And thanks to a night of too much liquor in Amsterdam four months ago, Rick happened to know Max and Helena were seeing each other. The idea of calling a man that lethal a boyfriend struck Rick as absurd, so he didn’t. But who was he to question true love.
She rolled her eyes. “Max is impossible.”
“That’s because he’s sleeping with the boss.”
“He likes that part.” She lifted her eyebrows. “I think he finds my power sexy.”
“Don’t we all.”
“Speaking of which, play nice with Seth.” She poked a finger into the center of Rick’s chest. “I mean it.”
“Oh, I plan to.”
“I need real-time reports. You know where you need to go to make them.”
They had the communication issue resolved. Nothing could pass through the usual consulate channels. They had to assume the wrong people were listening in and watching at all times. It was the only way to ensure they didn’t tip off the killer.
“We’ll figure this out.” Rick believed it, so the words weren’t hard for him to sell.
“Or die trying.”
“That really should be the CIA’s unofficial motto.” He half wondered if it was.
“You concentrate on your job. I’ll handle the CIA.”
Sounded like a good deal to him. “You’re leaving Munich?”
“I’m visiting another office with a new consular officer. Seemed like a good way to throw off suspicion.” She shook her head. “So, it’s just you and Seth until Nathan gets here. That okay with you?”
Yeah, again, that sounded wrong. The strange note in her tone made Rick nervous. “More than you would think.”
Chapter 6
Seth checked on Rick throughout the day. Walked in and out of his office, waiting for the guy to get ticked off. Yeah, he tried to tweak the new consul general’s temper but he never did. Rick stayed smooth and calm.
The exact opposite of Seth.
All that buzzing around the office allowed Seth to pick up a few things. Most interesting was the fact that the current staff hadn’t been all that impressed with the recently deceased consul general, but they didn’t get Rick at all. There seemed to be a question about his qualifications, which made Seth laugh since Rick’s qualifications were obviously fake. Or most of them were.
He studied the thicker, more helpful file on Rick that Helena dropped off before heading off to whatever city she traveled to next. She also promised to come back and “check on him.” Seth took that for the threat it was.
He flipped through the pages, scanning every word as he tried to learn more about the man who wouldn’t leave his head. By the time he circled back to Rick’s door at the end of the day, it stood open and he walked right in, shutting it behind him.
He pretended to read from the file in his hands even as every detail ran through his mind. “Undergrad at Princeton. Master’s degree from Georgetown.”
Rick didn’t even look up. “That sounds familiar.”
“It should since it’s about you.”
“Yeah, I actually know where I went to school.”
Seth whistled. “Such an impressive background.”
Rick put down his pen and stopped reading whatever information was in front of him. He also took off his glasses as he looked up. Seth thought that was a damn shame because the glasses finished off the whole hot-geek look Rick worked without even trying.
“What’s impressive is I finally paid off my student loans.” He smiled. “I can afford to eat again.”
Okay, that smile was just smokin’ hot. Seth tried not to be derailed by it or the shoulders or the amusement in Rick’s blue eyes. This was an informal intel gathering conversation. Seth’s plan was to gain the information Helena left out of the file since he would guarantee there was some.
“You don’t have an accent.” Which was kind of a shame. Seth wondered what a slight Southern drawl would sound like on Rick.
His eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”
“For a guy from Kentucky, I mean.” And not the city either. No, the file suggested Rick was from the country—hills known for the meth trade and little money. That only made Seth want to know more about him and how he ended up in a consulate in Germany.
“Are you really reading my résumé?” Rick glanced to his left, then to his right. “I’m sure there’s a magazine around here that might be more interesting.”
He’d memorized the damn thing, but why be technical about it. “You speak three languages.”
“Five.”
“Aren’t you the overachiever?” Seth pretended to scan the document again. “According to this, you’ve spent most of your time in an office.”
Wariness showed on Rick’s face and in the way he sat there, stiff and unmoving. “I give up. What exactly are you reading?”
“Helena’s report now that she finally gave me a decent file on you.” Seth walked farther into the room and dropped the file on the corner of Rick’s desk. “It’s bullshit.”
“I dare you to tell her that.”
No way. He wasn’t a complete dumbass. But he was intrigued.
He sat in the small uncomfortable chair across from Rick. “What were you before this? And I mean really. Not just what your cover says. Not your cute desk jockey line.”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t understand the question.” Seth no longer bought the performance. Rick already admitted to spending some time in the field. Now Seth wanted to know the real story.
Rick lifted his hands in what looked like mock surrender. “Spell it out for me.”
“I’ve been in the Special Activities Division for a long time and never been assigned to protect a consul general.”
“Lucky me.” The phone buzzed and Rick hit the intercom button. “Hold my calls.” After the line disconnected he motioned for Seth to continue. “Please.”
Every gesture and every word, from the way he sat to how he kept from fidgeting or showing much in the way of facial expressions, suggested an extreme amount of personal control. He didn’t give anything away. Didn’t show a spike in temper even if one hit him.
