Yael laughed but the idea made her mouth go dry. What if he wasn’t interested in seeing her again? She’d be devastated. “I wouldn’t have the nerve.”

Laura shook her fist at her. “I see I still have work to do on you. Not to worry. I’m up to the challenge.”

She gathered her things. “Come on, Tim. I’ll give you a ride to the hotel.”

“You have fun tonight.” Yael gathered all the cups in the room and stacked them in the dishwasher. When she turned around Laura and Tim were on their way out of the room—Laura threw her a sly smile and a casual wave.

Yael grabbed her jacket off the back of a chair and waved to Jack Reilly.

“Night, Jack.” He was the last person in the building, working in one of the glass offices. He waved back and checked his watch in surprise. He ran the personal protection side of the business which was transitioning fully to this site in the next six months.

Yael picked up her cell and checked for messages. Her heart gave a stumble when she saw that she had one from Shane that was a simple thumbs up.

She frowned. Then she realized he’d replied to a message from her that told him to “pop by later.”

Mortification hit her in a wave and then annoyance and then embarrassed amusement. She exhaled loudly.

“You good?” Jack was putting on his jacket and turning off all the lights.

“Yeah. You know. Just Laura.” Those words were enough and Jack laughed.

“Night.” Yael headed outside into the fresh January evening. Maybe she should take a few life lessons from Laura. After all, Yael was pretty sure Shane had said yes to coming over later. And while they might not be dating, she liked his company and she really liked the sex.

Plus, she wanted to know what had happened today. And, ironically, seeing him helped her to forget the evil and horrors that existed in the world.

Either way, it was too late to admit to him that she hadn’t been the one to send that text. Laura might have overstepped but Yael knew she cared about her. She’d figure it all out later but right now she was excited at the prospect of seeing Shane again.

20

Shane sat in a surveillance van with two TacOps agents from the FBI’s highly secretive “the Center” as they all pulled on Tyvek suits and surgical gloves. Spanish guitar music played faintly in the background as the agents argued over the merits of the best Argentinian restaurant in DC compared to Buenos Aires.

“You guys were in Argentina?” Shane asked.

They both stopped talking and turned to face him with blank expressions.

Dexter Kim, a big, friendly Asian guy, smiled. “No?”