Gritting his teeth and balling his fists, Nic fought the urge to retaliate.

“You think just because I’m smart that means that I’m weak and can’t take care of myself?” Burke said. “I’m a second-degree black belt in Krav Maga. That’s a fighting style designed for real-world situations like this by the Israel Defense Forces.”

“I know what Krav Maga is, but I don’t care if you’re a Shaolin Monk. If one of that guy’s buddies would have pulled a gun, which they probably would have done if Romeo and I hadn’t come to your rescue—”

“I had everything under control,” Burke said. “I know what I’m doing.”

“For being a super-genius, you really don’t realize how dumb you are, do you?”

Romeo, having kept quiet as Nic nearly started another fight in the middle of his office, finally spoke up. “Are you two lovebirds about done trying to figure out whose equipment is bigger yet? Not to say that I’m not finding the show mildly amusing, but here in about a half hour, I’ve got a … thing. So you want to ask your questions or just keep flipping your tails around like a couple of sexually frustrated peacocks?”

Chapter 51

Gabi knew that time was against her. The giant wouldn’t allow them to be unsupervised for long, no matter how angry the younger gunman had become. She only had a matter of seconds to search the office.

She had always hated the black and white vertigo pattern on Yarborough’s floor. Something about it was distracting and disconcerting. Now, it was making her feel nauseated. The room spun, and she felt herself falling into the swirling pit of black and white.

Fighting back panic, she ripped open the drawers. There had to be something, anything, that she could use as a weapon. She checked the lowest drawers first. If he did have a concealed pistol, it would have to be somewhere easily and quickly accessible. Otherwise, what was the point?

She started with the right-hand set of drawers first, knowing Yarborough to be right-handed. The bottom drawer held nothing but a cigar box. She opened it and checked to be sure. The next three drawers of his desk held the usual envelopes, paper clips, staplers, and other office supplies. The only item she found that could possibly be of use was a pair of scissors with a red plastic handle. They were new, the kind with round blunted edges to keep kids from impaling themselves.

Gabi swore under her breath and turned her attention to the left side of the desk. That side only possessed two drawers, large ones designed to hold hanging file folders. She had seen Yarborough pull files on VIP clients and employees from the drawers. He was the type of person who preferred paper over digital, which she found ignorant not only from a practical and environmental standpoint, but she also found it pompous. Not necessarily the act of keeping paper files, but the way he would pull them out, lick his fingers, and page through the contents, making small clicks of disapproval as he went. She held out hope that maybe she’d find a gun inside some kind of quick draw holster mounted to the side of the drawers. No such luck. Nothing useful, unless she intended to give her enemy a nasty papercut.