Classified by Debra Webb Page A

that she was more than capable of showing restraint and caution. She hadn’t killed or even injured anyone yet.
    “When he’s finished chewing them out,” Stark whispered, the sound so close to her ear she nearly jumped out of her skin, “maybe he’ll throw them out and the odds will be more in our favor.”
    Casey eased back from the window, needing to put some space between her and Stark since, for some reason, she seemed to have an issue controlling her physical reaction to his voice. There was no landscape lighting, so no fear of them being seen outside the restored soaring windows. Fernandez hadn’t bothered with window coverings anywhere on the first floor. She imagined that he assumed the dirty build-up on the glass would do the trick.
    “Especially after we disable them and take their weapons,” she said in response to Stark’s suggestion.
    Stark raised an eyebrow at her strategy, drawing her attention to his unusual green eyes for the hundredth time. She disliked immensely that she was so taken with the color.
    “Subduing Fernandez would likely garner their compliance,” he argued. “In light of their less than stellar performance so far I’d recommend something less than an excessive show of force. Get in, get out with the least amount of resistance.”
    “They have guns, Stark.” Did he have to argue with her every approach? If this was his idea of teamwork, she was out.
    “That would be my point.” He shifted his attention back to the drama inside. “We’re not armed and Fernandez appears not to carry a weapon, making for a more level playing field.”
    He probably viewed busting in as a bad idea, too.
    “Waiting until Fernandez calls it a night will provide the optimum opportunity,” he went on. “His underlings will retire to their quarters and we’ll have the least interference.”
    Casey knew it. Stark would take the most conservative approach. Every step they had made together so far had teemed with caution. They hadn’t gotten twenty yards in this direction before he’d stopped and insisted on going back to search the area around the hole they’d fallen in for the weapon he’d taken from the bad guy. It hadn’t mattered that she explained repeatedly that she had not seen the weapon while trying to figure out a way to get him out of said hole. That proved, without a doubt, that he did not trust her. How were they supposed to work together if he didn’t trust her?
    When they had finally reached Fernandez’s place, they had searched the small outbuilding before advancing to the main house. The outbuilding seemed deserted and no weapons had been lying around, but it was obvious that the building served as a bunkhouse for Fernandez’s pals. A man like him would never share a roof with the help.
    “Waiting,” Casey countered. “That’s your plan?”
    “You’re suggesting that yours is better?” He waved the tire iron in her face, the rusty weapon made significantly less threatening by the dim glow from the window. “Since we’re so well prepared and all.”
    “We compromise.” Casey turned the notion over in her head. “We lay in wait in the bunkhouse and surprise his men. Put them out of commission, then we’ll have the advantage of no distractions and we’ll be armed. Convincing Fernandez to talk will be a breeze.” Made perfect sense to her, but then she was a highly trained agent.
    Stark deliberated for long enough to make her want to shake him. She wasn’t going to like his response. Exasperation roiled in her gut. This was exactly why she preferred working without a partner. Far too much energy was expended on talk rather than action.
    “Must the last word always belong to you?”
    She’d expected a flat-out no or maybe a counter plan. Definitely not such a personal question. No, not a question. He’d made a statement disguised as a question. An outright accusation. “Is that a yes?” They were wasting time. Since Fernandez was no longer pacing she had to