One-Knight Stand (White Knights #3) - Julie Moffett Page 0,68

while she was distracted. But as she waited, tapping her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, the light remained red. A man in a dark coat walked by her car on the sidewalk, suddenly slipping an envelope under the windshield wiper on the passenger side before walking away.

“Hey!” she yelled, opening the car door and standing up. How annoying were advertisers these days?

Sighing, she retrieved the envelope from beneath her wiper. It had her name in block letters printed across the front. A chill ran up her spine, and she watched the man turn the corner, disappearing from sight.

She looked back at the envelope when the cars behind her started to honk. “Come on, lady! Get a move on,” the guy in the car behind her yelled out his window. The light had finally turned green.

“Sorry,” she called out. Still gripping the envelope, she climbed back into her car, tossing the envelope on the passenger seat. A few miles down the road, she pulled over in a strip mall parking lot and stopped.

It was against standard procedure at the NSA to open mail without it being screened, but she had a hunch. Using a metal nail file from her purse, she slit open the envelope. There was a single piece of paper inside.

She pulled out the paper, smoothing it open with her fingertips. The note contained specific instructions as to how and when to contact Ethan Sinclair.

She put the paper in her purse, trying not to be disquieted by how much he knew about her and her routine. Technically, she shouldn’t be that surprised. Of course he’d studied her, especially if he was going to risk his life trusting her.

She let out a breath and headed back to the road. She had one more stop to make before going into the office.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

ANGEL SINCLAIR

It took Wally and me a combined effort of four hours and four minutes to slide into Protex’s security system. That meant we were ready to launch Operation Bug Remington first thing in the morning.

We headed out just as dawn was breaking. Since it was Monday morning rush hour, the traffic in the neighborhood was active. We were parallel parked down the street in Wally’s car, within view of Remington’s house, but not too close. Wally had driven, but he and Mike had switched positions in the car so Wally and I could coordinate our actions on the security system from the back seat. As soon Remington left for work, Wally and I opened our laptops to begin monitoring Remington’s security system from the inside.

“Frankie, Mike, are you guys ready?” I asked.

Frankie pulled the light-brown wig onto her head, adjusted it, then placed a wide-brim hat on top of it. Sunglasses, jeans, a blue coat, and a stack of paper—with only the top one advertising the bingo game at the fire station this Thursday—completed her outfit. Just two kids handing out bingo flyers in the neighborhood.

“I’m ready.” Frankie gave me a thumbs-up and got out of the car.

Mike pulled a ball cap low over his face, adding a pair of sunglasses. He wore a black coat and jeans. He gave me a thumbs-up, as well, and joined Frankie on the sidewalk.

“Here we go,” Wally said.

We watched Frankie split from Mike near the garage and march straight up to Remington’s front door. She opened the storm door and stuck the flyer between the doors.

Wally whistled softly. “That’s my girl. She never raised her head toward the camera, and she looks perfectly legit. She’s a pro. How is Mike doing?”

Mike had darted to the side of the garage and placed the jammer in the adjacent bushes. He then went to work on the garage door’s electronic keypad. He slipped a small screwdriver from beneath his coat and popped open the top to the pad. In one fluid motion, he took out the battery and replaced it with a dead one before snapping the keypad shut.

Frankie met him in the driveway and they walked back to the car together. The whole thing had taken less than two minutes, and as far as we could tell, no one had seen anything.

I backed out of the security system as the two of them climbed into the car.

Frankie removed the wig from her head, shaking out her hair. “So, how’d I do?”

“Perfect,” Wally said. “Nice work, both of you.”

“Now, let’s just hope this works,” I said. “The jammer should prevent the signal from the garage door opener from raising the door, and if