“Okay, who wants to stop some bad guys?” Gabriel raised his hand.
The others nodded, raised a hand, or in Aiden’s case, flipped him off.
“All right, SSA Gage, you have our crew at your disposal. What are we doing?” Gabriel turned toward Nikki, and memories slammed into him. How many times had he asked her that? Looked to her for direction? This was how it used to work. Nikki manning the flow of information, priming the resources, while he got in the field and saved people.
For a second, there wasn’t anyone else in the room besides them. It was just like old times. She’d tell him what they were doing, urge him to be careful, and seal it with a kiss. A quickie, if he was lucky.
She wasn’t feeling it like he was. Her blank face told him he was the only idiot hanging on to what had been.
“I’m hoping we can decide the next steps together,” she said.
“Well, consider Miami PD behind you. Can I help?” Matt kept his distance, well aware there were things he couldn’t or shouldn’t see, but made no move to leave.
“I’d appreciate the help. To be honest, I don’t have the best relationship with the head of the local field office, so I’m not expecting a lot of support.”
“I don’t expect anything from them,” Matt practically growled.
“Then we’re on the same page.” Nikki’s smile was fleeting, and not aimed at Gabriel.
“What’s their deal anyway?” Matt asked.
“It’s—complicated.” Nikki wouldn’t divulge FBI gossip to someone without the right kind of badge. Too bad, so sad for the golden boy detective.
Gabriel curled one hand into a fist and envisioned punching the cop.
Yeah, so he still had a thing for his old flame. So what? Nikki was a remarkable woman; they just hadn’t been able to make it work.
Gabriel cleared his throat, and both Matt and Nikki looked back at him. “First thing, we should check the last known residences of all family ties in Miami. If someone has come home, they’ve probably made a visit to mom and dad. While we do that, Emery can start digging up more information, put some pictures with the rest of these names, get us some actual files going.”
“That’s what I was hoping you would suggest,” Nikki said.
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Julian chimed in, giving his leadership stamp of approval.
“I can have something by the morning.” Emery scratched the back of his head, lips curling into a frown.
“Fine. See you all in the morning.” Aiden strode toward the offices, shutting the door behind him with more force than was necessary.
“Anything we can do?” Matt edged closer to Nikki, and Gabriel took another step toward her.
“Keep an eye on local crime. Also, missing persons. If anyone reports a man, twenty-five to fifty, former military, flag them. Wilson is recruiting heavily, and these groups often have cultlike rules that cut people off from family and friends. Chances are they won’t have any idea where their loved one has gone.”
“Can do.” Matt grabbed a business card out of his pocket. “Where are you staying? Do you want me to send the information to you or to Emery?”
“Emery will probably be the point of contact for that. We still have details to hash out there. And I’m not sure where I’m staying yet.”
The skin along Gabriel’s spine prickled. Oh hell no, Dudley Do-Right wasn’t going to offer to help there, too.
“Hey, Roni, is your spare bedroom still empty?” Gabriel called across the garage to the twins, who had their heads together.
“Yeah. Why?” Roni frowned.
“Nikki needs a place to crash.”
“Oh. Can do.” Roni stared daggers at him. He would have to tread carefully in the shop for the next week or more.
“That’s not necessary,” Nikki said quietly. “I can get a hotel somewhere.”
“That’s going to look bad on us. You stay at a Hoover hotel, you’ll look like a Hoover. We have to do this whole gig in the context of our deep cover. So you have to live, work, and eat just like we do.” And why did he look forward to seeing her in his element?
Nikki had always pushed for more time in the field. She’d never fully understood the danger, and he’d instinctively pushed back to protect her. Well, now she was getting what she’d always wanted, and he had a front-row seat.
Chapter Three
Nikki rapped her knuckles on Roni’s bedroom door, imitating the same rhythm the woman had demonstrated to her.
“Think you got it?” Roni asked.
“Yes,” Nikki replied slowly. The Chazov twins’ file was an interesting read. “Why exactly am I doing this?”
