CHAPTER 41
THE HIGHWAY CURVED around
the Pentagon, the Capitol Building rising above the skyline behind
it. Laura loved Washington at night. During the day, its iconic
buildings had a stiff, formal look of history made. At night,
lighting made those same buildings appear dramatic, as if the true
work of the government were happening. She spent a lot of time in
those offices, but it was in the restaurants and bars and private
parties, or, in this case, a limo, that the real work was done.
Having dinner with DeWinter was more work than stealing the data.
It was almost over. In a few minutes, Sinclair would stop the limo
in front of Fallon Moor’s apartment, and she would disappear from
DeWinter’s life.
“You’ve done phenomenal work, Fallon,” DeWinter
said.
She lowered her eyes and smiled modestly as she
stared at the amber fluid in her glass. “Thanks. It’s been a
challenge.”
She settled herself more comfortably in the
darkened limo. The soft red fabric of her dress rode across her
lap, exposing her thigh through the short slit on the side of the
dress. She crossed her legs, her rising knee catching DeWinter’s
eye. Placing his hand on her bare skin, he leaned forward to
retrieve a decanter from the bar. Laura held her crystal glass
steady as he refilled it. Returning the decanter, he settled back,
his hand remaining on her thigh.
Dinner had gone more smoothly than Laura
anticipated. She had maintained subtle control of the conversation,
poking around in his knowledge of Fallon Moor’s life. She had made
up stories to fit time periods in Moor’s life he apparently didn’t
know about. For all the heated looks and promises of better times
the last few days, DeWinter didn’t appear to know Moor that well at
all.
DeWinter trailed his fingers up and down her thigh,
a bemused expression on his face. “Why don’t you come work for me
full-time? I can make it very attractive.”
Laura glanced through the glass panel separating
them from the front seat. As if sensing it, which she doubted,
Sinclair’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. Sinclair had hidden
any surprise that she had walked out of the Legacy building with
DeWinter. He was handling undercover well, though she knew he would
complain later about sitting in the car while she had an expensive
dinner.
She smiled into her glass. “It’s tempting, but I
like being free to make my own decisions.”
DeWinter shifted his position, one hand on her
knee, the other draped along the back of the seat. “You know, as I
watched you work, I became fascinated with you.”
“I’m flattered,” she said with as much meaning as
she could muster. DeWinter didn’t impress her as much as he
impressed himself. He was like so many men who confused money with
invincibility. She sensed a warping in his faint human essence that
meant he carried a gun. DeWinter was the type who thought he could
handle anything thrown at him, so he didn’t bother with an
entourage or bodyguards. His most visible trappings of wealth were
the clothes he wore and the limo service. His CIA service had been
administrative. He had probably never fired a gun outside the
practice range.
“You know, the article was perfect bait,” DeWinter
said.
She chuckled. “Bait?”
He nuzzled her ear. “The article in the Financial Times. The one discussing polling
algorithms that tested global time differences. I found it
incredibly timely considering my team was looking into the
issue.”
She knew the article. It had been in Fallon Moor’s
file. The brownie had written it before being hired by Legacy. Now
Laura realized that was how Moor had ended up at Legacy. She let
them think they wanted her, not the other way around. “Timing is
everything, Adam. I’m glad I could help.”
She leaned forward to retrieve a napkin from the
bar setup, forcing DeWinter to remove his hand from her neck.
Though she had done such things in the past, romancing him was not
going to be a part of the evening no matter what Moor’s
relationship with him was. The job was over.
She avoided looking at Sinclair. Wherever their
relationship was going, it would be going nowhere if she got
physical with him watching. She had what InterSec needed. She
didn’t need DeWinter anymore. Saying no and getting out of the car
at the apartment were going to be simple.
“Who do you work for?” he asked.
She feigned confusion, but she didn’t like the
question. “What do you mean?”
DeWinter’s hand slid farther up her thigh. “FBI?
InterSec? MI6?”
Sipping her drink, she laughed. “What in the world
are you talking about? I think my politics answer for themselves,
Adam.”
He moved in on her ear again. “Don’t take me for a
fool, Fallon. I fell for the article, true. Did you think I would
let you into our systems unattended? We found the tracking
program.”
Annoyed, she pursed her lips while he kissed the
side of her neck. She had some skill, but the planted software had
come from InterSec. Someone was going to get a good reprimand for
sloppy work when she returned to the office.
