His arms encircled her.One hand stroked her hair; the other rested on her hip.His lips brushed her temple as he breathed, “Three.Light fixture above the bed.Crown molding by the window.The cleverest one is set into the door’s peephole.”
Four cameras total.Every angle of the bedroom was covered, but the bathroom presented an opportunity.
She pulled back to look up at him even though she immediately missed the comfort and warmth of his body pressed against hers.“I’m exhausted,” she said at normal volume.“But I’m too wound up to sleep.Take a bath with me?”
His eyes widened slightly as he cycled through emotions—surprise, understanding, appreciation for the suggestion.
The white noise of running water would cover their conversation.The tub’s position, if she remembered correctly from her scan of the bathroom, offered a blind spot from camera.The only drawback was the prospect of, well, taking a bath together.
“Perfect end to the night.”His voice sounded … weird.She gave him a close look, but he smiled reassuringly.
In the bathroom, she ran the water in the enormous tub while he turned the hot water on full blast in both sinks and the shower.Steam began to fill the space, clouding the mirror-TV and, she hoped, obscuring the camera’s view.
Omar shed his shirt in view of the camera, and Marielle tried not to notice his defined abs, already glistening with moisture from the hot steam.They sat on the edge of the tub, close enough to speak quietly under the cover of running water.
“So,” she said quietly.“Four cameras that we found.Could be more.”
“Could be,” he agreed.“Probably are.Even if not, at a minimum, they can see and hear everything we do in the main room.”
“Which means we can’t plan.Can’t discuss the mission.Can’t even have a real conversation without an audience.”
“No.”His jaw was tight.“We’ll have to stay alert for opportunities.And we have to stay in character at all times, play our parts so well they never suspect we’ve noticed.”
“For how long?We dock in Marseille what, late tonight or early tomorrow?”
“The day after.”
“Two days?Why?”
“We’re in a hurry, but they’re having a leisurely boating trip.Idris isn’t going to push it.”He met her eyes.“Can you do this for two days?”
She considered.Forty-eight hours of constant performance, constant awareness, no privacy, not a moment to let down her guard.Forty-eight hours of pretending to be in love with Omar while sharing a bed with him, touching him, kissing him when the performance required—all under the watchful eye of the cameras, six armed bodyguards, and two highly trained federal agents.
Marielle the data geek would have said no, argued for aborting the mission, or demanded they find another way.Marielle the undercover operative smiled.“Piece of cake.”
But she wasn’t thinking about the data they’d been sent to find.She was thinking about Hanna’s downcast eyes, the way she flinched when Idris touched her, and the careful, measured way she chose every word.Marielle had once watched someone she loved fall into an unhealthy relationship, and she’d promised herself she would never again make the same mistake.
While her reasons for seeing this assignment through might not be the same as Omar’s, her commitment was just as real.
“I can do it.”
“Elle—”
“I can do it,” she repeated, more firmly.“But we need to check in.The covcom in your bag?—”
“It’ll be risky to have it.The team didn’t bargain on this level of surveillance.If we’re caught with it, the whole mission is blown.”
This is the part where you tell him about the compact in your clutch,she thought.
Tell him about the covcom that wasn’t on Potomac’s official equipment list.They were partners, and they needed to trust each other completely.Of course, she should tell him.
But she didn’t.
Maybe it was the cameras watching even now, waiting for a slip.Maybe it was some instinct that said keeping one card close to her chest was smart tradecraft.Maybe she just wanted one thing that was hers alone.
Whatever the reason, she kept it to herself.Instead, she whispered, “It’s worth the risk.”
He nodded and turned off the water.