“Because if you come through the front door and don’t signal you’re a friend, I’ll blow your brains out.” Roni grinned, but Nikki didn’t doubt a word the girl said.
“All right then. Anything else I should know? Trip wires? Traps?”
“Nah. You should be good. Come on. You’ll stay in here.” Roni pushed off the wall and crossed the condo. She led Nikki to the first room on the right and nudged the door open. “The furniture used to be Tori’s, but she doesn’t need it now. I figured having a spare place to crash would be handy. Looks like I was right.”
Nikki set her hanging bag on the bed. She was hyper-aware of her host, and already running a mental checklist on the signs of stress. People under deep cover like Roni sometimes cracked, and she’d had enough thrown at her to rattle even the strongest person.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to really meet your sister,” Nikki replied.
“Yeah, well, you probably won’t see her much.” Roni sat on the edge of the bed and wrinkled her nose looking at Nikki’s bag.
“Why’s that?” Did Nikki want to know? Or was this a topic riddled with land mines? She didn’t want to upset Roni if at all possible.
“She’s started helping Emery out. If we’re as behind the game as you make it sound, he’s going to want to keep her on hand to help research.”
“You don’t sound thrilled about that.” Nikki perched at the foot of the mattress and eased her feet out of the dress boots.
“Hey, it gets the job done faster. Whatever.” Roni shrugged. “Did you have any more luggage?”
“Nope. I travel as light as I can.”
“Uh . . . so, did you bring anything besides your Hoover-wear?”
“Hoover? What’s that mean? They said that earlier, but I didn’t want to ask.” Nikki stripped off the suit jacket, and instantly the sensation of sweating to death eased. It still felt as though she were breathing water, but at least she wasn’t about to die of heat exhaustion.
Roni laughed and partially unzipped the bag.
“It’s what we call you Feds. You’re Hoovers. Like the vacuum? You suck up all the time.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Look, I don’t want to tell you how to do your job, but do you really think you’re going to fit in with us wearing this?” Roni tugged on the lapel of another black jacket.
Nikki pressed her lips together. It had occurred to her, but the rest of her wardrobe consisted of sweatpants and hoodies. She’d become a stereotypical agent at some point in the last few years. No social life. Just work.
“I’ll take that as a no.” Roni studied Nikki. “Your boobs are bigger than mine, but I think I have some stuff that’ll work. Come on.”
Nikki stared after the redheaded woman sauntering out of the room. She’d never been in the trenches like this before. Her role was always a little more removed and a lot more official. She’d fought for this case the moment it landed on her desk, to be the person who took on this challenge. Was she going to let a five-foot-five redhead intimidate her because her fashion sense was nonexistent?
She stripped off her socks and followed in her host’s wake, luxuriating in the cold tile against her feet.
The master suite was larger—and covered in piles of clothing.
“Here. Try these.” Roni thrust a couple articles of clothin
g at her. “So your dad’s someone important?”
Nikki eyed the small garments with trepidation. These were going to cover her?
“That’s what people tell me.” Nikki stepped into the bathroom and shed her slacks and blouse.
“You read up on us?”
Nikki could see Roni’s reflection in the mirror. She flipped through a magazine. Everything about her posture was relaxed, and yet Nikki knew she had to answer the question very carefully.
“The basics, but mostly I talked to CJ. I figured he knew your team the best. I wasn’t going to trust René Merlo to brief me. What gets recorded is sometimes not a first-person account. And besides, personnel files are pretty black and white. They don’t tell me a lot about who the people are I’ll be working with. They mostly cover what you’ve done and where you’ve been. If you’ve decided to work with me, that is.” Nikki tugged the shorts down a bit, but there wasn’t enough fabric to go around. She frowned at the mirror.
“Damn, girl, you’ve got a booty on you.” Roni leaned against the door frame, arms crossed. Her smile was easy; whatever test she’d issued, Nikki appeared to have passed.
“These are way too short.”
“They’re called shorts for a reason. What’s Merlo’s deal anyway? Why’s he such a dick?”
