I start to wonder if I’m in way over my head with this assignment. Perhaps Declan should have put my partner, Gray, on this assignment. He’s the tech genius.
Coming out of my thoughts, I find Owen watching me as I frown at the computer.
“Something wrong, Miss Riley?”
“Nothing’s wrong. In fact, everything’s perfect!” I chirp.
God, I sound like an idiot.
His lips quirk, turning up into a half-smile. “Did you eat?”
His question throws me a bit, and I look at the clock on my computer. It reads 3:30 pm.
My eyes widen, and I shake my head.
“Here,” Owen says, standing and walking the short distance to my desk.
He deposits a small, brown, paper bag on the tabletop and waits, arms crossed, for me to open it.
“You didn’t need to give me your lunch,” I say, reaching for the bag.
“It’s not mine. It’s yours.”
I scrunch my nose, peering into the bag. There’s a perfectly wrapped sandwich inside next to a receipt. Angling my head, I read it. Owen did, in fact, order two different sandwiches.
“How’d you know what I like?” I ask, pulling out the sandwich and unwrapping it.
Owen’s half-smile turns into a full one, with that annoying, charming dimple and, what I imagine is, his usual mischief. “I don’t. I got you my favorite.”
I stare at the Italian sandwich made on a French baguette, burrata cheese spilling down the sides, and my mouth waters. He may not know my favorite sandwich, but damn does this one look good.
Owen chuckles at my reaction and moves back to his desk, grabbing his coat. “I’m off to a few meetings for the rest of the day. Feel free to leave whenever you need to.”
With that, he’s out the door, and I’m no closer to finding evidence or even a lead. What’s worse: my traitorous brain is actually starting to think this man is a decent human being.
But that can’t be right.
“How’d the first day on the job go?” Declan’s familiar voice comes through the cell phone I have pressed between my ear and shoulder.
In an apartment that agents use as a safe house in San Francisco, I make myself a quick bowl of pasta with sausage. The place looks out over the Bay Bridge and is furnished but sparsely decorated. If you didn’t look closely, you’d think no one lived here.
It’s no home.
“Can’t say it was easy,” I reply, “though I’m grateful to not have to fear a gun to my head every five seconds.”
Declan chuckles. “No, you’ll just have to check your coffee every morning.”
It was meant as a joke, but I’m not sure what to make of that.
He continues, “How can I make it easier?”
Thinking, I pour through what I’ve learned about him and the company over the last eight hours before replying. “He’s pretty secretive and observant as hell. He won’t be easy to deceive. I’m likely going to need hackers. I don’t think he’ll willingly give me access to his phone records and emails.”
“You can be pretty convincing, you know.” I hear the amusement in Declan’s voice.
“Not with Owen. I don’t think he likes the fact that his employees picked someone who looks like me. As I told Ella, I think we made a huge miscalculation in what he likes.”
“You’re saying he doesn’t like pretty women?”
