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  “Hey, man. What’s happening?”

  “Off to find a missing accountant. Want to help?”

  Ty shrugged. “Sure.” He shuffled the papers on his desk and slipped them back into a folder marked TOP SECRET before returning them to the safe and twisting the lock. Then he grabbed his coat and the two of them headed for the parking garage while Colt gave him the information about Charles Martinelli and everything that’d happened.

  Ty whistled. “Somebody burned down the office, huh?”

  “Could be a coincidence. It was an older building—turn of the century. Wiring can be dodgy in those.”

  “True. So hey, are you seeing the angelic Angie or what?”

  Colt’s belly tightened. Was he? “Kinda.”

  “Kinda. What does that mean?”

  Colt unlocked the SUV and slipped into the driver’s side.

  “It means,” he said, as Ty climbed into the opposite seat, “that we went on a date. It remains to be seen if we’ll go on another one.”

  Ty’s brows lifted. “You’re kidding, right? That woman is hot. If you don’t want her, maybe I can take a stab at it.”

  “No,” Colt growled. He didn’t bother to correct Ty that he wasn’t the one who planned to decide whether or not they went out again. That was up to Angie. Though maybe it was best for her if they didn’t, considering what Jace had told him about the guy who’d broken her heart. Maybe she just wasn’t ready. If she ghosted him, he wasn’t going to push.

  Ty held up both hands in surrender. “Okay, man. Never mind. She’s yours. Or not if you don’t do anything about it. But whatever. Not my problem.”

  “Sorry,” Colt said. “It’s complicated.”

  “Always is with men like us, isn’t it?”

  Colt knew what he meant. His jaw tightened. “The job.”

  “It’s not easy to be with men who do what we do. But she’s Maddy Cole’s best friend, right?”

  “Right.”

  “And she survived being kidnapped by Calypso and then visited you in the hospital after you were shot.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I think she knows what she’s getting into, Colt.”

  He wasn’t so sure.

  Angie spent the day at home, working on accounts. She put on Pandora and listened to the Britney Spears channel. She didn’t care what anyone said, Britney was far more talented than people gave her credit for. The proof of that was how the hours slipped by while Angie sang along to Toxic and Oops I Did It Again, among others.

  “I’m Britney, bitch,” Angie muttered while summing a column.

  When the doorbell rang, she didn’t hear it at first. She finally realized the buzzing sound wasn’t coming from the song and she grabbed her phone to turn down the music. Then she hurried over to look out the peephole.

  Colt.

  Heat rushed from her belly to her cheeks and down into her toes. Whoa.

  “Just a sec,” she yelled as she sprinted over to the hall mirror to check how she looked. Her hair was piled on her head in a messy bun, but at least she’d put on makeup this morning. She’d changed into yoga pants and a silky button-down top when she got home, but it was presentable.

  Angie yanked open the door with a smile. “Hi.”

  Colt looked a little gruff, a little intense—and a whole lot delicious. He was tall, with summer sky eyes and tightly cropped blond hair, and her insides melted just a little.

  “Hey, babe. Mind if I come in?”

  She stood back and held the door wider. “Not at all.” And she really didn’t mind. She’d talked to Colt so much over the past couple of days—in person, in text, and on the phone—that she felt comfortable with him. Being with him felt right somehow.

  He strode in, then shrugged out of the black leather bomber jacket he wore.

  She took it and put it over the back of a chair. “Is everything okay?”

  He had on a black knit henley that clung to hard muscle, and faded jeans that accentuated things she didn’t need to stare at. She very deliberately kept her eyes on his face.

  “Yeah, everything’s fine. I was nearby and thought I’d stop in and check on you. I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t call first.”

  She glowed inside. What the heck was that all about? “I don’t mind. I was working anyway.”

  Britney sang My Prerogative in the background and Colt arched an eyebrow. “Working music?”

  Angie folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Britney makes time fly. And she keeps me tapping my toes.”

  “Hey, it’s cool. I like Britney. I was on her security detail a few years ago.”

  Angie’s jaw dropped. “You were? Wow.”

  He shrugged. “It was just once. In Vegas when she was doing her show.”

  “That’s so awesome. Did you talk to her?”

  “Not individually. But she was nice to everyone.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. I hate when you find out someone like that is a jerk and then you can’t buy more of their music.” She went over to the island where she snapped her laptop closed and turned down the music. “We’re all working at home for the foreseeable future. I drove by the building this morning. It’s awful.”

  Colt followed. There were lines on his forehead from the frown he wore. “I saw it earlier. I’m sorry.”

  “Do you think there’s something more to it?”

  She kept thinking there must be, but what proof did she have? None.

  He seemed to hesitate. Or maybe she only thought he did. “I don’t really know. It’s probably not related to Martinelli and the Cardinal Group, but we won’t know until the fire investigators file their report. That could take weeks.”

  “So long?”

  “It’s not like on TV. The investigators have a lot to analyze, not to mention the destructive power of fire on evidence.”

  Angie frowned. She’d hoped there’d be answers a lot sooner. She wanted them so she could stop feeling this gnawing sense of unease in the pit of her stomach. “What about your people? The place you work seems, I don’t know, able to get things done a lot faster.”

