“You aren’t sending me onto a heavily guarded yacht with Moreau.She’s not a field agent.Putting a desk jockey in that situation is a suicide mission.”He kept his tone even despite the wash of sheer adrenaline coursing through him.
Before Jake could respond, Marielle banged her mug down on his desk, pointedly ignoring the coaster to set it directly on the burnished wood.Then she unleashed a rapid torrent of what Omar could only assume was French profanity.
Marielle’s heart thudded.Shewasn’tan operative.Omar was right about that.But his reaction served as a flame, heating her icy fear to a hot anger.How dare he dismiss her as incompetent?
She shook from a combination of fright and fury.Part of her wanted to tell Jake he was out of his mind, that there was no way she was going to infiltrateanything,let alone a yacht protected by a half-dozen armed goons.The other part of her wanted to make Omar eat his words.When she and Olivia had gone through their agent training at The Farm, Liv had told her she had two wolves inside her: one wolf that wanted to kick someone’s butt, and another wolf who didn’t want to ruin her manicure.
Jake watched her impassively as the two wolves inside her battled it out.She glanced down at her nails.She was due for a polish change anyway.
She lifted her chin and focused on Jake, ignoring Omar.“I can do it.”
“Of course you can do it.I wouldn’t have assigned you to the mission if you couldn’t do it.”He was talking to her but looking at Omar.
“Why not Olivia?”Omar asked.
Marielle twitched her lips to the side.Honestly?She was wondering the same thing.
Jake leaned back in his chair and ticked off the reasons on his fingers.“One, a blue-eyed blonde is going to stand out on a boat full of Tunisians.Marielle will at least blend in—she’s passed for Leilah before.Two, there’s reason to believe the information we’re looking for is in Arabic or possibly French.Olivia’s fluent in Chinese and Spanish.Marielle’s fluent in French, and your Arabic is passable.”
She allowed herself a smirk at Jake’s faint praise.Omar was bilingual.His Arabic was beyond impeccable and they all knew it.But that’s what you get for challenging the boss.
Omar gave a defeated sigh.“What’s our cover?How are we getting on the boat?”
“You’re a wealthy couple on a romantic getaway to Mallorca.Arrange to run into Idris and his party when they dock in Palma.Ingratiate yourself and wrangle an invitation to join them on their Palma-to-Marseille leg.Get the data and when you disembark in Marseille, we’ll have an exfil team waiting.”
Jake kept talking.Or, at least, Marielle assumed he did.She was no longer listening.Pretend to be romantically involved with Omar?No.Not happening.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Omar said.
She snapped her attention to him.His eyes were wide, and his eyebrows were knitted together.He looked as unhappy and worried about this idea as she felt.
“Why not?”Jake wanted to know.
“Well, for one thing—we’renota couple.And while I know Elle went through agent training, that was a long time ago and she’s never had to adopt and maintain a cover.It’s not that easy, West.”
She found herself bobbing her head in agreement.
Their boss either tried and failed to hide his smirk or didn’t even bother trying.“But you’re clearly attracted to each other.Just lean into it.”
Marielle blinked.
Beside her, Omar stammered, “We’re not … that’s … we’re friends, Jake.That’s it.”
Jake narrowed his eyes.“Didn’t the two of you kiss?”
She felt the blood rush to her face.Omar turned toward her.“You told your friends?”
She had.But she knew they would never breathe a word about it.And she couldn’t admit it now, not when Jake had just accused them of being a gaggle of gossips.
So she lied.“No, of course not.Why would I tell them you rejected me?”
He gaped at her, incredulous.“I didn’trejectyou.Irespectedyou.”
“What?”
“It was a moment of heightened emotion.We’d been through hell.I thought?—”
But she wouldn’t find out what he thought because Jake interjected, “Trent told me.”