Whatever his training, it had been damn good. This guy could almost pass as one of the SAD team members. He seemed to have the tactical knowledge. Seth wasn’t clear if he had the lethal training.
Seth spent his days surrounded by sharpshooters, parachute jumpers and expert swimmers. They had every skill set covered. People who could be tied up and dumped upside down in a burning helicopter and escape. People who quietly took out rebels and restored order. Rescued the military’s best when they got trapped or taken hostage. Did it all without fanfare or press coverage. The best the famed CIA training facility, The Farm, and government spending could produce.
“I know desk jockeys. I also know suits that get passed up the chain of command because someone owes them something. I can recognize the appointments that pay off political favors and the overseas postings that are about it being someone’s turn.” Other words, harsher words, came to mind but Seth kept the tone neutral. “And, Rick, I know the black-ops types who man desks. That’s not you.”
“I’m not a political appointment.”
Talk about evasion. “Was that my point?”
“Apparently not.”
Rick stayed almost spooky still. The whole act, close to perfect, made Seth want to analyze the guy, dissect him. See what was spinning through that sexy head of his. What happened to make a man like him.
He settled for asking questions he knew wouldn’t get answered and making points that would pass by Rick without so much as a flinch. “That, in the conference room? That speech, those command orders and the reasoning, they were by someone who’s led men. Someone who understands strategy. You took the initiative.”
“That’s the job.”
Bullshit. “You uncovered the potential problem here. You pushed it through secret channels, kept the chain short and didn’t back down.”
“Wh
ile you make me sound pretty great, I would point out that we are trained before the State Department puts us on a plane to consulate offices.” Rick exhaled as if he were done with the conversation. “Despite what my cover here suggests, this is not actually my first day on the job.”
“You’ve had other training. More extensive, the kind that produces special skills. Denying it is bullshit, so don’t bother.” Seth leaned forward even though he didn’t expect an answer, not even a fake one.
“You said you have my file now.” Rick put his glasses back on.
“I have a briefing memo. The first file I got didn’t even have a photo. This one is more comprehensive, but it has holes and obvious spots of carefully crafted info dumping.” From experience, he knew his looked the same. But part of him did want to take a peek just to kill his curiosity.
“I didn’t have yours at first either. Now I do. Helena handed it to me on her way out.”
Now that was an interesting fact. Helena insisted on being in control. He got that, and in her position he’d be just as ruthless about it, but this was extreme even for her. “You make it sound like we’re both being played.”
Rick shrugged. “As you pointed out earlier, I’m not technically your boss. Maybe you should ask Helena.”
Damn, this bravery-bordering-on-bravado thing was starting to piss Seth off. He’d perfected this game and didn’t appreciate someone else coming in and trying to grab the lead. “Hey, I’m not fucking around here. I need to be able to protect you. Do you know what to do if someone comes at you with a weapon or threatens to kill one of your staff?”
“Yes.”
Well…okay. “Yes?”
“You’re not the only one whose talents are endless.”
“We need to be honest with each other.” Not that Seth believed the truth-telling thing ran both ways. He just assumed phrasing it that way might be an easier sell.
“Agreed.” Rick opened his top desk drawer. Then the next. “I could eat something.”
Arguments slammed to a halt in Seth’s brain. Here they were talking about potential death and secrets and needing to share intel and Rick was, what, looking for potato chips? “That’s quite a conversation shift.”
Rick slammed the desk drawer shut. “Well, I’m really hungry. It’s after seven and I’m pretty sure I skipped lunch.”
The amusement played right there in Rick’s eyes. Smooth as can be, he took over and acted as if he’d won this round. He clearly thought the game, or whatever the hell this was, had flipped in his favor.
It just went to show he did not know everything. Screw his Princeton education and hot little glasses. The idea of him having a bunch of pairs of those sitting around appealed to Seth more than had to be normal. But if Rick Fine wanted to play, Seth would play.
“Challenge accepted,” he said.
Rick hesitated. “What?”
“We’ll start with that. Food. Let’s eat.”
The amusement turned to a smile. Rick didn’t even try to hide it while sitting there in his oversized chair. “Are you asking me out?”
Seth refused to do the asking. “For the next however long this mission takes, I will be at your side. Always. You sneeze, I’m there to wipe your nose.”
“Sounds sexy.”
And then there was that. “You want sex, I’ll handle that, too.”
“Okay, but I’ll probably need to work now and then.”
Score one for the sexy nerd. “Sure, I’m not an animal. You’re allowed to come up for a breath now and then.”
Rick nodded. “Good to know.”
All the talk about hunger and food and now Seth needed to eat. He’d kill for a hot dog but he doubted that was on the consulate cafeteria menu.
But it didn’t hurt to check, so he stood up. “Let’s go.”
“You still think you’re in charge?”
“Since I’ve had my tongue in your mouth I think we can skip the formalities.”
“Of asking?”
Seth snorted. “Hey, I asked nicely.”
“Jesus.” Rick stood up and grabbed his wallet out of the top desk drawer. He shoved it in his back pocket while he talked. “That was your version of nice?”
