The Espionage Effect(22)

“No.” Short. To the point.

A gate opened a few yards ahead, and the guard nodded at Alec as we passed through.

“But you come here for coffee. Use their beaches for water sports.”

“Yes.” He never took his attention off the road, didn’t alter his expression.

Okay. Clearly he wasn’t a fan of elaboration.

Different tactic: an open-ended question. “What did you do this morning that you couldn’t pick me up earlier?”

“Errands.” He turned south onto the asphalt highway.

Right. Master of the one-word answers.

I decided to test his resolve and clam up myself. I could remain aloof too.

The towering monotonous green jungle on either side was only mitigated by enormous billboards that diminished in number and size the farther we drove from the resort area. The warm midday sun beat down on us, but the close proximity to the ocean and our speed with the open-air Jeep made the drive itself pleasant.

After cruising down the highway in silence for almost fifteen minutes, my natural inquisitiveness won out over intense stubbornness, but only after a fierce internal battle.

“So how does it work?” I blurted, sounding far from casual about it. Didn’t care. I had nothing to lose by revealing my interest in his work.

“How does what work?”

“The spy stuff. Are you on call or are you always working on the mission?”

He negotiated around a menacing pothole, then glanced at me with an arched brow. “Are you asking if I’m on mission now?”

Finally. An eight-word sentence. I stared back at those dark sunglasses. “Maybe.” Curiosity about his job overrode every other thought. Could his line of work be something I wanted to do? Would there always be a focus for the copious amounts of energy I needed to funnel? And yes, if that was true, if he was on mission right now, how did I figure into the equation?

Returning his attention back to the road ahead, he gave a nearly imperceptible shrug. “The mission is always in play.”

“Even when you’re driving a girl to the hospital to see a friend?”

He gave a single nod. Then after a large work truck passed us, he made a right-hand turn onto a two-lane dirt road.

Feeling brazen, I added, “Even when you’re occupying twenty-two minutes of room-service wait time?” My whole body flushed at the memory, warming my cheeks as I stared at him.

Without skipping a beat, he dropped a deadpan expression at me. “Even then.”

“So I’m part of the mission?” I scoffed, uncertain if I should be offended. Excited? Yes. With the way my heart picked up speed at the notion, I had the excitement part down cold. On a deep breath, I attempted to tamp my heartrate down. “So how does that work…exactly?”

The deep sound of his chuckle at my repeated question amused me. I enjoyed seeing the intense man beside me smile. He didn’t indulge in the act often, but when he did, tiny lines crinkled the tanned skin on the outer edge of his eyes. “Aren’t you the inquisitive one?”

“And persistent,” I pointed out. In case he hadn’t noticed.

About a half mile down the long dirt road, shops and small restaurants appeared in clustered groups on both sides of the road. On the north side, carved from a dense jungle poised to reclaim its space once civilization paused to take a breath, a white-stucco shopping plaza housed individual shops that boasted awnings in a wide array of bold colors from reds and yellows to blues and greens. And just beyond, a modern three-story building covered in black glass from foundation to roof spanned almost an entire block.

“The simplest way to explain it is this: We’re always active. Who we are, along with the short and long-play objectives, stays in the forefront.” He turned into a curving paved entrance and followed it around toward a small empty parking area in the front corner. “However, in between actual tasks, we remain alert but off-the-clock. We never know when a chance encounter may become ideal cover.”

After we pulled between the white lines of one of the available parking spaces, he cut the engine. I blinked, digesting his words. “So that’s what I am to you? Cover?” The scientist in me surfaced, undeniable. I needed to quantify what I was to him and how I fit into the bigger scheme of his mysterious operation. Only then could I make a case for him to include me.

Instead of answering, he got out of the Jeep, and I followed. Then he paused in front of me and removed his sunglasses. Amusement danced in his eyes as he stared hard at me. “You are so much more than cover, Pink.”

Great. We’d regressed to nicknames again.

His gaze shifted beyond me as he clipped his glasses into his T-shirt collar. “Gimme a minute? I’ll be right back.”

While I pondered the revelation of being “more than cover,” and how I might use it to my advantage, Alec jogged along a worn dirt pathway that led a short distance through tall grasses until he reached an adjoining parking lot. Curious what drew his attention so suddenly, I crossed my arms and followed to the edge of the asphalt, watching him.

Four dark-haired children hovered near the entrance of the lot. They resembled several other groups I’d noticed on the drive that seemed to congregate in front of every shopping area. The moment they caught sight of Alec heading toward them, their faces brightened and they moved en masse toward him.

The closer the children came, the higher their slender arms lifted. One held up colorful bracelets. Another showed Alec what appeared to be watches dangling from his forearm. Packed tightly from wrist to elbow, their shining metal faces flashed in the sunlight, leather bands circling below.