She held his gaze for an extra beat while warmth spread through her.
So ready.
“Ready?” she asked. “Ready to take them out? Ready to home-in on our targets? Ready to go dancing?” She shot him a little smile. “What’s your poison, Rambo?”
His smile—albeit brief—was breathtaking. “Talk strategy.”
“Gotcha. It could be any number of things, but I’m going to narrow it down so we don’t get overloaded with options. Let’sassume they have access to the buildings. They could be smuggling in the components and assembling the bombs there.”
He nodded before forking in a mouthful of rice.
“Another option. That network of corrupt government workers—and don’t get me started on their lack of allegiance—is bringing in the supplies and building the bombs for the terror cell. Or they’re stashing them somewhere for them.” She stared at him for several seconds. His penetrating gaze took her off her game, so she pushed out of the chair, started pacing. “What about a drone drop of the bombs?”
“DC air space is heavily protected,” he pushed back. “They’d have to be sophisticated craft capable of carrying large explosives that go undetected by radar.”
“Rule that out?”
“I wouldn’t chase that one.”
“Got it.” She pursed her lips “When I got assigned this job, I was escorted into an underground parking garage at Langley. I didn’t even know it existed.”
“A network of tunnels under the buildings?” he proposed.
“What do you think?”
“Not my first choice,” he replied. “What else you got?”
“The guy from ATF, Jerod De Clerq, was obsessed with blowing things up. Maybe the Haqazzii cell isn’t. A red herring?”
He drained the water, pushed aside the empty plate. “If the bombs are a distraction, what’s their real target?”
“No idea.” She pulled her hair into a bun that she clipped to the top of her head.
When she lifted her arms, he glanced at her breasts. He was lightning fast, but he’d snuck a peek. She’d been eye fucking him all afternoon and was thrilled he wasfinallyreturning the favor.
“You seem preoccupied,” she said, not being able to pass upan opportunity to give him a hard time. “Do you need a minute?”
His gaze stayed locked on hers, the heat in his eyes searing her. “No.”
She pulled the tourist map off the table. “Are we making this our war room?”
He closed the laptop, slid it into his backpack. “We’ll work in an office.”
Ten minutes later, they’d set up at the completeotherend of the hall from Dakota.
“You know,” she said as she tacked up the tourist map, “I don’t even need to ask why were squirreled away down here by ourselves.”
He stopping pinning the terrorist photos on the cork wall and nailed her with a fiery gaze. “Why’s that?”
“You work alone and don’t want anyone breathing down your neck?—”
A rumbling growl rolled from his chest. Maybe he wantedherbreathing down his neck.
I can do that. No, no I can’t! Ohmygod, focus.
Turning away to hide her flushed cheeks, she eyed the map. He stood beside her, dwarfing her in size—she was five-seven in heels—and the intense power thundering off him kept her anchored by his side.
She’d never spent this much in-person time with him. Despite the time crunch and the destruction these terrorists were threatening to cause, she was the happiest she’d been in a long, long time.
