“In a hurry?” His smirk made her skin crawl.
“It’s been a day.” She side-stepped him only to be blocked again. “Move.”
“Not so fast.” He held out a phone. “You have a call.”
The screen showed an unknown caller, but it could only be one person. Vincent Barrington. If he’d been waiting on the other end for any length of time, he wasn’t going to be pleasant. Not that he knew the meaning of the word.
Drawing in a deep breath, she snatched the phone from Alec’s hand and glared at him until he finally shifted to the side. She exited the building through a side door and took a short sidewalk that led to nothing but desert sand and a postcard-view of the sunset.
“Privet i trakhat’ tebya,” she said sweetly into the phone.
“Speak English, or I’ll replace you with someone who will.” Vincent had a high-pitched vocal range with the twang of small-town Georgia. When he was angry, it could shatter glass. Like now. She held the phone away from her ear as he screamed, “When I call, do not keep me waiting!”
She made him wait two full seconds before responding in a monotone. “I was working.”
“I don’t give a fuck. I want an update.”
He’d given her until the end of the year to complete the job. She still had two months. Plenty of time. But he had control issues, a severe lack of patience, and far more at stake in this operation than she did.
“As expected,” she said, “he’s not talking yet. But he will.”
“But he vill,” he echoed, mocking her accent. “I want to know when.”
“When he realizes it’s his only option.” Slipping off her heels, she stepped into the warm desert sand. “He asked me how I knew about Thurney Bridge. What is he talking about?”
“I find it concerning that you’re interrogating me instead of him.”
“I find it concerning,” she spat, her voice rising, “that you hired me for a job without giving me all the details to complete it.”
“Careful, little girl. You’re walking on very thin ice.”
She pulled in a calming breath and moved on. “He doesn’t know what’s on the stolen hard drive.”
“Of course, he doesn’t. His only job was to uncover who sold the information, just like your only job is to uncover who bought it. Anything else is on a need-to-know, and neither of you needs…to…know.”
He drawled out the last part in a condescending tone as if she were stupid for even mentioning it. Little did he know, when she finished this job, he would be the bigger fool.
“Anything else?” She paused, listening, and realized he’d already disconnected. “Good talk, Vincent. You heartless cunt.”
He hadn’t called to get an update from her. He received those from Alec.
The door opened behind her, followed by the tread of footsteps. A lighter flicked. A cloud of cigarette smoke billowed over her shoulder. She knew it was Alec before he spoke.
“Vincent’s getting impatient.”
“Vincent was born impatient.” She turned to face him, holding the phone in one hand and the heels in the other while wearing a smile that veiled her distrust.
“Step out of the way, and I’ll get Cole Hartman to sing.”
“What do you know about him?”
He puffed on the cigarette, watching her through the smoke. “Give me an hour with him, and I’ll know everything.”
“Have you ever tortured a man? How about one who was trained to endure months of unspeakable pain?”
The idiot shrugged.
“The only thing you know is how to run your mouth about shit you don’t know.” She tossed the phone at him. “Until you have something useful to offer, shut the fuck up.”
She strode toward the door, knowing full well he wouldn’t let her have the last word.
Sure enough, his footfalls followed. Her muscles tightened, and she adjusted her grip on her heels, holding one in each hand.
As she reached the door, his palm slammed against it above her head, preventing her from opening it. Out of the corner of her eye, his cigarette skipped into the desert.
Over the past few months, her position on this team had been challenged repeatedly. Some of the men didn’t like taking orders from a woman. A few thought because they were bigger than her or because she dressed the way she did that it was an invitation to take whatever they wanted.
They all tried. And failed.
She’d been waiting for Alec to make a move. Of course, just like the others, he chose to jump her when she was alone.
Fucking pussy.
“I have something useful to offer.” He pressed his weight against her back and ground his hips. “Lift that dress, and I’ll show you.”
“Oh, yeah?” She turned her face toward him, resting her chin on her shoulder.
As if caught by an invisible string, his lips crept toward hers, closer, closer, close enough.
She bent her knees and dropped just enough to twist around and hook the heel of her shoe into the corner of his mouth. He yelped, ensnared, as she used the three-inch spike to wrench his head toward the ground.
His hands grappled to dislodge the shoe. But she had control of his head, and where the head went, the body followed. The technique forced him into a large step, opening up an easy takedown. Wobbly balance, a slight turn in his spine, and just like that, his mobility was fucked.
In the next breath, she had him in the sand, his mouth fish-hooked by one heel, and the other pressed into the inner corner of his bulging eye.
“I’m a twitch away,” she said in a bored tone, “from slamming this into your tiny brain. Give me a reason, Alec.”
His throat jogged with a hard swallow, his mouth gaping like a dying fish on a hook.
“Your job is to follow orders. My orders and Vincent’s.” She batted her eyelashes. “That’s not so hard, is it?”
He tried to shake his head.
“Just so we’re clear.” She put her face in his, adding slight pressure on the spike against his eye. “Don’t ever touch me again.”
A sound of agreement coughed from the back of his mouth.
Good enough.
She rose to her feet and brushed off her dress. Without sparing him a glance, she entered the building, confident he wouldn’t follow.
He didn’t.
The next day, Cole received the usual ration of hot dogs, two fresh buckets, and some things he didn’t expect. With a menacing scowl, the guard tossed in a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a box of medical supplies. None of it would help him escape, but it revealed a great deal about his captors.
One in particular.
Sitting naked in the dark with thrash metal music banging against his skull, he brushed his teeth, blindly patched up his hand, and thought about Lydia.
She wasn’t who she pretended to be. She’d said as much during their conversation, but it was what she didn’t say that gave her away.
During the few hours he’d spent with her yesterday, he’d put together a rudimentary profile on her. But he needed more time, a few more interactions to formulate a comprehensive outline of her identity, her mental and moral qualities, and most importantly, her motivation.
Once he understood her stakes, he could manipulate her from that angle.