorescent light. He took her arm and led her to the meeting room near the end, their shoes squeaking on the polished vinyl. But for that, silence enrobed them.
But Sterling knew, beyond those mirrored windows was a beehive of activity. And their every move was being watched.
He opened the door to the conference room and guided her in, gesturing that she take a seat. She glanced around at the white board, the TV in the corner and the long, scarred table, and she quirked a brow. “Hardly what I expected,” she said.
“What were you thinking?” He sat next to her; there was no need to notify anyone they were here. They already knew.
She shrugged and readjusted her sweater. “Secret villain lair. Wall of computer screens. A thousand analysts scurrying around.”
“Sharks with fricking laser beams attached to their heads?” He liked that he could make her smile. Even at a moment like this.
“A bald cat at the very least.”
“We keep all that at our secret base in the volcano.”
“Good to know.”
Her grin faded and silence settled between them. It wasn’t comfortable in the slightest, but at least he didn’t have to suffer it for long. The door pushed open and Chrome and Steele filed in. Their expressions were grim.
They sat across from Sterling, and Steele tossed a file folder on the table. “So. What do we have?” he said.
Sterling pulled her phone from his pocket and slid it across the table along with her wallet and press pass. “National Snoop.”
Chrome drummed his fingers on the table. “The alien-baby folks?”
“We do much more than that.” When Steele pinned her with his indomitable stare, she added, “Starlets. Political scandals. Deadly diets… The whole gamut.”
“And this?” Chrome’s tone was clipped. But then it would be. To him, she wasn’t a soft, warm woman with a delicious and spankable ass. She was a threat to everything he cared about, his world. Still, it nearly made Sterling wince.
“This?” she quipped, tipping her head to the side.
Chrome held up the phone, open as it was to the incriminating evidence. “This story. What heading does it fall under?”
To her credit, she didn’t wilt beneath his scorching glare. Sterling knew the look, the expression, the vibe. Chrome was ruthless when it came to protecting his own, and this was definitely his ruthless face.
“Black-Ops: Danger in the Desert?” He hated the thread of mockery in her tone, because he knew it would just egg Chrome on, and it did. His eyes narrowed in a way that would make a hardened soldier piss his pants. But Roni merely met it with a smirk. “Backwater Blackwater? All Your Secret Base Are Belong to Us?”
It took everything in Sterling to hold back a bark of laughter. This wasn’t funny.
But it kinda was. He loved her sense of humor, especially in the face of insurmountable odds.
Neither Chrome nor Steele shared his amusement. They certainly didn’t appreciate her Zero Wing reference. But then, only a select portion of the population would even get the jibe, obscure as it was. He wasn’t sure what it