Page 33 of Deep Cover

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Caryssa was grateful Reid wasn’t the one going to sweep the office with her. They’d end up in a compromising position before they got to the destination.

Rorke strode ahead of her, moving at a fast pace through the tunnels. As they neared a closed door at the end, he stopped and turned to her. A hood that he’d pulled out of nowhere dangled off one finger.

“Ready for this again?”

“Are you the one who put it on me last time?” She arched a brow at him. “Without even a hello?”

His lips quirked. “That was Townie.”

Now she was even more satisfied that she’d knocked him on his ass that first day in the kitchen.

“Well, Townie could use some manners. But don’t bother with the hood.”

“It wasn’t a request.”

“I meant really—don’t bother. I already know where we are.”

Her claim hung between them while Rorke stared at her, saying nothing.

“The Sierra base is under the Montclair ski resort,” she said. She’d connected enough dots by now to know Sierra was part of Blackout, and Echo was another team within it.

His jaw dropped. “No way you were given that information.”

“No one needs to give me anything. I took it for myself.”

Something shifted behind his eyes. “So you got it out of Rivers when you slept with him.”

What a dick. She was reconsidering whether Rorke actually was the better option for her escort.

She folded her arms. “I got nothing out of him.”

He gave her a look that said exactly what was on his mind.

She shifted her shoulders. She’d made this bed—literally. She could damn well own it. If the guys were going to clap Reid on the back for what happened between them, maybe somebody ought to congratulate her too instead of having double standards.

“I figured the location out on my own. I’ve got the clearance and the skills to cross-reference a truck driver’s delivery route with a ski resort’s public land records. Give me a little more credit.”

He stuffed the hood in his coat pocket again. “We’re going to have to crack down harder on security.”

The humor had disappeared from his voice.

Caryssa studied him. “You really don’t trust me.”

“I don’t know you.”

“You know Reid trusts me.”

“That’s Reid.” Rorke stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Blackout’s got a bigger problem. We don’t know who inside the agencies we can trust anymore.”

She couldn’t argue with that. Too much information had moved through too many hands already, and every time they thought they understood the trail, another piece disappeared.

“I have clearance,” she said.

“Clearance tells me what you’re allowed to know. It doesn’t tell me where that information goes after you know it.”

That stung more than she wanted it to.