“Merlo wanted to head up the undercover unit, and he got passed over for the job. Someone younger, and with better connections, got it. He’s never been able to let it go, even after he was promoted to chief of the Florida offices. The man has the biggest chip on his shoulder I’ve ever seen.”
“Tell me about it. We send them shit all the time that gets ignored.” Roni rolled her eyes. “Don’t know why. We just bypass them and send it up the chain anyway.”
“People notice. I’d be shocked if Merlo keeps his job much longer. I can’t believe it’s gone on this long. Do I really have to wear these? I don’t want to interview witnesses with my butt cheeks hanging out, thank you very much.” Nikki turned, presenting her bottom to the mirror, and once more tried to tug the hem lower.
“They are not. You’ve got a good two inches of clearance.”
“Oh great. Two inches to save my ass.”
Roni tossed her head back and laughed. “I like you.”
The way Roni said it, there was no doubting the woman’s mind was made up.
“Thanks. What did I do?” Nikki had no idea how she’d wrangle such an out-of-control team into some semblance of order to get the operation done. If she’d done something right, it would be nice if she could figure out how to do it again.
“I’ve known a lot of agents in my life, and you’re just different. Most wouldn’t have been so honest with us. Hell, we’ve had a few handlers over the years who thought they were slave drivers.”
“I can understand why they’d take a tough approach. You have a reputation.” Nikki turned around, presenting her rear to the mirror, and tugged on the hem again. “I can get some jeans tomorrow.”
“It’s summer. In Miami. Jeans are the last thing you want to wear. Trust me.”
“This doesn’t look professional.” Nikki gestured to her pale legs. At least she’d had enough forethought to get waxed before this trip, though she didn’t want to think about that choice too hard. It wasn’t like it was a habit these days.
“We aren’t professionals. That’s why you want us. We blend in, and for you, that means booty shorts and a tank top.”
“I want my suit back.” Nikki indulged in the whine, feeling she was justified this once.
“Well, too bad.” Roni leaned against the vanity. “What’s the deal with Gabriel?”
“Gabe?” Nikki blinked, thrown off-kilter by the sudden change of topics.
“Gabe?” Roni arched a brow at her.
“We worked together.”
“Seriously?” Roni cocked her head to the side.
Nikki wasn’t sure if she was relieved Roni didn’t know, or disappointed Gabriel hadn’t mentioned her.
“Yes. It was a long time ago.” Nikki turned around, surveying her appearance once more. If she wore a camisole it wouldn’t be that bad. And Roni was probably right, shorts would help her blend in.
“You aren’t going to tell me squat, are you?”
“Nope. Classified.”
“Fuck your classified.” Roni pushed off the door and walked through the bedroom into the living room.
Nikki stared at her slacks, torn between wanting more clothing and not overheating tonight.
What the hell?
It wasn’t like they were going anywhere. The only person who would see her right now was Roni.
She gathered up her clothes and followed in Roni’s wake. The condo was decorated in a hodgepodge of garage sale furniture that appeared rustic and a touch shabby chic. Mixed in were bright colors and an occasional plant to bring out a tropical vibe.
Roni sat perched on the kitchen counter, a pint of ice cream in one hand and a spoon in the other. She waved the spoon at Nikki, one eye squeezed shut. “Okay, so you clearly worked together, and I bet you were FBI then, too, which means I’ve been right all along and Gabriel really is the badass he seems like. But the way you two were staring at each other wasn’t exactly work appropriate.”
Nikki glanced around the room. What were the chances she could escape this conversation? She’d known her history with Gabriel was bound to come up, so the trick was controlling who knew what and how much of it. Better to go ahead and set the groundwork for the version she wanted shared instead of letting Roni come up with her own.
“We worked together for a long time and under some difficult circumstances.” Nikki leaned on the bar, soaking up more coolness from the marble countertop.
“Yeah, but what I want to know—”
Roni was interrupted by a distinct knock at the door, one Nikki had just learned.
“It’s me. Open up,” a man yelled.
Nikki gulped and clutched her clothes to her chest.
Roni waggled her spoon at Nikki. Roni jumped off the counter and crossed the room surprisingly fast.
