Probably smelled it, too. Some subtle perfume
squeezed from a rare flower, dainty and expensive. An aroma so
light only the faintest hint lingered after she breezed by.
The woman dipped her chin.
“So you go for the model types, huh?”
“You could have been a model.”
“Flattering as that deflection is, I
couldn’t.” Kizzie patted her belly with both hands. “Me likes me
food. And you can’t save the world strutting the catwalk.”
Phil’s head swiveled toward her for the
second time since she’d been in the car, and he set the tablet on
the dash. “That why you joined the CIA? Save the world?”
“Hell no.” She scrunched up her face. “My
credentials get me a discount at the Java Hut and let me be
a complete badass. Win-win.”
Phil shifted his burly frame in a seat that
would have been spacious for anyone else, training his dark shades
on her. “Apart from a nickel off your caffeine fix, why’d you
become an active field agent, Kizzie? Why not do a stint at an
embassy somewhere or stick to the halls of Langley, be a little
safer?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Protect my country
from the likes of Xan—”
“Don’t regurgitate the bullshit they fed you
from the training manual at The Farm. We’re closer than that. A few
minutes ago there was cake and guests and a honeymoon in the
Maldives. You can be straight with me.”
“The Maldives?” He nodded sincerely and
Kizzie smirked. “Swanky…. Nice to know I can rely on your upstanding moral certitude, handsome, but I’m being straight
with you. The pay is lousy, zero fame—unless I fail or flip, of
course—but somebody’s gotta do it. People like Xander hell-bent
on—”
“Do you realize you’ve mentioned him three
times,” Phil cut in, “when we’re going to the Maldives ?” His deep voice dropped an octave. “Easy to
forget, isn’t it? That you’re on two different sides? Xander’s a
face for everything a good agent like you is fighting, but deep
down, I bet you think about him a lot. Wonder how he takes his
coffee, his favorite color.”
She snorted inelegantly and didn’t care.
“Couldn’t be more wrong, slick. And I’m offended you think I’m so
transparent.” Kizzie sighed. “I already want a divorce….”
“Not with your job. With your job you’re
stormy weather. I understand; I’m something of a hurricane myself.
Gotta be to do what people like you and I have to do…. But with X,”
his head twisted back and forth slowly, and his voice softened,
“you’re blue skies on a sunny day, Kizzie.”
“I’m a typhoon no matter the occasion, and
far more interested in your favorite color.”
“Fuchsia.”
“Bullshit.”
“Periwinkle?” Lips tilting a grin, Phil
pulled out of her space, shifting his view back to the café.
Kizzie reached for the box of chocolates
Phil gave her for their “weekend getaway.” The good stuff, too,
from a shop in Bruges, according to the details on the package. He
even scrawled “Handsome” on the card, the goob. Phil would be a
hard nut to crack, but if she wanted to get useful info on Xander,
she’d have to try. Breaching the top on the package, she surveyed
the options while working out a plan of attack in her head.
“What’s your exit strategy?” Phil asked,
beating her to the punch and throwing her off guard at the same
time. She frowned; he faced her.
“I’m lost.”
“You’re not going to help find Harvey and
the let Xander keep it. You’ve said as much in the last ten
minutes.”
“A distant bridge—”
“But still a bridge, and you’re both
approaching it. Xander won’t budge and you won’t back down. A bull
in a showdown with a jackass.”
“Ugh…Dibs on being the bull…”
“There’s bound to be a fight, and I’d rather
not see this get messy.”
“Queasy stomach?” Kizzie smirked, then bit
into a truffle.
Phil cracked a smile of his own. “No. Just
think…” He stared at her a long moment, as though struggling to
work out
squeezed from a rare flower, dainty and expensive. An aroma so
light only the faintest hint lingered after she breezed by.
The woman dipped her chin.
“So you go for the model types, huh?”
“You could have been a model.”
“Flattering as that deflection is, I
couldn’t.” Kizzie patted her belly with both hands. “Me likes me
food. And you can’t save the world strutting the catwalk.”
Phil’s head swiveled toward her for the
second time since she’d been in the car, and he set the tablet on
the dash. “That why you joined the CIA? Save the world?”
“Hell no.” She scrunched up her face. “My
credentials get me a discount at the Java Hut and let me be
a complete badass. Win-win.”
Phil shifted his burly frame in a seat that
would have been spacious for anyone else, training his dark shades
on her. “Apart from a nickel off your caffeine fix, why’d you
become an active field agent, Kizzie? Why not do a stint at an
embassy somewhere or stick to the halls of Langley, be a little
safer?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Protect my country
from the likes of Xan—”
“Don’t regurgitate the bullshit they fed you
from the training manual at The Farm. We’re closer than that. A few
minutes ago there was cake and guests and a honeymoon in the
Maldives. You can be straight with me.”
“The Maldives?” He nodded sincerely and
Kizzie smirked. “Swanky…. Nice to know I can rely on your upstanding moral certitude, handsome, but I’m being straight
with you. The pay is lousy, zero fame—unless I fail or flip, of
course—but somebody’s gotta do it. People like Xander hell-bent
on—”
“Do you realize you’ve mentioned him three
times,” Phil cut in, “when we’re going to the Maldives ?” His deep voice dropped an octave. “Easy to
forget, isn’t it? That you’re on two different sides? Xander’s a
face for everything a good agent like you is fighting, but deep
down, I bet you think about him a lot. Wonder how he takes his
coffee, his favorite color.”
She snorted inelegantly and didn’t care.
“Couldn’t be more wrong, slick. And I’m offended you think I’m so
transparent.” Kizzie sighed. “I already want a divorce….”
“Not with your job. With your job you’re
stormy weather. I understand; I’m something of a hurricane myself.
Gotta be to do what people like you and I have to do…. But with X,”
his head twisted back and forth slowly, and his voice softened,
“you’re blue skies on a sunny day, Kizzie.”
“I’m a typhoon no matter the occasion, and
far more interested in your favorite color.”
“Fuchsia.”
“Bullshit.”
“Periwinkle?” Lips tilting a grin, Phil
pulled out of her space, shifting his view back to the café.
Kizzie reached for the box of chocolates
Phil gave her for their “weekend getaway.” The good stuff, too,
from a shop in Bruges, according to the details on the package. He
even scrawled “Handsome” on the card, the goob. Phil would be a
hard nut to crack, but if she wanted to get useful info on Xander,
she’d have to try. Breaching the top on the package, she surveyed
the options while working out a plan of attack in her head.
“What’s your exit strategy?” Phil asked,
beating her to the punch and throwing her off guard at the same
time. She frowned; he faced her.
“I’m lost.”
“You’re not going to help find Harvey and
the let Xander keep it. You’ve said as much in the last ten
minutes.”
“A distant bridge—”
“But still a bridge, and you’re both
approaching it. Xander won’t budge and you won’t back down. A bull
in a showdown with a jackass.”
“Ugh…Dibs on being the bull…”
“There’s bound to be a fight, and I’d rather
not see this get messy.”
“Queasy stomach?” Kizzie smirked, then bit
into a truffle.
Phil cracked a smile of his own. “No. Just
think…” He stared at her a long moment, as though struggling to
work out
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