She rolled to face him and trailed her fingers through the light dusting of hair across his pecs. “No arguments,” she said. “I know I have to change my thinking. Can I at least get a cookie for that?” she grumbled, earning her a smile.
He nuzzled her nose. “The whole damned pack of cookies, baby.”
“You’ll be doing more stuff though, won’t you?”
He grimly nodded. “Yeah. Peyton offered to bring in Da’von to help, but I don’t want him involved in this part. Once he graduates and they move here, he’ll be working with Trent and Gillian on the ‘mundane’ business stuff.”
“And you’re scared of Nami skinning you alive if you were to have him do other stuff,” she teased.
“Fuck yeah, I am.” He smiled. “Seriously, having him take that work off my shoulders will be a huge help. I can focus on the rest of this bullshit.” His smile faded. “Don’t be surprised if Peyton silos information again, okay?”
Her gaze narrowed. “Why? I know everything now. Don’t I?”
“I meant me,” he gently said. “I told him I’m okay with that.”
She looked away. “I don’t know if I am.”
He gently caught her chin and turned her head so she had to meet his gaze again. “I’m sorry, baby,” he said. “But that’s a choice you don’t get to make for me. My job will be logistics, support, and intelligence, not boots on the ground. Physically, I will not be in danger. But I will be traveling to the UK and elsewhere as needed.”
“I don’t like that.”
“Didn’t say I liked it, either,” he said. “But I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get rid of these fuckers.” He smiled. “And then I get to be a happy househubby and raise however many babies you want to have. And I’ll enjoy changing every dirty diaper, cleaning every puddle of blurp, all of it.”
She finally laughed, burying her face against his chest. This impossible man, this amazing love.
This incredible coincidence.
Maybe the Goddess is real.
Chapter Sixty-Five
Peyton
They were two hours early for the meeting. Peyton worked on the assumption that someone was tracking Miranda Segura’s movements.
Most likely her father.
Meaning someone would be here before her, and likely tracking her, too. So they’d be even earlier and keep an eye out.
“Everyone in position?” Peyton asked.
“Yes, sir,” Alvarez replied.
“Can’t wait to get my ass back to the States,” Jake muttered. “I change hemispheres and I’m still speaking fucking Russian.”
Peyton snorted. “You’re almost home,” he said. “And technically, you’re only pretending to be a Russian. I might need to bring you back here, but we’ll all be on a plane to Seattle tonight. Then we’ll get you to Florida.”
They had two hotel rooms, one in the name of Ilya Baranov and one right across the hall registered as John Smith, positioned so they could see through the peephole if anyone approached the room. He’d Primed the clerks to allow people to know Ilya’s room number if asked.
Because if anyone asked, they would be a prime suspect for them to follow up with.
They were not occupying either room and had installed a camera on the inside of the peephole of John Smith’s room, with a motion detector.
And Alvarez was currently stationed in a hotel room on the other side of the plaza, with a clear view of the outside dining area and the other hotel’s lobby doors. He had both video and still cameras with telephoto lenses, so they could figure out who followed her and hopefully use facial recognition to identify them.
They fully expected Jake to be followed upon leaving the meeting. He’d use a verbal signal to give Alvarez ten minutes to get into position to follow him.
Peyton would also leave ahead of Jake and station himself in the hotel, in the John Smith room, in case Jake was followed, so he could take the person down and question them.
