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forehead. When would she wake up? Talk about the kookiest dream ever. Through the strange haze, she looked at Rex playing Rurik and wondered if she was also two people. Surely all of this wasn’t happening to her but to someone else.
    Everyone shouted and threw flower petals as they walked toward the door. Thankfully the IT fellow stopped filming when they stepped away from the stage area that would fit perfectly in any Las Vegas wedding chapel. They stopped at the conference table, and Rex handed her a pen and pointed at a blank line near the bottom of an official-looking form. She paused and then studied his face. She remembered that look. Molten-gray eyes burned into hers. He wanted her.
    She leaned down and signed her name, noting his signature of Rurik Volkov. Before she moved away, Jack lifted the sheet and pointed at another spot. She signed again next to where he placed his finger.
    When she straightened, Olivia and Charlie looped their arms through hers and moved her to a chair. She stared off, not focusing on anything around her.
    “Abby, are you okay?” Olivia hovered over her, awkwardly patting her shoulder.
    “Olivia?”
    “Yeah, hon?”
    “Quit hovering. You’re scaring me.” The woman never hovered. Abby concentrated on breathing: deep inhale and long exhale.
    “Sorry. Your eyes are open so wide, just like the scared raccoon Collin found in the garbage the other day. You’ve got me worried. And to tell you the truth, you need to avoid wearing cream. Beige might be okay, but cream sucks the life out of your skin tone.”
    Abby glared at her until Olivia moved away and sat on the other side of the table with her arms crossed, shaking her head, mumbling and shooting her evil looks. In the back of Abby’s mind, she was amazed that Olivia had apologized but to ramble on about colors and skin tones . . . that was enough to scare her. Things must really be bad if a former cold-blooded assassin was rattled by everything going on.
    Charlie pulled out a chair nearby, wedged her elbow onto the table, and propped up her head in one hand, smiling.
    “So starting this morning, you can jump on that stallion and ride him all you want. But I better warn you not to turn your back on Nic. She’s madder than a puppy in a wet sack.” Charlie nodded to the other end of the room.
    Abby glanced over at Nic. Rex was leaning down to let her whisper something in his ear. Judging from the way the woman’s hand clasped his upper arm, nails digging into the material, Nic was upset and wanted Rex to understand how much. But all Abby could think about was how that thick muscled arm belonged to her and Nic needed to let go.
    As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she was ashamed. The whole arrangement was part of a ruse to set up Brody Walker. None of it was real.
    She covered her eyes and bowed her head until her forehead rested on the shiny table. A couple solid bumps would help her to think clearly. She stopped banging her head when Charlie snorted.
    “How’re you going to explain to your mama about the bruise on your noggin if you keep doing that?” Charlie shoved her on the shoulder.
    She was right. Somehow she needed to find a way to explain her new husband, not counting any facial bruising. No need for Rex to be accused of wife beating. Knowing her mom, she’d call the police. Then again, what better way to get him out of her hair so she could do her job? No. His presence was needed to get closer to Brody.
    Lord of Mercy, her head hurt.
    A RMS CROSSED AND his jaw aching from holding back the need to throw an uppercut into Jack’s smart-ass mouth, Rex halfway listened to Nic’s complaints.
    “Did you hear anything I said?” Her dark eyes flashed in irritation.
    “Tell Jack how you feel about it. This is all his idea.”
    “He won’t listen to me. But maybe if I insist on field time again, I can be helpful,” Nic said with her usual furor. “You know, by speeding up the mission, there will be no need to be