Devil's Due by Rachel Caine Page A

sighed and took another half-dozen folders from the largest stack, the background checks. “I frickin’ hate this,” she said, and ran a hand through her hair. “I’m going to die of paper cut poisoning. See if I don’t. Maybe Simms will see that coming!”
    Lucia smiled and met McCarthy’s eyes.
     

    McCarthy was, Lucia found, a good investment: thorough, efficient and effective. He knew his way around a computer, which was a relief, and his reports were composed, like Jazz’s, in a brisk, no-nonsense style that laid out facts and conclusions in a logical fashion.
    The only problem was that he was actually too good at background checks, Lucia discovered when reviewing his first six assignments. They were seated in what was unofficially his office—bare except for a desk, computer, chair and stack of folders. Oh, and the ever-present coffee cup. He couldn’t seem to function without one in sight.
    “This one?” Lucia held up a folder. “This one should have been passed.”
    “Why? The guy has a criminal background.”
    “It was an arrest twenty years ago for drunk and disorderly, and he was in college. Not really relevant to whether he’s a risk for a major corporation now.”
    McCarthy leaned back in his chair with a creak of metal, aiming a stare directly at her eyes. “You want me to pass him even though he fails the standards.”
    “I want to give our client a viable candidate. We can write a note putting his prior history into context. As someone who might fail the test yourself just now, you might consider being a little less…harsh.”
    That put a spark in his eyes, but nothing else. “You’re the boss, boss. Say, this one, the one with the cocaine habit—you want me to pass him, too? Call it a treatable medical condition?”
    “Just keep it in mind. Our clients want us to be cautious, but let’s face it, there’s something in everyone’s background that could disqualify them, if you dig deep enough.”
    She knew as soon as she said it that it begged a question, which he obligingly provided. “Yeah? What’s in your background?”
    She was silent for a few long seconds. He’d probably intended it to be a softball, but it was something of a grenade, really. “Mine?” She smiled. “Deep, dark secrets. The kind that get you killed.”
    Why in the world had she said that? She hadn’t meant to. Her past wasn’t a seduction. The last thing she wanted was for him to learn more about Lucia Garza, and what she’d done in the name of causes and country.
    “Intriguing.” He pushed back his chair and tilted his head, returning the smile. “Come on, I gave you mine earlier. Just tell me one.”
    She had no business even thinking about it. The silence stretched, and she knew it seemed odd; she was taking it beyond simple idle conversation into a much more serious realm.
    “I worked overseas,” she said. “For the government.”
    He raised his eyebrows. “Spy stuff?”
    “I’d tell you, but—”
    “—you’d have to kill me, yeah, I know the drill.” He held out his hand. She gave the file back. “I’ll amend the report. Mr. Student Protester gets a free pass.”
    She nodded. “Do you have a place to stay yet?”
    “Figured I’d find a cheap motel. Just temporarily, until I can close on that penthouse with a city view. And please, don’t tell me you’ve got recommendations for a cheap motel. I like to keep my illusions.”
    “I’ll find you a place,” she said, refusing to be baited. She was familiar with the process; she’d been through it with cocky, aggressive men in every job she’d ever had. They all felt they had something to prove.
    “I didn’t think you wanted a paper trail back to the company,” he said.
    “I don’t. It won’t trace back to us.”
    “Aren’t you the clever one.”
    “Allegedly.” She paused in the doorway, looking back at him. He’d pulled his tie askew, and his collar was unbuttoned. Sexy. Very sexy. “Are you having dinner with