My phone buzzed while I was still stretching and trying to decide what to do with my weekend. “Hello.”
“Hey,Aingeal. Sorry about last night. How about a ride today?” Aiden asked.
I sat up. “Sounds fun. Where to?”
“I thought I’d show you the office in Spokane before I went completely under. Sources tell us that Barensky is still in Denver but is heading this way soon, so this is probably the last couple of days we’ll see each other for a while,” he said.
I rolled my neck and tried to ignore the panic that created inside me. “All right. Sure. I can be ready soon.”
“Good.”
My doorbell rang.
I paused. “Is that you at the door?”
“Yep, and I brought lattes,” he said.
I jumped out of bed and hustled to the door, almost as happy to see the coffee as I was Aiden. Almost. I sucked it down and hustled to get ready, wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and a light jacket. Within thirty minutes, I perched on the back of Aiden’s bike, helmet on, feeling the wind all around us.
There was no other feeling on Earth like riding behind Aiden on his bike with my arms around his waist and my helmet turned against his broad back. It was wild and free, safe and sexy.
I loved it. Had from the first time he’d taken me on a ride, and at that time, I hadn’t even known he was on the right side of the law. In fact, there had been ample evidence that he had not been. I didn’t care then, and I was happy now.
We rode right through town to I-90 and continued to the older part of Spokane, closer to Gonzaga University. Aiden parked in front of a white columned house that had been turned into an office building with mature trees all around providing much needed shade. I whipped off the helmet and took a good look at the flowerpots hanging on the front porch. “This isn’t the ATF office.”
“Yeah, they didn’t really want us there, so we rented our own office for the SRT.” He held out a hand to assist me off the bike and then hung my helmet from his handlebar. “It’s better since we’re undercover, anyway. Come see it.” He took my hand and led me along the quaint stone path and up the wooden steps to the front door.
We walked inside, and the older wooden floor creaked. A massage place was to the left, an accounting firm to the right, and A&E Holdings were straight ahead. He led me to the A&E Holdings door, unlocked it with an old key, and we stepped inside a vestibule with two chairs, a sofa, and a round table holding flowers. One door lay on the other side.
“We have the back suite as well as the entire second floor.” He grinned and locked the outside door before heading to the second door, where he slid a wooden panel out of the way and punched in numbers on a keypad.
“All right, James Bond,” I murmured. “I take it you guys did some modifications.”
“Saber did,” Aiden affirmed. “The guy is a genius with security.” The door snicked open and he gestured me inside.
I moved past the flowers and into what looked like a control room. Large table, monitors on the walls, computer consoles on the table. Three doors led in different directions.
Aiden pointed. “To the left is my office. On the other side of that wall is a kitchen area with windows looking out back, and to the right is a locked ammunition room. The upper floor holds more offices for my team as well as another conference room.” He moved to his right and lifted a blind to reveal a case board with Barensky in the middle, a blank face with a question mark next to him, and Sasha on the other side with a question mark as to who murdered her. “We need to find out who hired Barensky and who killed Sasha—and if the two cases are related. There’s a chance they’re not, considering her track record of putting away criminals.”
I perused the space and tried to concentrate on the danger. “Considering she was killed at my place, doesn’t it seem like somebody knows about you and your connection to both Sasha and me?”
He nodded. “Yes, in which case, we have to consider that Barensky already knows we’re ATF. In the alternative, there’s a chance that Sasha was followed to your house by the killer, so it might not be Barensky.”
My throat went dry. “If you think your cover is blown, how can you continue?”
“How can I not?” he asked, looking dangerous next to the case board. “Even if it is blown, Barensky is acting like it isn’t, so I have to do the same. He’s creating explosives for somebody, and so long as I can keep him somewhat close, we have a chance to stop it.”
I shook my head. “It’s a game of cat and mouse within a game of cat and mouse.” I couldn’t do it. All my life, I’d been an upfront type of person who didn’t play games. “How do you do this? Stay sane with so much intrigue and danger around you?” This was real.
“It’s my job,” he said simply.
For the first time, I didn’t like his job. “If Barensky killed Sasha, you might be next.” I wiped my hand across my eyes. “Or if somebody from one of your cases in the past found her here, they already know you’re here, too.” It was too much. If you didn’t even know who the enemy was, how did you protect yourself?
He reached for me and enfolded me in a hug. “This isn’t my first time in this position, Angel. I know what I’m doing.”
“So did Sasha,” I murmured, my voice muffled against his chest.
“I’ll keep you safe, baby.” He ran his warm hand down my back.
