“No,” the others said in unison.
“Okay.”
“Besides,” Max continued, “I didn’t go through all this trouble just to get rid of him.”
“Most important,” Nelle reasoned, “the hard part’s over. He knows what he is, and he accepts it. Now we just have to teach him the basics.”
“Good point,” Streep agreed.
Then the women went back to staring at him.
Finally, Tock asked, “Sooooo . . . what are the basics we should be teaching him?”
After that question, more confused silence followed. A silence that went on for so long, Zé began to laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
He shrugged at Tock’s question. “I’m just . . . entertained, which is not something I say very often. Because most people do not entertain me. But you guys . . . ?” He nodded. “Entertainment.”
“Awwwwww,” Streep said. “You guys, we have to keep him nowwww. He’s adorable!”
Nelle closed her eyes, shook her head. “He’s not a rescued kitten, Streep.”
“But still!”
Zé glanced over at Max, one brow raised. Her response? Mouthing, Oh, my God. Sorry.
And that only made Zé laugh harder.
* * *
Amelia Kamatsu waited outside the office of her boss after he’d given her and her team their next assignment. She was surprised to be called in. She never had been before. What they did was beyond top secret. They weren’t spies or anything. That took a subtlety most of her team lacked in many ways. But when the government couldn’t take action for political reasons, it called the company that hired her team.
It wasn’t an easy job but she did enjoy the freedom it gave her. When she wasn’t risking her life in foreign countries for an exorbitant fee, she was relaxing in her secure cabin deep in the Maine woods.
But this was the first time she’d lost one of her men. And she didn’t mean “lost” in some euphemistic way. She meant lost. She’d lost him. Her team had been attempting to track down Vargas for days and nothing. It was as if he’d disappeared. She hoped, however, that her boss had some news of him. That he was in a hospital somewhere, recovering. Hopefully the damage wasn’t too great and he’d be back on his feet soon. Maybe not able to join the fight again, but at least able to live as normal a life as any of them could. That was the least Vargas deserved.
“He’s ready to see you now,” the receptionist said.
Amelia picked up her briefcase, pulled down the light sleeveless blouse that covered the weapon holstered to the back of her black slacks, and entered the office. She smiled at her boss—until she caught sight of the man sitting at the far side of the room. A man she didn’t know.
“David,” she greeted her boss.
“Amelia. Hello.”
He stood and Amelia reached across his large desk to shake his hand. “Good to see you.”
“Please. Sit.”
She did, moving her hair off her shoulder so she could get another look at the man watching her. He made her nervous but she didn’t know why. Maybe it was those eyes. The way they watched her was . . . off-putting.
“Any word on Vargas?” she asked, eager to get to the heart of things.
“As a matter of fact . . . yes. He’s alive.”
She let out a relieved breath and relaxed into the leather chair. “Thank God. Where is he? Can I go see him?”
David glanced at the man across the room. “Not right now.”
“Why?”
“He’s recovering.”
“Then I definitely should see him. He’s one of my team. I should be making sure he has everything he needs.”
“He has everything he needs,” the man across the room said.
Amelia smiled. It wasn’t a real smile. It was one she’d taught herself a long time ago when she’d joined the U.S. Navy and was surrounded by very sensitive men who couldn’t stand a woman who got “mouthy.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “And you are?”
“Zezé Vargas is being taken care of and will completely recover.”
“Recover from what?”
The man tilted his head, blinked. It was weird.
“From his injuries,” the man finally replied.
“His injuries? What kind of injuries?”
“The kind that require healing.”
What kind of fucked-up answer was that?
Amelia turned to David, and the man who dined with U.S. senators and vice presidents gave a short headshake. His way of telling her to “stop asking fucking questions, woman!”
“Anyway”—the man stood—“ just wanted to give you guys that update. And I’d like that report of yours. Please.”
Amelia gripped the handle of her briefcase tighter. She’d been so busy asking about Vargas, she hadn’t put it down. It still sat in her lap.
“My report?”
“Yes.” The man walked across the room, his hair brushing his shoulders. God, she would kill for his highlights. It was like a world of browns, grays, whites, and golds in there. How much did that cost? “Your report. Now, please.”
Amelia again looked at her boss and he frowned, urging her along with a jerk of his head.
“Fine.”
She opened her briefcase and pulled out the report, handing it over to the man.
“Excellent. Thank you both so much.”
Then he walked out. Without another word. No explanation. No idea when she’d hear from Vargas again. She couldn’t even send him flowers because she didn’t know which hospital they’d put him in. Was he still in the Netherlands? Was he back in the States?
What the fuck was happening?
Once the door closed behind the man, David slumped in his chair.
“Wow, does that man make me uncomfortable.”
“Who the fuck was that?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“What do you mean, don’t worry about it? Vargas is one of my men.”
David folded his hands on his desk and calmly gazed at Amelia.
“What?” she finally asked when he just stared at her in that weird, placid way of his.
“Do you enjoy your life?”
“Excuse me?”
“Do you enjoy living and being happy? Then, if I were you, I’d forget about Vargas. If he contacts you, he contacts you. And if he doesn’t, keep your mouth shut and move on with your day.”
“David—”
“I’m not joking, Amelia. These are people you do not want to fuck with. Be happy you only had to give up your report.”
David turned away from her, focusing on his computer. “The remainder of your money will hit your account in the next hour, including a bonus. Divvy it up among your team as you see fit. And have a good day. I’ll let you know when we have a new job for you.”
She wanted to argue. She wanted to rip his nuts off. But how would that help her or Vargas?
So she stood and headed back to her hotel room. If nothing else, she had a copy of her report on her laptop and in her cloud account.
At least she thought she did.
By the time she got back to the hotel and went online, it was as if that report—and what had happened—had never existed.