I made my way to the shower and was under the hot spray within moments of stripping.Please let us not get another call. I need to come down.
Someone else stepped into the shower and started humming tunelessly.
Marlon.
Krish had once—tactfully—suggested that maybe being silent in the showers would be acceptable.
Twitty Marlon had lost his temper and thrown a hissy fit.
Since none of us wanted Chief to come down on us, we opted to stay silent.
I’d watched Krish’s back until the furor had died down. Seriously, one would think we’d asked Marlon to make…some great sacrifice or something.
Instead of lingering, I finished washing up and hopped out. I was sore as fuck, but that was as much about the stress and adrenaline that’d been running through me as any physical exertion. I’d done exactly what I was supposed to. Textbook perfect. I was glad rookie Toby had been along for the ride so he could see what a successful extraction looked like.
After putting on jeans and a department T-shirt, I spent about ten seconds drying my hair. I added gel and then beat a retreat since Marlon had started singing louder. His voice was so terrible that I didn’t even recognize the song he was massacring.
Sigh.
I rounded the corner to the smell of lasagna and the sight of a familiar man standing next to Giancarlo.
Ulysses saw me and grinned. “I understand you’re to be congratulated.”
“What are you doing here? This is a private area.” I tried to keep my tone neutral.
And apparently failed since Giancarlo shot me a warning glare I’d have had to be extremely dense to miss. I arched an eyebrow.
Ulysses’s smile broadened. “I got permission.”
I was about to ask from whom when Miriam popped her head out from the kitchen. “First come, first served, and the reporter’s joining us. To get a sense of our work, right?” She gave him a bright smile.
Sheesh. Everyone’s fucking smiling tonight. And I should’ve been as well. Except I’d been trying to keep a clear delineation between Ulysses and work. He was asking too damn many questions. Questions for which I either had an answer I didn’t want to share or, worse, didn’t.
“Lovely.” I pasted on my best smile as we made our way into the kitchen.
The tomato sauce scent assailed me, and I inhaled deeply.
“Hero gets first piece.” Miriam handed me a plate with a massive slice.
I was hungry enough to eat it—and probably a second serving. Lunch was a long-distant memory.
“And guests after that.” She handed Ulysses a plate. “Sit close to Finn.” She cast me awhat the fuck is wrong with youlook I was well-familiar with.
“Yes. It’ll be lovely. I’ll be stuffing my face.” I put the plate on the table and made my way to the counter. “Water for everyone?”
I got a bunch ofyes, pleases. Polite bunch tonight.
After setting out water for everyone, I took my seat. Across from Ulysses. So I could look into those mesmerizing eyes and remember how sore he was able to make my ass when he drilled me hard—just the way I liked it.
He put a forkful of pasta in his mouth as he held my gaze.
Surely there must be some kind of rule…like conflict of interest?
Except we weren’t paying for his meal. Weren’t bribing him. Weren’t attempting to sway him so we could get better coverage.
“I got some great shots of the accident. Not of personal trauma, of course.” Ulysses swept his gaze along the table.
“Were you supposed to be that close?” I tried to picture the scene in my mind. The crushed cars, the highway littered with debris—
