“You—” I started. “You’re . . . I . . . what . . .”
“Cat got your tongue?” She smiled, and there was mischief in her eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re not used to pretty girls with brains.”
“I’m not—I mean, I am—” I stopped, aware that I was stammering like a schoolboy. “Fuck me.”
She laughed—a warm, genuine sound that made the professor glance up from his notes.
“You should see your face right now.” She leaned closer, her perfume was intoxicatingly floral and expensive. “Relax, love. I don’t bite. Unless you ask nicely.”
Heat flared into my cheeks.
I opened my mouth, but words refused to come out.
This was not how I had expected this meeting to go.
“You missed me?” I managed, though it came out more strangled than lovesick.
“Of course, I did, silly. You know I love you more than breathing.” She squeezed my hand, still playing the devoted lover for anyone who might be watching.
The waiter delivered my coffee and took her order, struggling to lift his gaze above her ample bosom. Once he’d vanished again, she leaned in and nibbled my earlobe.
“Ow! What—”
“You really aren’t very good at this, are you?” She whispered between nips. “Just pretend you’re in love with me so we can talk. It’s not hard.”
She chose that exact moment for her hand to wander a bit too high up my leg.
“Oh.” She giggled with glee. “Itisthat hard.”
I nearly leaped up from the table.
“Oh, Hans. I really have missed you,” she said, loud enough for our audience. Everyone—including those working in the café—was failing to hide just how rapt their attention was on our little act. I didn’t think I’d ever been so embarrassed oruncomfortable.
“Now,” she crooned in my ear, this time licking rather than biting. “What can we do for you? I have two beefy men and one skinny one who can shoot the eyes out of a hawk from a thousand yards.”
When her tea arrived, she blew the waiter a kiss and took a dainty sip. I used the moment of aural freedom to wipe away the remnants of her love, then grab her offending hand and raise it to my lips. “We need protection for a meeting two days from now.”
“Who’s meeting?”
I hesitated. Compartmentalization was basic tradecraft. She didn’t need the full picture, and we were sitting in a public café. Still, she also needed to understand the stakes.
“A Swiss asset who has information that could prevent a significant . . . event. She needs to get that information to a general who can act on it.”
“An event.” Her eyes sharpened. “Care to be more specific?”
“No.”
She studied me for a moment, then smiled. “Fair enough. I respect a man who knows how to keep his mouth shut.” She leaned closer, her fingers forming legs and walking up my chest. “Where and when?”
“The location is still being arranged. The general is cautious. He won’t commit until he’s sure it’s not a trap. It’ll be somewhere in Bern, sometime in the next forty-eight hours.”
“That’s ominously vague.” She cupped my cheek, then reached down, lifted her cup, and pretended to take a sip while speaking over the rim. “And you need us to make sure your asset gets there and back alive.”
“Yes.”
“How many hostiles are we talking about?”
“Unknown, but they’re well resourced, well organized, and they’ve already killed multiple people connected to this asset. If they find out about the meeting, they’ll try to stop it.”