Get ready, Jono. My cover’s
blown, she sent. Sinclair’s gaze wandered to the rearview
mirror.
Still, she held out a hope of getting out of the
situation unexposed. She sighed. “I’m sorry, Adam. I lied. We
thought you might be working for someone else.”
He chuckled deep in his throat and pulled back to
look at her. “We? That’s interesting. Who’s ‘we,’ and why did you
need to steal data you had access to?”
Laura compressed her lips. She was going to give
the tech team high hell for this. “I didn’t steal any data, Adam. I
don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
DeWinter continued caressing her. He moved his hand
higher, his fingers slipping under the edge of her underwear.
“Where’s the data drive, Fallon? Did you hide it somewhere you
thought I’d never see again?”
She had passed the data drive to Sinclair when he
helped her into the car earlier. She didn’t know whether to laugh
or punch DeWinter. She had no idea where he thought the situation
was going. He clearly had no idea she was a druid, never mind his
marked indifference to the possibility of her going boggie. Maybe
he liked it rough. His hand slid under the fabric of her panties
and tickled the front of her hip.
Brace yourself, Sinclair
sent.
“What?” she said aloud, startled.
“I said . . .” DeWinter began.
Laura grabbed the door and lurched forward as
Sinclair slammed on the brakes. DeWinter flew across the floor and
hit the front seat. She called up essence and shot DeWinter in the
head before he could recover.
Laura frowned as she got out of the car. “I had the
situation under control, Jono.”
Sinclair jumped out and peered in the back. “Is he
dead?”
“No. I stunned him. What the hell did you hit the
brakes for?”
“You looked like you needed help,” he said.
She glowered. “Really? Or did it look like someone
was going for my crotch, and you couldn’t deal with it? Get this
through your head, Sinclair. If we’re going to work together, you
have to keep your head clear. I am not your damsel in
distress.”
He grinned. “You’re wearing a short skirt and
fuck-me pumps. That’s damsel wear.”
She jabbed him in the chest. “Try femme fatale, you
idiot. I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you have.”
He affected surprise. “You speak French,
too?”
She rolled her eyes but allowed herself a smile.
For some reason, despite calling him on it, he amused her. They
stared down at the unconscious DeWinter.
“Now what do we do?” Sinclair asked.
Laura scanned the interior of the car. DeWinter had
fallen facedown. Her glass lay on the floor next to him. “Let’s
keep you in as long as possible. I don’t think DeWinter saw me hit
him with essence. When he wakes up, tell him something ran in front
of the car, and he must have hit his head when you braked. Then
tell him I jumped out and ran off.”
Sinclair looked dubious. “You think he’ll believe
that?”
She withdrew from the car. “Play dumb and
embarrassed. If he shoots you before you get him home, it’ll mean
it didn’t work.”
He raised his eyebrows. “That’s reassuring.”
She grinned. “Having second thoughts about the
job?”
He let the smile slip back on his face. “Not when I
get to see you dressed like that.”
She held out her hand. “I’ll take the data drive
back.”
He handed it to her, and she slipped it inside her
bra again. She leaned forward and pecked him on the cheek. Turning,
she walked toward the nearby highway ramp. “Good luck.”
“What the hell are you doing?” he called out.
She walked backward. “I’m going to the
Guildhouse.”
“On foot?”
She shrugged. “It’s a nice night. I’ll see you at
the office. I hope.”
He grinned again. “You’re crazy, you know.”
She pointed at the car. “Keep your eyes in the
rearview mirror.”
DeWinter wasn’t going to shoot Sinclair. For all
his swagger, she doubted he had ever been in a physical fight. It
was all show, including the gun. He would wake up embarrassed,
probably angry, with a nice headache for his trouble.
She withdrew the glamour essence from the stone
around her neck. The wispy blond brownie hair faded to her natural
softer hue as Fallon’s image faded. Her red dress felt shorter now
that she had resumed her normal appearance. She felt mildly
ridiculous walking down a highway ramp dressed so provocatively,
but she had been in worse places with less clothing. When she
reached the end of the ramp, she smirked as she pulled out her cell
phone and hit speed dial, wondering if Sinclair believed she was
going to walk all the way to the Guildhouse.
“This is Laura Blackstone. I need a car,
please.”