He sat back in his seat, head cocked as he studied her. “You’ve been profiling everyone here.” He wasn’t observing her, he was measuring her.
She schooled her expression. “You brought me in blind. Curiosity is a predictable response.”
Amusement flickered across his face. “What do you think of us?”
She calculated the answer he was looking for: a guarded response with vague undertones.
“Nice place. Nice people. Should be a great op.”
“You just gave me the equivalent of a Yelp review.”
She realized she had to give him something substantial or they’d be sitting here all day. “I can eat pizza by the pool. The bedrooms are decent-sized. When you turn on the light in the bathroom, no cockroaches scatter. And the toilet doesn’t feel like it’s going to fall through the floor.”
Amusement flashed in his eyes. But his silence was prodding for more from her.
What she didn’t say was…this was a lot to take in. The team—and the women—felt like a big family. She’d never experienced that and didn’t expect to in her lifetime.
Con arched a brow. “So…four? Five stars?”
“Four,” she breezed out. “Nothing’s perfect.”
He nodded as if that answer satisfied him. After another long pause, he leaned forward. “Your handler isn’t here. You don’t have to watch yourself.”
Forcing down her own reactions was second nature, but she still concentrated on keeping her shoulders in a relaxed pose.
“What are you getting at?”
“Just like you did, I’m getting a read on you,” he said easily. “On what you think of us. Because you’re going to be out there with my special operative. And Sinner’s important.”
She met his gaze, unblinking and unflinching.
“I read your file. It says you’re not a team player.”
She had to choose her words carefully. “I could be a team player. If I ever felt there was a team that had my back.”
The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was deliberate. Con was good at interrogation tactics, she’d give him that. He was giving her space to talk and reading between the lines when she didn’t.
“You have the FBI at your back.”
She issued a soft snort. “They only have their own backs.”
“You’ve never had anyone in your whole life.”
“I did once. But he’s dead.” She didn’t soften it. Didn’t dress it up.
“Smith?” His gaze drilled into her, mining for some reaction from her.
Her breath hitched before she could stop it. Her eyes flared wider, just for a split second before she regained control.
He knew about Smith.
And just hearing that name tossed out so casually, like people mentioned the man every single day, sent a twinge of pain to her chest.
Smith. Not a day passed when she didn’t think about her friend. He’d saved her more times than she could count.
But in the end, she wasn’t able to savehim. She’d failed him.
She carefully swallowed around the lump in her throat, forcing the memory back into the box.
