Bruno’s gaze rose to the rearview mirror, met her eyes, then slid back to the road.She snapped the compact case closed.
“Um, yeah.Just giddy—from the bubbly, I guess.”
“Mmm.”He eyed her, unconvinced.
She smiled broadly and hummed under her breath.She’d tell him, but not now.Later.Well, maybe.She trusted him.Of course she did.
But the flashing light was a coded message from Olivia.Not from the Potomac team, but from her friend.Liv had used neither the covert communication device Potomac had provided nor the agreed-upon cipher for this mission.
She must have charmed someone on the technology team—Cal, most likely—into wiring the makeup compact as a second covcom unit.Snarky Cal McCloud famously liked no one—with the single exception of Olivia Santos.And she’d used the iterative cipher they’d devised to send each other personal messages all those years ago during their initial agent training with the CIA.
The message wasn’t officially related to the mission, either, Marielle reasoned.Once deciphered, the flashes spelled outwhat, like it’s hard?An obvious reference to the classic chick flickLegally Blondeand the main character’s bold, but ultimately warranted, confidence that she could crush something she wasn’t qualified to do.Olivia was telling Marielle that she had this, and her friends had faith in her.It was an expression of sisterhood.
So there was no reason to share this message with Omar.And really, why mention the compact covcom at all?There was a covcom sewn into the lining of his roller bag, easily accessed with a few snips of fabric.
By the time Bruno brought the car to a smooth stop in front of Kusa, a silver crescent moon hung over the jewel-box restaurant and Marielle had convinced herself she was completely in the clear ethically.Bruno opened her door, and she emerged from the Mercedes with her shoulders pulled back and a playful smile on her lips.Omar joined her under the restaurant’s canopy while Bruno arranged with the valet to leave his station to take care of their matching suitcases.
“Enjoy your evening, Mr.and Mrs.Irfan,” he called before returning to the car.
The valet led them past two bodyguards, one stationed on either side of the door.If they were trying to be discreet, they were doing a terrible job.They both stood stiffly, as if they were guarding Buckingham Palace rather than the entrance to a small, chef-owned restaurant.Their dark suit jackets were tight enough that the bulge of their shoulder holsters was evident.
They exchanged a look as they followed the valet inside, where he handed them off to the host before whisking their bags away to secure in a coat closet.
“Welcome to Kusa,” the host said brightly.A fair blonde with pale blue eyes, she spoke lightly accented English.If that wasn’t enough to tag her as one of Mallorca’s many German ex-pats, the name plate on the host stand read ‘Heidi Müller.’Her expression fell slightly as she continued, “I’m afraid your table isn’t ready yet.”
“Oh, that’s no problem.We know we’re a bit on the early side,” Omar reassured her with a grin.“We’re just so excited about Peruvian fusion cuisine.We’ve heard such wonderful things from our friends.”
“Maybe we could have a cocktail at the bar while we wait?”Marielle chimed in.“I’ve been told we have to try the Vermut Mutaner.”
Heidi smiled warmly, but her eyes flicked over Marielle’s shoulder to the glassed-in bar to the left of the entrance, elevated by three wide steps and her smile faltered.“Um … yes, the vermut is divine.There’s a semi-private gathering in the bar.I’m not certain ….”
Omar placed a warm hand on the small of Marielle’s back, and they turned to follow the host’s gaze.Two more black-suited, expressionless men stood on the top step, just outside the bar.Beyond the guards, a four-top on the far end of the room was occupied by two couples.Two men clad in linen pants and polo shirts sat at the blond wood bar, whiskey glasses in hand.
“Please wait here one moment,” Heidi said before traipsing across the entrance and up the stairs to the bar.
Marielle expected her to consult with the bodyguards.Instead she gave them a short nod, then pushed open the door and stepped into the bar, where she approached the two men on stools.
“Huh.”Omar’s expression of mild surprise echoed her own feeling.
“Are those guys the last two bodyguards?Maybe someone taught them how to blend in?”she suggested.
He shook his head.“No, standard procedure for a six-man detail would be two out front, two keeping the high-value individual in sight, and two out back to prevent an attack from behind.Guaranteed there are two more, probably getting in the way in the kitchen and mooching food under the guise of tasting for poison.”
“Sounds like the voice of experience speaking,” she teased.
“I can neither confirm nor deny.”
She was mid-laugh when he leaned down and brushed a feather-light kiss on her exposed neck.Her skin tingled under his mouth and she instinctively rose on her toes to loop her arms around his neck.
“The men at the bar just looked over.Wanted to make sure they see newlywed lovebirds,” he whispered, his breath ruffling her hair.
“Right,” she managed.
His hand, no longer on her back, rested on her hip, pulling her close.She arched her back to see his face.His eyes were dark, liquid pools of desire.She shivered and tried to remember how to swallow as she gazed, transfixed, at him.
The clatter of shoes against tile broke whatever wild spell had fallen over her as Heidi hurrying toward them.
“Thank you for your patience.The party who reserved the bar graciously agreed that we couldn’t deprive our Canadian visitors of our delicious vermut.So, please go enjoy a cocktail while you wait for your table.Lucia will take good care of you.”Relief washed over her face.