“Hey, me, what’s the secret password?” Roni peered into the peephole and reached into what appeared to be an umbrella basket next to the front door, but Nikki doubted an umbrella was what she was reaching for.
“Roni, it’s Gabriel. I need to talk to Nikki.”
Roni twisted the locks and swept the door open.
Gabriel stood on the stoop, hands braced against the frame. The charcoal gray T-shirt stretched tight over his biceps and his hair was damp, as if he’d stuck his head under a faucet. He stared past Roni, like she wasn’t even there, and directly at Nikki.
“Got a minute?” he asked.
This was a mistake. A big, huge miscalculation. She could not face him. Not alone at least. She wasn’t even over him, as pathetic as that truth was.
“Sure. Give me a second to—”
“I’ll take those. Remember the knock.” Roni jerked the clothes out of Nikki’s hands, leaving her nothing to cling to.
She wanted to run away, to bury herself under blankets, wrapped up in his damn shirt, but she was better than that. As much as talking to him, seeing him, and being around him hurt, if she didn’t do this, she’d be stuck on him for the rest of her life. Maybe they could get past this. Perhaps she could move on.
“If you decide not to come back tonight, at least text me, okay?” Roni whispered.
“We shouldn’t be long,” Nikki replied.
Whatever Gabriel had to say to her, she doubted he’d take a moment more than he needed to. He had good reason to hate her still, and that was what still stung. He hated her, and she’d never gotten over loving him.
* * *
Gabriel held the door as Nikki swept out into the night, head held high. He was not prepared for a dressed-down version of his former girlfriend. It was easier to distance himself when she was dressed like a Hoover. In a suit, he could pretend she was someone else. Someone who hadn’t shared his bed and broke
n his heart.
Yeah, he’d had it bad for her, but he’d also moved on. What they needed was to clear the air, close that door and focus on the case. Their lives no longer intersected; they had no common ground. In a week or so, she’d be gone again and Gabriel could go back to working on his life after the FBI.
Nikki paused halfway to the car and glanced over her shoulder. The streetlight cast a halo of light around her. Her gray eyes held secrets so tight he’d never been able to really know her.
“What did you want to talk about?” she asked.
“Let’s take a drive.” He strode to the curb where he’d parked his 1967 Pontiac GTO. The Skyline wasn’t close to being street legal, so he’d stashed it in the back lot at Classic Rides and opted to take his other car tonight.
He kept his focus above her shoulders. Damn, but she’d filled out in all the right places. He’d always had a thing for her “bubble butt,” as she’d called it. Whatever shape it was, she’d fit his hands and against his body just fine.
“Is this yours?”
“Yeah.” He pulled the passenger door open and held it while Nikki sat.
He took the moment to survey the quiet street. Nothing out of place, nothing suspicious. As it should be.
Gabriel circled the car, clearing his mind to the best of his ability. Where Nikki was concerned, it was messy and complicated, but perhaps they could move on from what they’d been to each other. She was an amazing woman, regardless of how she’d broken it off with him. Besides, they had to work together, and his crew had elected him their handler’s watchdog.
The GTO roared to life and he smiled.
“You have some upgrades.” She ran her fingers over the chrome dash he’d had built just for this car. The others could have their restored beauties. He liked the look, with all modern conveniences.
“Yeah.”
Her completely neutral tone grated on his nerves. Once, she’d relaxed around him, let loose, laughed, cursed even. If they were going to talk, well, she’d have to bring down that stony front and be real with him.
Gabriel pressed his foot to the accelerator and shifted, whipping the car around the way he’d come and urging it faster. Any sound Nikki made was drowned out by the engine, but he didn’t miss how she clutched at the door with one hand and clung to the seat with the other. He took perverse joy in pushing the car to perform just to hear her suck in a breath when he passed between cars, weaving his way closer to the ocean. He didn’t have any real idea of where he was going. He’d lost all sense of what he was doing the moment he’d walked into the garage and seen her. She was a lighthouse and he the ship lost at sea for years now, content to drift with the tide. She reminded him of a time when he had a purpose he could believe in.
Chase Page 3