bulletproof glass that let her in but only let her out when it was satisfied about her identity. The whole handprint this time.
Gadgets. You gotta love ’em . Personally she trusted her own judgment over any gadget, and she was just waiting for the time one of their own became stuck in this flytrap.
With a pneumatic hiss, the door slid aside and released her into the Hunter Agency proper, a place of no-nonsense but quality furnishings, never metal where warm oak would do, everything oiled and polished. No doors squeaked; no dust dared settle or fingerprints linger. She went straight to Owen’s office, through the small area occupied by his secretary during “normal” working hours, and rapped lightly on his door before opening it and inviting herself in.
He looked up from his desk, expectation on his craggy features. He raised a heavy, dark brow at her. “What took you so long?”
Since she’d basically taken no time at all, Kimmer ignored him. She cared more about the fact that he was annoyed and trying to hide it. “I see you,” she told him, sitting in the chair across from his desk. They both knew she wasn’t talking about his mere physical presence. I see your hidden stress and anger .
Owen sighed, acknowledging the annoyance as he shuffled the papers he’d been studying aside. “Bad timing,” he said.
“Is there ever a good time to blow up a propane tank and a couple of bad guys with it?”
That got a wry smile out of him as he leaned back in his chair. “Point well taken. And I do realize you did what you could to contain the situation.”
“Given that I had zero notice.” Kimmer scowled at the thought of Hank’s arrival, and then again at the way he’d rabbited from the hilltop. “If he’d just stayed on the damned hill where I put him…”
Owen shrugged. “I’m not sure I blame him. I think your brother was in way over his head.”
Kimmer thought back over the events of the previous day. “He came here hoping I would kill them. He thinks I’m the kind of person who’ll just…do that. And damned if I didn’t turn them both into toast. Never even had a chance to talk to them.” She frowned at the situation a moment. “There’s no telling if they’ll ever be able to ID the guys. You can bet Hank’s not telling.”
Silence fell between them, until Owen said, “And how’s your brother strike you?”
Kimmer blinked. “What do you mean? You know I can’t read him. A fact for which I’m almost grateful, I should say.”
“I’m not sure it adds up, that’s all,” Owen said. “If Hank saw someone killed, why is it safe to go back?”
“He told me the dead guys were the only others to know about it. I gather it wasn’t a large organization. Just a few guys running a chop shop under the cover of Hank’s salvage business.”
“Hmm.” Owen gave a thoughtful rub of his chin. “Would have been nice to have talked to those two men.”
“Too bad toast doesn’t talk.” Pieces of toast, to judge by the condition of the sedan after the explosion. “Wildly scattered” was an understated way to have put it; identification would be impossible unless they’d been in the DNA database. No wonder Owen felt he needed to appease the local law agencies. “Tell me you’re not sending me away.”
“I’m not sending you away.”
“Because I really can’t—” Oh. She looked at him, realized she’d been about to say she couldn’t leave Rio right now, not again. Not with his grandmother sick. Then she realized she didn’t actually know if that was best. Maybe Rio just needed to do his thing. “Okay, then what’s up?”
“You’re going to put your unique abilities to work right here.”
She tipped her head at him, an unspoken is that so?
“The governor is making his rounds across the state this spring,” Owen said. “Election year prep. I’ve offered Hunter’s services as backup security. You won’t be the only one. I want you working undercover as he comes
Gadgets. You gotta love ’em . Personally she trusted her own judgment over any gadget, and she was just waiting for the time one of their own became stuck in this flytrap.
With a pneumatic hiss, the door slid aside and released her into the Hunter Agency proper, a place of no-nonsense but quality furnishings, never metal where warm oak would do, everything oiled and polished. No doors squeaked; no dust dared settle or fingerprints linger. She went straight to Owen’s office, through the small area occupied by his secretary during “normal” working hours, and rapped lightly on his door before opening it and inviting herself in.
He looked up from his desk, expectation on his craggy features. He raised a heavy, dark brow at her. “What took you so long?”
Since she’d basically taken no time at all, Kimmer ignored him. She cared more about the fact that he was annoyed and trying to hide it. “I see you,” she told him, sitting in the chair across from his desk. They both knew she wasn’t talking about his mere physical presence. I see your hidden stress and anger .
Owen sighed, acknowledging the annoyance as he shuffled the papers he’d been studying aside. “Bad timing,” he said.
“Is there ever a good time to blow up a propane tank and a couple of bad guys with it?”
That got a wry smile out of him as he leaned back in his chair. “Point well taken. And I do realize you did what you could to contain the situation.”
“Given that I had zero notice.” Kimmer scowled at the thought of Hank’s arrival, and then again at the way he’d rabbited from the hilltop. “If he’d just stayed on the damned hill where I put him…”
Owen shrugged. “I’m not sure I blame him. I think your brother was in way over his head.”
Kimmer thought back over the events of the previous day. “He came here hoping I would kill them. He thinks I’m the kind of person who’ll just…do that. And damned if I didn’t turn them both into toast. Never even had a chance to talk to them.” She frowned at the situation a moment. “There’s no telling if they’ll ever be able to ID the guys. You can bet Hank’s not telling.”
Silence fell between them, until Owen said, “And how’s your brother strike you?”
Kimmer blinked. “What do you mean? You know I can’t read him. A fact for which I’m almost grateful, I should say.”
“I’m not sure it adds up, that’s all,” Owen said. “If Hank saw someone killed, why is it safe to go back?”
“He told me the dead guys were the only others to know about it. I gather it wasn’t a large organization. Just a few guys running a chop shop under the cover of Hank’s salvage business.”
“Hmm.” Owen gave a thoughtful rub of his chin. “Would have been nice to have talked to those two men.”
“Too bad toast doesn’t talk.” Pieces of toast, to judge by the condition of the sedan after the explosion. “Wildly scattered” was an understated way to have put it; identification would be impossible unless they’d been in the DNA database. No wonder Owen felt he needed to appease the local law agencies. “Tell me you’re not sending me away.”
“I’m not sending you away.”
“Because I really can’t—” Oh. She looked at him, realized she’d been about to say she couldn’t leave Rio right now, not again. Not with his grandmother sick. Then she realized she didn’t actually know if that was best. Maybe Rio just needed to do his thing. “Okay, then what’s up?”
“You’re going to put your unique abilities to work right here.”
She tipped her head at him, an unspoken is that so?
“The governor is making his rounds across the state this spring,” Owen said. “Election year prep. I’ve offered Hunter’s services as backup security. You won’t be the only one. I want you working undercover as he comes
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