  “Often we can. But fire investigation really isn’t our thing. We’re more likely to be blowing things up than searching for evidence of arson.”

  Angie sighed. Her stomach chose that moment to rumble. She pressed a hand against it. “Sorry. I guess it’s been a while since breakfast.”

  “You haven’t eaten since breakfast?”

  “No, but it was a big breakfast.” She’d had pancakes though she probably shouldn’t have. But they were so good and she’d been too upset about everything to deny herself.

  Comfort pancakes. That’s what they were.

  “It’s nearly five. Why don’t you let me take you to dinner?”

  Her heart thumped. Not because she was afraid, but because she wanted to spend time with this man. He made her feel safe. “Okay. But I have to change.”

  He seemed puzzled. “Why? You look terrific.”

  “I’m wearing yoga pants and an old shirt.”

  “You still look terrific.”

  Driven by impulse, she went over and put her hand against his chest. Stood on tiptoe to press her lips to his cheek. She hadn’t kissed him since New Year’s Eve when she’d worked up the courage to give him a quick kiss on the mouth. This kiss wasn’t as daring as that one, but it made lightning blaze beneath her skin.

  Colt didn’t move. Didn’t catch her to him or try to turn his head and meet her lips. He let her kiss him on the cheek and stood utterly still until she backed away. He frowned at her. A baffled frown, not an upset one.

  “What was that for?”

  Angie felt herself turning red. Naturally. “For being you. For saying nice things when you don’t have to. For coming to check on me and not thinking I’m a nut for, well, anything. Thanks.”

  “I like you, Angie. I have a lot of thoughts about you, but that’s the most important one you need to know. If nothing else, we’re friends. You can count on me to be
here for you.”

  She trembled in a good way. “I know I can.”

  “Good. Now go change so we can eat.”

  Angie headed for the bedroom, feeling buoyant. Maybe she should be more cautious, but her brain wasn’t in control right now. She’d already let it have far too much input where Colt was concerned.

  It was time to let go—and pray she didn’t regret a second of it.

  Chapter Six

  Colt took Angie across the bridge to a restaurant on the eastern shore. It was a smaller place, out of the way, unlikely to be frequented by anyone they knew. Not that he cared about being seen with her. He didn’t mind that. But he wanted her out of her usual haunts and somewhere different where he could observe those around them.

  See if anyone stood out or seemed to be following them. A professional wouldn’t be obvious, but Colt wasn’t sure whoever was out there was a professional. Not with the clumsy way they’d deleted the Cardinal Group files and torched the building.

  He was sure that fire had been arson. But why? There was no need to do it since they’d hacked the server and deleted the files. Unless they were covering up something else.

  Colt had gone to Charles Martinelli’s place with Ty. The house was unlocked and it’d been ransacked. There was no sign of Martinelli. His car was gone, his wallet and keys, and it looked like someone had gone through his closet and taken out some clothes, which seemed to indicate that Martinelli had been in a rush to get the hell out of town.

  They’d searched for a passport, but hadn’t found one. The mail had been piled up on the floor beneath the slot and they’d gone through it. Nothing but bills and junk mail.

  They’d taken his desktop computer back to BDI for analysis. Ty and Jace were running searches on passenger manifests for flights out of the country. Ian was mining his contacts for information on the Cardinal Group’s partners and staff. Brett was currently in Germany with Tallie, shopping for furniture or something, so he was out.

  Colt had taken point on Angie’s safety. He’d thought Jace was going to argue with him over it, but Jace merely arched an eyebrow and said, “I trust you to take care of Maddy’s dearest friend in the world.”

  Not that they knew Angie was in danger. It was an abundance of caution due to her having worked on the Cardinal Group account before it disappeared. Add in the fact Martinelli had done a runner, and they weren’t taking any chances.

  “This is really good,” Angie said around bites of parmesan-crusted chicken. “How did you find this place?”

  “Yelp.”

  She laughed. “Got me there. I use Yelp, but only when I’m traveling and need to know what’s around. Or when I need the opening hours to a place I like because I’ve forgotten what they are.”

  “I like to search for new-to-me places with high ratings.”

  “You’re a foodie.”

  “Nah, just half French.”

  “Why didn’t you go into the wine business? You clearly like wine and food, and you said your father was a winemaker.”

  An invisible band tightened around his chest. “It wasn’t an option for me. The business passed to my uncle, and my mother and I moved to America.”

  Uncle Guillaume had never approved of his brother’s marriage to Colt’s American mother. Though his father had entrusted Guillaume with the estate and believed he would honor his wishes, Guillaume had not. His sons were older because he’d married younger, and he’d brought them in to help run the company. There was no need for Colt or his mother in that scenario. They’d been cut out.

  “Do you ever think about going back?” She was innocently asking questions, but each one twisted the knife a little deeper in an old wound.

  “No. Besides, I like what I’m doing now. It’s far more exciting.”

  “And dangerous. Unless winemakers have to worry about falling into a vat of wine or something.”

  He laughed in spite of himself. “Not typically, no.”

  “So you decided to become a spy instead.”

  “I’m not a spy.”

