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She would know. She and Theo both were CIA case officers. Thankfully my time in the CIA had nothing to do with spy shit. I was a trigger puller—less bullshit, more adventure.
As uninterested as I was in Maddon Judd and Charlie Michaels now that we knew he was of no risk to Theo’s woman, I was very much interested in what we were going to do about Nebraska Michaels.
“What are we doing about Nebraska?”
“Nothin’.”
Zane’s answer was like a sucker punch I didn’t understand.
“Nothing?”
Zane’s gaze focused.
“Don’t let those pretty blue eyes and all that soft you think you see under her hard exterior fool you. She’s a fixer, same as her mother. She’ll sell her services to the highest bidder. Women like that have no loyalty. And right now, she holds more power than I’m comfortable with. Until we understand what she wants and what she’s willing to do to accomplish her mission, she’s on her own.”
“Kira, can you get me the files on the prison riot and Paulo Alves?” Smith asked.
“While you’re at it,” Jonas started. “Send me the Maddon file.”
“I’ll take the Charlie Michaels file,” Theo requested.
“Well, I’d say send me what you have on Nebraska but I’m not feeling like getting into hand-to-hand combat with Easton while I’m wearing my favorite tee, so I’ll take the Candy Apples file.”
Cash was a smart man. I might’ve loved him like a brother but I had zero issue punching him in his ugly mug to get my hands on Nebraska—or her file.
“Tomorrow morning, eight o’clock, we’ll brief.” Layla okayed our self-appointed assignments. Part of what made her such an effective leader was she didn’t micromanage. We were grown-ass men, used to doing big boy things with little to no direction. Now that we weren’t out in the wild working our cases how we saw fit but instead working within the parameters of Z Corps she treated us no differently—same big boy rules. As long as the work got done, she didn’t care how.
“I’ll track her movements and dig into her mother.”
I wanted to ask Kira to keep me updated on Nebraska’s location but refrained.
For a reason I wasn’t willing to dissect, I hoped she hadn’t been sent in to reenact her mother’s play.
It would seriously suck if she turned out to be the enemy.
SIX
“Please tell me you didn’t do the one thing I always warned you not to do,” Stella, my friend-slash-part-time-enemy said in my ear as I made my way outside of Miami terminal.
Why did it always have to be hotter than Satan’s breath in Florida? No, it was Arizona that was hotter than Satan’s breath. Florida was stickier than a working girl after an eight-hour shift in the red light district. Any RLD, country be damned.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I lied.
“Hmm,” Stella hummed. “Want to catch up and have dinner tonight?”
“I can’t. I’m hoping to meet up with Walter, grab my cover, and jam.”
There was a beat of silence which was good since I wouldn’t have heard her over the blaring horn of a truck trying to wedge its way to the curb while a Kia wasn’t looking where it was going and almost backed into the pickup.
Why were people so damn impatient?
And rude.
No one liked to be stuck in airport traffic.
“Promise when you get back you’ll make time for me.”
This was highly unusual. Stella had never asked me to promise her anything. The same way I’d never asked her to make me a promise. Like me, Stella wasn’t prone to keeping her word. Not unless you were someone she’d pledged her allegiance to—then I could see her making vows and keeping them. But as far as I knew, Stella’s only loyalty was to herself. Not that I blamed her; she’d been burned and hung out to dry by the very organization she’d once committed her loyalty to.