“You can pretend but we both know you don’t want me to be nice.”
Rick opened his mouth but a soft knock cut off whatever he was about to say. Seth thought that was a damn shame.
The door opened and a guy stood there. “Sir?”
Seth recognized him. He’d spent the day studying the staff and the building. This one basically operated at Rick’s right hand. He dealt with the community and U.S. business interests in Germany. He was thirty-five and attractive in a pretty-boy way. Not Seth’s taste at all. The biggest piece of news was that his last duty station was Mumbai, but he’d been in Munich for about a year and a half now.
Seth remembered a few other useless facts about the guy being some big-time athlete in his pre-diplomatic life. An Olympian, which was not the usual foreign service officer career track. He also matched Rick’s impressive height. They were in a race to cross six-three. Seth was only slightly shorter but being near them did make him stand up straighter.
“Ben Rogers, public affairs officer.” Rick came around the desk to stand next to Seth. He looked between the two other men. “This is Seth Lang. Personal security.”
Ben’s blank expression faltered, but not for long. The frown came and went in a second. “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard of a separate private bodyguard in a consulate office, outside of somewhere like Libya or Afghanistan.”
“I prefer to be prepared.”
Ben cleared his throat. Gave a quick glance in Seth’s direction before looking at Rick again. “Do you have what you need for…”
What the hell? Seth had no idea what they were talking about but damn if he was leaving the room until he did. “I’m intrigued.”
“Food,” Ben said.
That did not clear up…anything. “What kind of question is that?”
Ben shifted his weight around. He looked about as uncomfortable as any human ever had. “Mr. Fine—”
“I know I’ve asked before, but please call me Rick.”
“—has some food issues.”
Seth bit back a laugh. These two sounded so serious about something so stupid. He turned to Rick. “Are you afraid of green beans or something?”
“Food allergies,” Rick explained.
No way was he serious. But he sure looked like it, so Seth had no choice but to clarify. “Really?”
Rick shrugged. “It’s one of those things.”
“Uh-huh.” Fascinated, Seth looked back at Ben. “And part of your job is to make sure he eats?”
Ben made a strangled noise before answering. “I am trying to make his transition here easier.”
Seth was about to dig some more when Rick jumped in. “I’m fine, Ben. You can break for the night.”
“Yes, sir.” Ben practically ran out of the office.
Rick shook his head. “I guess sir is better than Mr. Fine.”
“Okay, wait.” Seth stepped in front of Rick and put a hand on his chest. “Food allergies?”
Seth couldn’t figure out if that fit with the whole sexy nerd image or not. Illnesses were illnesses, but still. The rumors were already flying about Rick. He likely didn’t need to add this layer for authenticity.
Rick let out an exaggerated breath. “It’s a long story.”
Of course it is. “Good thing we have all night for you to tell me.”
Chapter 7
Fifteen minutes after leaving Ben, Rick stood at the door to his temporary accommodations and typed in the alarm code, not bothering to hide it. That was a number and information Seth definitely needed to know.
Rick was impressed Seth held in his questions. That had to kill him. Even now, he just waited.
The fingerprints came after the code and the lock disarmed with a click. Rick pushed the door but before he could take a step, Seth
shoved him to the side.
“Wait here.” Seth had his gun up as he reached inside the makeshift apartment to flick on the light.
Before actually slipping inside, Seth glared at him and pointed to some imaginary spot on the hallway floor. As Rick watched, Seth checked the closet and behind the few pieces of furniture in the blue-walled, sterile living area.
The way he moved, as if ready to strike, was definitely hot. But right after he thought that, a memory hit him. He’d watched Seth stalk and survey before. That time he’d been safely in the States, watching via a helmet camera as Seth and his team walked into danger and few came out.
The guilt hit Rick with the force of a body slam. He put his palm against the wall for balance. Had to bite back the words before he spilled the secret. The operation had been shut down and Seth got out, but not before being tracked and seriously injured. Rick’s role had been wiped off the record and life ticked on. Now it all came rushing back, but to tell Seth meant threatening a new operation. Rick couldn’t risk that. Not now.
When Seth passed the kitchen area and disappeared into the bedroom, Rick blew out the breath he was holding and regained his equilibrium. His stomach growled as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He didn’t venture farther because a new fight with Seth would only prolong dinner.
Seth looked around as he moved back into the room again. His gaze traveled as he scanned. When it landed on Rick, Seth frowned.
“This is getting old,” he grumbled.
Rick wasn’t sure what pissed off Seth this time. “This meaning…?”
“You need to start listening to me.” Seth set the gun down on the small kitchen counter.
The weapon stuck out against the white surface in the white kitchen with the white appliances. The place was so bright it bordered on shiny. Not that Rick complained. It was clean and compact. It contained the essentials—bed, couch, plates and, thanks to a quick shopping trip through the commissary, food.
Speaking of which, he opened the refrigerator door and studied their limited choices. “Can we eat before you start yelling?”
“I’m not sure you can.”
Guarding Mr. Fine (Tough Love #2) Page 5