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behind the sale.”

Reeves moved to be next to Darcy, knowing that she would be upset that she hadn’t yet received the information before Richard. “Honey, it’s not personal. It’s the politics of how these government agencies run. Richard is very close to the president and his chief of staff.”

“How can I be effective if Dean is getting information before I am?”

“Yeah, it sucks. Bureaucracies just work that way.”

Her phone, which she’d tucked into her sling, buzzed right on cue. “It’s the director. I need to take this.” She didn’t look at anyone but walked toward the French doors to the deck.

Chapter Eighteen

Reeves only heard “Yes, sir” before Darcy walked onto the deck. He looked at Nick. “Do you have any idea what’s going on? Did Richard mention anything?”

Nick shrugged. “I might have put a bug in Richard’s ear about Wilson’s outstanding performance and suggested that we were interested in hiring her.”

Reeves grinned. “Nice thinking. Good to know that you’re more than a pretty face.”

His mind exploded with the possibilities of sharing their work and life. Would Darcy even consider leaving the CIA to join Jenkins Security? It was a real stretch and not the kind of career decision a careful woman like Darcy would make without time and space. She wouldn’t want to be pushed.

“Very funny, jackass,” Nick countered.

“Now that he’s a brother, we get to hit him, right, Nick?” Lars deadpanned.

“No marks. Emily would be upset.”

Reeves spaced out on the Jenkinses ragging on each other and watched Darcy through the glass windows. She paced, allowing brief glimpses of her pert profile with her hair clipped back. She wasn’t doing much of the talking, and he couldn’t tell by her body language whether she was receiving kudos or being reprimanded. It was going to be almost impossible to withhold his opinion on the treatment she received at the hands of the CIA if she had been criticized over his kidnapping.

Absorbed with Darcy, Reeves missed the moment when the subject turned to weddings. Everyone was in the “engaged and planning” stages of their weddings. At one point, Reeves had suggested to Danni and Sophie having one big Jenkins bash. His suggestion was met with absolute horror by the women. Not one would consider the logic of the idea.

Darcy had ended her call and walked into the room. Her lips were not locked shut. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? Except for the enigmatic look that he couldn’t read.

“Any news, Darcy?” Sensitive to others, Sophie had noted the change in Darcy’s demeanor.

“Nothing on the case. I’m a little stunned. The director basically offered me the assignment in Libya that I’ve always wanted after Richard Dean mentioned that he was interested in offering me a job. Was that your idea, Nick?”

“It never hurts for the boss to hear how good his underlings are doing.”

“Thanks. It’s my dream station.”

“Why Libya? It’s not a friendly place for women.” Sophie had a global foundation supporting refugee women and was very knowledgeable about the issues women faced in various countries.

“It would be incredibly challenging. The Russians and the Chinese are hiding behind humanitarian works as they infiltrate the infrastructure to control Libya’s resources and be strategically placed in Africa. American intelligence is vital to our long-term presence and to prevent Russian and Chinese dominance.”

Libya. Reeves reeled as if he had been gut-punched. Always quick with words, at this moment, Reeves had none. No witty rejoinder.

Danni moved closer to Reeves in a show of support. “Libya? I guess Reeves can wrack up a lot of airline miles. He can work anywhere as long as there is a Wi-Fi connection.”

Danni’s attempt at humor fell flat.

Nick shrugged and shook his head. “Didn’t see that coming.”

Darcy didn’t cross the room to stand by him but positioned herself next to Nick. Already distancing herself. And what of her earlier promises? The ground was unsteady under him as if he were mired in quicksand. His words came out wooden. “That’s great, Darcy. Sounds like quite an adventure.”

What of their adventures?

His phone rang, stopping his friends from watching as his heart was ripped out of his chest.

“Reeves, I thought you were tech support. How did you get yourself kidnapped?” It was an ongoing joke between Izzy and him. It was their standard cover when explaining their work to avoid acknowledging their role in cybersecurity.

“I didn’t ‘get myself kidnapped.’ It sounds like you’ve been listening to the Jenkins gossip.”

“Put your phone on speaker so everyone can hear,” Izzy demanded.

Reeves pressed the speaker button. “You’re now speaking to Nick, Finn, Lars, Danni, Sophie, and Darcy.”

He knew it was childish to place Darcy last. But she had crashed his bright new world. And it would take him time to adjust.

“Listen up. I performed my magic on the phone Reeves purloined from our gangbanger. Do you want to hear how I did it, Reeves?”

Reeves laughed, but the sound was hollow. “I already know, but maybe the Jenkins would want to hear. They are always interested in tech explanations … not.”

“I should sucker punch you. You always want to explain when we’re in the middle of an operation,” Finn said.

“Prepare yourself, Reeves. Nothing I have to report is good. Charlie Poll is dead. His body was found a week ago, washed up on a beach in San Diego. The reported cause of death was an overdose of cocaine and Xanax.”

“How can you be sure it’s Charlie?” Darcy asked.

“We were able to track the phone calls that the kidnapper made in the last two days. I’m sorry, Reeves, but the calls were to Professor Wainwright.”

Izzy paused, waiting for his reaction.

“Go on, Izzy. Nothing will surprise me today.” So, he sounded bitter. Nothing like getting kicked when you were already down on the ground.

“Once we connected Wainwright with the gang member, we ran his phone. He used the phone only to call two numbers—the Sureños, and the other number we tracked to San Diego and to a man named Alan Turing. It didn’t take much to connect the dots

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