Hell or High Water (Deep Six #1)(96)
Or maybe Bran was right when he’d told her the repercussions of what she’d seen would likely hit her hours later, when she least expected it and was all alone. Shitfire. That’s probably it. She’d probably be a blubbering mess in about… She checked her watch but got distracted when the Bleeding Dude snarled, “Stop calling me Agent Wilson! My name is Banu az-Harb!”
So that’s what Lead A-hole had been saying over and over again. Banoo. Banoo. Clearly, he’d been talking to this guy.
“Your name is Jonathan Wilson,” Olivia insisted, standing beside the man who was tied to a chair at the big mahogany table. Even wearing nothing more than one of the yacht’s terrycloth robes, she still managed to look cool and in charge. Completely kickass. Get down with your bad self, my sister from another mister!
“I know that’s your name because we’ve been in a dozen meetings together. We’ve sat across the table from one another and given situation reports. And things will go better for you if you cooperate with me now. I’ll make sure the higher-ups know you were helpful, and my testimony to that fact will go a long way when it comes to sentencing. So, now, who are you working with inside? Who else has been leaking—”
“Ha!” Banu or Jonathan or whatever his name was—Maddy was going to go with Jonathan simply because the balding blond man didn’t look anything like a Banu—barked out a laugh. It was overly loud and sort of insane-sounding. It caused the three men seated around the table to frown. Leo shifted unconsciously closer to Olivia.
“You think I needed help, Agent Mortier?” Jonathan thundered. “You think I couldn’t have done everything alone? I am it.” Maddy fancied that if his hands weren’t tied, he would have punched a thumb into his puffed-up chest. “I am The Company’s worst nightmare!”
The company? Was that capitalized? Also, Agent Mortier? So Olivia actually was CIA. Maddy knew that much from the movies. And speaking of the movies, right about now she could really go for a bag of popcorn. She had a real-life, honest-to-God drama unfolding in front of her eyes.
And goshdarnit! Where the heckfire was Bran when she needed him? She had a great quote from A Few Good Men she would love to share. Unfortunately, he was outside with the captain, Bruce, and Nigel, making sure no more wet-suited men climbed aboard to cause mischief. Also, they were securing the fishing boat to the back of the Black Gold so they could tow it with them back to Key West—and that was one job she was happy to leave to the men, thank you very much. Then again, she couldn’t help but wonder if that pit planted firmly in the center of her stomach was there because she was missing Bran’s presence, his ready smile, and his even-readier wit. But that was so completely nutso, she didn’t allow herself to really contemplate it.
I mean, seriously, Stockholm syndrome much, Maddy? Although was it still Stockholm syndrome if she wasn’t technically a captive and he wasn’t technically a captor? Was there a name for a swift, irrational attraction to the person who saved your life?
She’d have to look it up once she got home. For now, her attention was glued to Olivia, who tilted her head and let her gaze drift over Jonathan. Her upper lip curled with disdain. “Well, you don’t look very nightmarish right now, Agent Wilson.”
Olivia was trying to rile the guy. From what Maddy had seen so far, it wouldn’t take much. Johnny Boy seemed to have a pretty exaggerated opinion of himself. In fact, if he had green hair and a perpetual smile painted on his face, he would have made an awesomely good nemesis for Batman. This place deserves a better class of criminal, and I’m gonna give it to them! Bwahahaha!
For Pete’s sake! Bran really needed to get in here. All her good material was going to waste!
“In fact,” Olivia continued, “you look like the idiot who acted on a planted piece of Intel in a Company memo and then got caught sneaking onto a boat full of SEALs.” SEALs? But I thought Bran said they were salvors working for the government, so what the heckfire is— “You look like a guy whose grand master plan got blown to shit.”
Jonathan muttered something under his breath.
“What’s that?” Olivia asked.
“I didn’t know they were SEALs!” he shouted, spittle flying from the corner of his mouth. Maddy was happy she was seated on the sofa and not at the table. Bleck. “I thought they were either CIA or some other government agency! In which case, they would have negotiated and haggled for a lot longer than two f*cking minutes before opening fire!”
“Allowing you the time to sneak up behind them,” Olivia mused, “lay on your trigger, and catch everyone in the crossfire. Then, once we were all dead, you could take your time scouring the yacht for the case of chemicals. Which, by the way, actually are already on their way back to the mainland.”
Jonathan glared at her, and Olivia lifted a brow, laughing, the sound low and husky, taunting. “Come on, you have to admit it was a ridiculously risky move. And that, combined with the fact that you fell for the trap Morales and I laid for you, proves you’re an idiot.”
Johnny Boy called her a filthy name, and Leo slammed his hand down on the table. It sounded like a rifle shot. “Watch your mouth,” he warned, his tone the audio version of a hazard sign. Proceed at your own risk.
“Fuck you!” Jonathon roared.
Leo didn’t flinch. He simply allowed his mouth to curve into a grin. “Not on your best day, buddy.”