  “You work for Ian Black. I don’t know what he does, but you can’t tell me that man is not a spy. I’ve been around him just enough to know he’s not ordinary.”

  Colt snorted. “No, he’s definitely not ordinary. But we’re a security firm, Angie. We provide services around the globe, which is why language skills are important. We aren’t spies.”

  Not technically. On the surface, they worked for whoever could pay them. But that wasn’t the real story. The real story was the mission. To protect and defend the innocent, and to put a stop to evil wherever and however they could. It was a never-ending mission.

  “Okay, you aren’t spies. Whenever Maddy and Jace speak Russian to each other, I feel like I’m in a Bond movie. It’s cool though. I wish I spoke another language.”

  “Don’t you?”

  She blinked. “No. English is it.”

  “I was thinking about math. That’s a language that scares a lot of people.”

  “Oh, cute. I guess it’s kind of like a foreign language to people who are terrified by it.” She shrugged. “Equations have always made sense me.”

  “That’s kinda how language is.”

  “You speak English and French. Anything else?”

  “Italian and Spanish. A little German.” And Farsi, though he wasn’t telling her that one since it would give away that he often traveled to Iran. Those missions were highly classified and particularly dangerous these days. Not something she needed to know.

  “Well damn, that’s pretty impressive. I’m feeling a little under accomplished here.”

  “I’m pretty sure you aren’t. Equations, remember?”

  She laughed. He liked the way her laugh sounded. Liked the way her auburn hair escaped her messy bun and framed her face. She was pretty, and though he’d seen her in smoking hot dresses and high heels, he liked her just as much in the jeans and sweater she’d put on. It was a deep mustardy-gold sweater in a chunky knit with a loose neck and a shoulder that kept slipping down to reveal her bra strap. The bra was gray, and he wished he could see more of it.

  “Yes, all right, you win. I can do math without fear, and I can balance a mean spreadsheet. I can also do your taxes—and that’s magic, I swear. Nobody likes taxes.”

  She made him laugh.

  “Only accountants and tax attorneys. And the IRS,” he added.

  “Right.”

  “Did anybody from the Cardinal Group ever contact you?”

  “No. I sent three emails. They never answered any of them. That’s not unusual with some of these clients. I’ve been bugging one of my accounts for 1099 information for almost a month now. The deadline to send them out is in two days, so they’d better get a move on it.”

  “The Cardinal Group knows you had a problem with the account then.”

  “I didn’t phrase it like that. I said I needed to verify some things in order to complete their tax return. We never tell a client we’re having a problem. We don’t want to give them any reason to doubt our competence. Barnes and Blake would be horrified.”

  “But not Barton?”

  “Barton unofficially retired last year. He was eighty if he was a day, and his wife finally put her foot down. He still comes in every once in a while, but he’s not involved in the day to day anymore.”

  Regardless of how she’d phrased her emails, he didn’t like that anyone at the Cardinal Group knew she’d been having trouble with their account. The research so far indicated the firm was run by two men who represented a group of venture capitalists with money to burn.

  It gave them a prime opportunity to skim a little bit off the top and pad their own pockets, which is what Colt suspected was going on. But what made Charles Martinelli run and why did someone burn down the building after the records were erased?

  “Colt?” she asked when he didn’t say anything.

  He jerked his attention back to her. “Yeah, baby?”

  She smiled. “I really
shouldn’t like it when you call me baby, but I do. I don’t know why. Anyway, you seemed distracted there for a second.”

  “Sorry. Just thinking.”

  “About my situation, right?”

  “Yes.”

  She sighed. “You’re thinking it’s not good they know I had trouble, because if they are up to something illegal, then they know I’ve seen something wrong with their finances.”

  He hated to admit it to her, but Angie was smart and she wasn’t going to accept any half-truths. “Pretty much. Could just be that Martinelli fucked up a spreadsheet and quit work because he reached a breaking point.”

  Not that he believed it after seeing Martinelli’s place. But he wasn’t about to panic Angie with that knowledge. She already knew enough to be worried.

  Angie nodded. “It could happen. Charles always seemed like he had his shit together—but as Liam reminded me, Type A personalities can flame out when they overload.”

  “Was Liam close to him?”

  “No, definitely not.”

  “Anyone else?”

  Her face scrunched adorably as she contemplated the question. “Honestly, I thought Jenny Clark was talking to him a lot lately. Jenny went through a terrible divorce last year. She has two kids and she shares custody with her ex, which has been hard on her since he left her for another woman. Charles is a horn dog, so he was probably just trying to get into her pants—or maybe he did get into them. I don’t know, but I saw her in his office quite a bit over the past month.”

  “Do you think she’s talked to him since he quit?”

  “She’s never said so. She seemed as puzzled as the rest of us when he didn’t come back to work.” She pulled in a breath. “I should tell you that Charles tried to get me to go out with him. He was pretty obnoxious about it for a while, but I thought he’d finally taken no for an answer because he stopped trying. Like I said, horn dog.”

  Colt didn’t like how that made him feel. Yeah, he told himself it’d be better for her to find a normal guy to settle down with—but when he pictured it, it made him want to flip tables and roar.