Read Online Face Off by Mark Del Franco - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mark Del Franco
Ads: Link
have to show you won’t get yourself killed. That’s the first step. Then you have to show that you can be relied on not to get a teammate killed.”
“I didn’t ask for this. You screwed up, not me,” he said.
She winced at the truth of it. “You’re right. You exposed me. I didn’t know my body signature had a shape that doesn’t change because I’m wearing a glamour. I never anticipated that someone could sense that shape like you can. But I didn’t let those mistakes get me killed. Now I’m trying to show Terryn and Cress and whoever else cares that those mistakes aren’t going to get them killed. And the only way I can do that is to help you succeed at this. If you’re telling me you don’t want to do it, then you need to decide whether you like your hell hot or cold because Terryn will send you somewhere extremely unpleasant whether you like it or not.”
“And you’re okay with that,” he said.
Sighing, she shook her head. “Not in the least, and I will do whatever it takes to make it not happen.”
He smirked. “So you’ll have dinner with me?”
“Yes, as long as you understand it has nothing to do with anything else.”
He smiled. “Night watchman.”
She smiled back and settled into his guest chair. “Better. Now, let’s bring Bill Burrell to life.”
CHAPTER 7
WITH SINCLAIR SLUMPED half-asleep in the passenger seat the next morning, Laura pulled her SUV into a parking space a half block away from Fallon Moor’s apartment building. She turned off the engine, let the seat back to make more leg room, and picked up her coffee from the console. The pale dawnlight revealed a flat-front, nondescript building in a muted shade of brick in a line of similar row houses. It had no distinct architectural character, but the location near Logan Circle was pricey enough to warrant its appeal.
The morning commute coasted past the SUV on the left, traffic moving at the speed limit at the early hour. Within a few minutes of parking, it started to slow, as the traffic began its gradual build for the day. Early risers made their way along the sidewalks, coffee cups and briefcases in hand, their faces neutral except for the occasional avid cell-phone talker. Another typical day in a typical city neighborhood with the noted exception of its being home to an international terrorist.
Sinclair slouched in the passenger seat. That a grown man with rugged good looks seemed like a little boy when asleep amused her. She wanted to smooth the worry line off his forehead but resisted the urge. They were working. “Am I going to handle this myself, or are you going to wake up?” she asked.
Sinclair shifted sideways in his seat, his eyes open to slits. “It’s so nice to wake up next to you.”
She chuckled into her coffee. “Yeah, if you actually, you know, woke up.”
He reached for his coffee. “You drilled me half the night. Even I think I’m Bill Burrell now.”
She smirked. “Be glad you only had to do a history. It’s worse when you have to bring some kind of expertise to the job.”
He snorted. “Well, I think I’m bringing some expertise to the job.”
A motion near Moor’s building caught Laura’s eye, and she cocked her head for a clearer line of sight. A man in a maintenance uniform stepped out and swept the sidewalk. She leaned back. “I’ve had to learn languages for missions. I became a qualified English professor for one. I’ve been on archaeological digs, and no one questioned my knowledge. There’s a difference, Jono, between behaving like someone and becoming that person. You’re using existing skills and memorizing a life history you can create on the fly. You can’t do that every time.”
Even as Sinclair complained about the hour, his gaze was on the street. “Boast much, Cuddles?”
She flushed with anger and embarrassment, at the nickname, at his tone, and at the dig. Several cutting responses flew through her mind. As the silence lengthened, she caught herself
“I didn’t ask for this. You screwed up, not me,” he said.
She winced at the truth of it. “You’re right. You exposed me. I didn’t know my body signature had a shape that doesn’t change because I’m wearing a glamour. I never anticipated that someone could sense that shape like you can. But I didn’t let those mistakes get me killed. Now I’m trying to show Terryn and Cress and whoever else cares that those mistakes aren’t going to get them killed. And the only way I can do that is to help you succeed at this. If you’re telling me you don’t want to do it, then you need to decide whether you like your hell hot or cold because Terryn will send you somewhere extremely unpleasant whether you like it or not.”
“And you’re okay with that,” he said.
Sighing, she shook her head. “Not in the least, and I will do whatever it takes to make it not happen.”
He smirked. “So you’ll have dinner with me?”
“Yes, as long as you understand it has nothing to do with anything else.”
He smiled. “Night watchman.”
She smiled back and settled into his guest chair. “Better. Now, let’s bring Bill Burrell to life.”
CHAPTER 7
WITH SINCLAIR SLUMPED half-asleep in the passenger seat the next morning, Laura pulled her SUV into a parking space a half block away from Fallon Moor’s apartment building. She turned off the engine, let the seat back to make more leg room, and picked up her coffee from the console. The pale dawnlight revealed a flat-front, nondescript building in a muted shade of brick in a line of similar row houses. It had no distinct architectural character, but the location near Logan Circle was pricey enough to warrant its appeal.
The morning commute coasted past the SUV on the left, traffic moving at the speed limit at the early hour. Within a few minutes of parking, it started to slow, as the traffic began its gradual build for the day. Early risers made their way along the sidewalks, coffee cups and briefcases in hand, their faces neutral except for the occasional avid cell-phone talker. Another typical day in a typical city neighborhood with the noted exception of its being home to an international terrorist.
Sinclair slouched in the passenger seat. That a grown man with rugged good looks seemed like a little boy when asleep amused her. She wanted to smooth the worry line off his forehead but resisted the urge. They were working. “Am I going to handle this myself, or are you going to wake up?” she asked.
Sinclair shifted sideways in his seat, his eyes open to slits. “It’s so nice to wake up next to you.”
She chuckled into her coffee. “Yeah, if you actually, you know, woke up.”
He reached for his coffee. “You drilled me half the night. Even I think I’m Bill Burrell now.”
She smirked. “Be glad you only had to do a history. It’s worse when you have to bring some kind of expertise to the job.”
He snorted. “Well, I think I’m bringing some expertise to the job.”
A motion near Moor’s building caught Laura’s eye, and she cocked her head for a clearer line of sight. A man in a maintenance uniform stepped out and swept the sidewalk. She leaned back. “I’ve had to learn languages for missions. I became a qualified English professor for one. I’ve been on archaeological digs, and no one questioned my knowledge. There’s a difference, Jono, between behaving like someone and becoming that person. You’re using existing skills and memorizing a life history you can create on the fly. You can’t do that every time.”
Even as Sinclair complained about the hour, his gaze was on the street. “Boast much, Cuddles?”
She flushed with anger and embarrassment, at the nickname, at his tone, and at the dig. Several cutting responses flew through her mind. As the silence lengthened, she caught herself
Similar Books
