Code Name: Nanny (SEAL and Code Name #5)(46)

“Except for some problems with pesto or pasta, I couldn’t tell which. Patrick was talking to Amanda Winslow and tearing out his hair.” Before the other two could get a word in, she rounded on Izzy. “How many people on your team and how long before they’re done?”

“Nine people and two—maybe three—hours.”

“I want a personal tour and full briefing when they finish.” She crossed her arms. “And I want all alarms relayed to a monitor in my guesthouse, of course.”

Izzy glanced at Gabe, then back at Summer. “Of course.”

“Who else will be wired into the system?”

“Mr. Morgan.” Izzy smiled. “Of course.”

Summer sat down at the sunny breakfast nook, pushing the coffee to one side. “I need to go over the plans for our trip to Los Reyes. The girls will be done at school in forty-five minutes, which doesn’t leave us much time, so who gets to fill me in?”

“I do,” Izzy said. “Money and passports are in this box, and Gabe has the clinic plans. You’ll take a charter plane to southern Arizona this evening, and Gabe will meet you there. You’ll be met at Los Reyes.”

“Who’s our contact at the clinic?”

“One of the lab workers. He’s been approached by someone in the States, asking for information, but so far he won’t say who.”

“So we need to make him talk.” Summer crossed her hands on the table. “What’s our cover?”

“These days the clinic makes most of its money from cosmetic work and infertility cases. You and Gabe will be touring the clinic as prospective patients.”

“So I’m infertile,” Summer said coolly. “How nice.”

“Who knows, maybe it’s me,” Gabe offered gallantly. “They’ll want a whole gamut of tests, but first we have to tour the clinic and make certain it meets our high standards. That will give us access to our contact without any raised eyebrows.”

“Sounds plausible.” Summer glanced at her watch. “I’m still waiting for forensic results on the box Cara received yesterday. There’s a chance that we’ll have our man—or woman—sooner than you think.”

“I never count on miracles,” Izzy said dryly.

Summer frowned at him. “Neither do I, Mr. Teague.”

“Glad to hear it.” Izzy gave a two-finger wave and headed toward his van.

Summer stood up and walked to the window. “I don’t like the feel of this. I’ve been assigned to safeguard Cara and her family, not break into a private clinic in a neighboring country.”

“Senator Winslow has spoken with your boss, and everything’s arranged. I’ll be doing the B and E, not you.”

“It’s not easy to say no to a senator, I guess.” Summer took a deep breath, feeling like a pawn being shoved across an invisible chessboard.

“When you get to Mexico, you should get a haircut. I’m no Vidal Sassoon.” Gabe slid an uneven strand of hair off her cheek. “Clearly.”

“It will be fine. Hair is hair.”

“Can you do this, Summer?”

“Pretend to be married? Of course I can.”

“Then stop tensing up whenever I get close.” Gabe was right behind her, his voice low.

“Who’s tense?” Summer took a step back, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You are.”

“I’m tense?” Summer glared at him. After a moment of consideration, she moved closer, sliding her arms around his neck. Slowly she pulled his head down. “You think?” And then, without a pause, she kissed him.

Gabe stood motionless as her tongue slid back and forth over his mouth. He cursed when she bit him lightly.

“Is that convincing enough, darling?”

Gabe cleared his throat. “That should do for now.” He started to say more, but she was already opening the front door.

“Glad to hear it, because—”

As they walked onto the porch, the leaded glass window upstairs in Cara O’Connor’s bedroom disappeared in a hail of broken glass.

Gabe shoved Summer flat and fell into a crouch beside her while Izzy’s handpicked team scattered in defensive postures throughout the backyard. “It had to come from the rocks near the beach,” Gabe whispered. “None of the other houses face this direction, and there’s no one in sight.”

“No one in the gazebo. No one outside the garage. Let’s go check the beach,” Summer said tightly.

Gabe’s hand tightened on her shoulder. “Stay here. You’re not walking into a bullet.”

“Of course I’m not. I intend to crawl to the far side of the porch, follow the path back to the service road, cross the dunes, and work my way up the rocks from the far side of the house.”

“Let Izzy’s people handle it.”

“While we’re arguing, the shooter could be getting away.”

“Not likely with three of Izzy’s men on his tail.” As Gabe spoke, Izzy sprinted up. “What do you have?”

“There are kayakers all over the cove. Any one of them could have paddled to the rocks, taken a single shot, then vanished. The teacher has a bullhorn, so no one would have heard the noise.” Izzy stared down at the beach. “My men are checking for footprints, but if our shooter stayed on the rocks, there won’t be any.”