“You got it.” He unfurled a small knife from his keyring and opened one of the boxes.
“Are you allowed to open that?” she said, following him. “It’s addressed to a Clive Hartmann.”
“You’re worried about postal theft now? It’s one of my mother’s codenames for me.”
“I can’t believe you live in a family where you have codenames. No, scratch that, I can believe it.”
“I asked her to order us some clothes, among other things,” he said, pulling out the contents. “I think these ones are for you.” He held up a pair of lacy panties.
“Omigod. I mean, I really want to change my underwear, but that seems to be the equivalent of not wearing underwear?”
“My mother is subtle about a lot of things, but not when it comes to me and women.”
“She must be desperate if she’s trying to set you up with the woman you basically kidnapped,” she said, picking outmore clothes. “I’m gonna need more scaffolding in this bra. It wouldn’t hold up a marshmallow.”
“Why don’t you try it on, and I’ll give you a second opinion?”
“I think I liked you better when I was the one pulling the strings.”
“Hey, I’m your wooden toy soldier come to life.” He stepped up behind her, caught her around the waist and nuzzled her neck. “What would you order me to do?”
She pulled away, but not before her body responded as if the next step was a foregone conclusion. “Are you calling my characters wooden? Ah, I wish she’d sent shoes. These boots of Nika’s are making my feet throb so hard it’s like a dance party in there.”
Carter pulled a laptop from another box and switched it on. He opened a browser and searched for “Leonard Poole.”
“Whaddaya know? Our friend Leonard is ex-CIA, now owns a one-man tech consultancy. But here’s the thing: he was formerly in IT at Langley, according to his ‘about me’ page. No mention of any overseas postings. So what’s he doing chasing me with a gun?”
“Could he have fudged the details of his résumé? You’re not allowed to talk about what you did in the CIA, right? Maybe it’s the same with him.”
“An IT guy? They’re not usually involved in the clandestine service, not on the ground, anyway.”
“Does he have social media? When he was running back into the hotel, he shouted out to someone called Wade. We could see if they’re connected?”
“Let me see,” Carter said, typing. “He’s friends on social media with a Tyler Wade.”
“Really? Lookhimup.”
“Also ex-CIA. A former security guard at Langley.” He typed a little more. “Can’t find what he’s doing now.”
“Why are the IT guy and a security guard coming after us?” Alice said, wandering to the lounge area. She sat on one of two overstuffed white sofas and started to take off her boots.
“And are they connected to these guys in the sedan, or is that a different lot?” Carter said, watching her. “Here, let me help you with those.” He prowled up to her like he had at the cabin, his dirty grin leaving deep imprints on either side of his mouth, and slipped the boots off one by one, which was surprisingly erotic.
“In my limited experience,” she said, “when a man offers to help a woman take off her boots…”
“Thishappens?” he said, climbing onto the couch and kissing her, and for some reason she let herself be maneuvered until he was lying on top of her and she was kissing him back. Huh—for some reason? She knew exactly what the reason was. The reason was that this made her feel good.Hemade her feel good. And if this was going to be a short-term thing—because what else could it possibly be, no matter how this turned out?—she would make the most of it. Take what she wanted, for once in her damn life.
And she did just that, with a hunger that made him laugh out loud.
Later, after they’d helped themselves to cheese and crackers in the kitchen and showered in the en suite bathroom, they began to dress in the fresh clothes.
“You’re right,” he said, popping his head through the neck of a gray T-shirt that was indistinguishable from his previous ones, “that underwearisthe equivalent of not wearing anything. You might as well save on laundry and walk around naked.”
“You realize your mother’s plan is working perfectly?”
“For God’s sake, don’t tell her that.”
“Does she know that you’re unavailable for relationships?”
