gaze flicked to the brochures before them, then away. “I’ll bet you don’t get along with your mum.”
“My mum,” she said, and smiled tightly. “No. But let’s talk about you and your mum instead.”
He shook his head, more to himself than at her. “Let’s talk about why you were with Lyeta.”
Beth hesitated. Work with him. There’d be no working with him if she couldn’t convince him they were at least nominally on the same side. And…for all she’d played him, kept her options open and done her best to keep him off guard, she could see the benefits of teaming up. If he ran his ops by the damn rule book, at least she’d know what to expect of him.
So she said, “Let’s talk about why I wasn’t. ”
He regarded her steadily, looking relaxed in the short, comfortable couch. Beth knew otherwise. She could feel the tension in his thigh next to hers; the heat of being against him warmed her.
“You mind?” she asked, reaching for the zipper of the parka. With the handcuffs in play she couldn’t take it off, but when he gave a short nod she was glad enough to unzip and open it. She said, “The average sniper is eighteen hundred percent more effective than the average soldier. That goes up, of course, when you put an M24 SWSin the hands of that average soldier as opposed to his M16. But there’s still no comparison.”
He gave the smallest of smiles; she had the feeling he was beginning to catch on to her non sequitur way of thought. “I’m sure you’ll somehow make this fascinating bit of trivia relevant.”
“You betcha. Because I’m far more than your average sniper. And as I said at the shopping center…the person who shot Lyeta… that was your average soldier. Your people should have been able to tell you that much.”
“You still want me to believe you didn’t kill her.”
“Yes,” she said. “I want you to believe that.”
“Why?”
She bit her lip and decided she really had nothing to lose. Not while she had his attention here in the lobby, and wasn’t yet actually in formal questioning…or not so formal questioning, for which even stuffed-shirt MI6 guys didn’t follow the rules. “I think we can work together,” she said. “Things went bad at the dock. Lyeta wasn’t supposed to die. That leaves me with unfinished business. You’re no better off, or you wouldn’t be trying to squeeze me for information. If we work together, we both win.”
“That’s assuming we’re on the same side,” he said, although how he did it with that slight humor in his eye, Beth didn’t know. It gave her a window into an entirely new facet of him, one she hadn’t considered. One that made her more aware than ever of just how warm she was, bundled in her squall parka and sitting hip to hip, knee to knee, on the small couch. One that made her remember his eyes as they faced each other in the parking garage, and give her a foolish little hiccup of yearning. It had been so long since any man had tempted her beyond the purely physical…
Not this man. Not this time, this place.
She gave herself a mental throat clearing and responded, “We’ve got to start on the same side before we can go anywhere else. We’re at a dead stop until then.”
He gave her hand a little squeeze. “And I suppose this is the first step. Unlocking these.”
“That would be my guess.” She watched him; he didn’t turn away from her gaze. In fact, he returned it, considering her words…considering her.
She saw the decision in his eyes the moment they shuttered; something in him went distant from her. He unconsciously squared his shoulders. Disappointment clogged her throat…something more than purely professional. Her foolish little hiccup of yearning, squashed.
But before either of them could say anything, a perfectly nondescript man swept in through the front entrance at just about the same time another came from the bellboy’s door, and a third from beyond the elevators. Ooh, nice. Coordination.
“My mum,” she said, and smiled tightly. “No. But let’s talk about you and your mum instead.”
He shook his head, more to himself than at her. “Let’s talk about why you were with Lyeta.”
Beth hesitated. Work with him. There’d be no working with him if she couldn’t convince him they were at least nominally on the same side. And…for all she’d played him, kept her options open and done her best to keep him off guard, she could see the benefits of teaming up. If he ran his ops by the damn rule book, at least she’d know what to expect of him.
So she said, “Let’s talk about why I wasn’t. ”
He regarded her steadily, looking relaxed in the short, comfortable couch. Beth knew otherwise. She could feel the tension in his thigh next to hers; the heat of being against him warmed her.
“You mind?” she asked, reaching for the zipper of the parka. With the handcuffs in play she couldn’t take it off, but when he gave a short nod she was glad enough to unzip and open it. She said, “The average sniper is eighteen hundred percent more effective than the average soldier. That goes up, of course, when you put an M24 SWSin the hands of that average soldier as opposed to his M16. But there’s still no comparison.”
He gave the smallest of smiles; she had the feeling he was beginning to catch on to her non sequitur way of thought. “I’m sure you’ll somehow make this fascinating bit of trivia relevant.”
“You betcha. Because I’m far more than your average sniper. And as I said at the shopping center…the person who shot Lyeta… that was your average soldier. Your people should have been able to tell you that much.”
“You still want me to believe you didn’t kill her.”
“Yes,” she said. “I want you to believe that.”
“Why?”
She bit her lip and decided she really had nothing to lose. Not while she had his attention here in the lobby, and wasn’t yet actually in formal questioning…or not so formal questioning, for which even stuffed-shirt MI6 guys didn’t follow the rules. “I think we can work together,” she said. “Things went bad at the dock. Lyeta wasn’t supposed to die. That leaves me with unfinished business. You’re no better off, or you wouldn’t be trying to squeeze me for information. If we work together, we both win.”
“That’s assuming we’re on the same side,” he said, although how he did it with that slight humor in his eye, Beth didn’t know. It gave her a window into an entirely new facet of him, one she hadn’t considered. One that made her more aware than ever of just how warm she was, bundled in her squall parka and sitting hip to hip, knee to knee, on the small couch. One that made her remember his eyes as they faced each other in the parking garage, and give her a foolish little hiccup of yearning. It had been so long since any man had tempted her beyond the purely physical…
Not this man. Not this time, this place.
She gave herself a mental throat clearing and responded, “We’ve got to start on the same side before we can go anywhere else. We’re at a dead stop until then.”
He gave her hand a little squeeze. “And I suppose this is the first step. Unlocking these.”
“That would be my guess.” She watched him; he didn’t turn away from her gaze. In fact, he returned it, considering her words…considering her.
She saw the decision in his eyes the moment they shuttered; something in him went distant from her. He unconsciously squared his shoulders. Disappointment clogged her throat…something more than purely professional. Her foolish little hiccup of yearning, squashed.
But before either of them could say anything, a perfectly nondescript man swept in through the front entrance at just about the same time another came from the bellboy’s door, and a third from beyond the elevators. Ooh, nice. Coordination.
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