Becoming Rain (Burying Water #2)(84)

“Did he say anything important?”

“Nope.” I kick off my heels. “Just small talk. Sorry.”

“You kidding me? We got some good intel tonight. I called one of our translators and had him listen to the recording right away. Basically, 24 is going into business with someone else and it involves SUVs. The Russians are pissed.”

“A deal with 36, maybe?” Shit, I’m not supposed to know that. Luke only told me about that possibility on the yacht that night. I quickly add, “They’ve been spending a lot of time together, so that would make sense.”

“They didn’t say. But 24 did say, and I quote, ‘Luke only does what I ask him to.’ ”

I squeeze my eyes shut. Every day, the evidence against Luke dribbles in. Soon, it’s not going to matter whether he incriminates himself through me. We’re going to catch him, regardless. Maybe that’s for the best. This is going to end anyway. Maybe Luke never has to know who I am, what I’ve done. He will go to jail and I’ll go back to Washington, D.C., and that’ll be the end of this. That would certainly be the best outcome for me after the hole I’ve dug for myself.

But the possibility of this doesn’t bring me any relief.

“It’d be great if you could find out exactly what 24 asked 12 to do.”

I push the ever-present tension away so I can get through this call. “Sure. I’ll just pull my wand out and get Luke to speak.”

There’s a pause. “Luke?”

“I meant 12. Look, I spend so much time with him. What do you expect?”

“I expect you to keep your head on straight.”

I roll my eyes, silently chastising myself. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, they talked about a deal going down next week. Try to find out when and where.”

“I’ll just pull my wand out and—”

“Alright, smart-ass.”

“You’ve been in my shoes before, Warner. You know when a target is ready to trust you. 12 isn’t ready yet. I asked him if he understood what they were saying and he immediately brushed me off. You heard it.”

“Yeah, I did. But you need to start getting deeper. Don’t get me wrong—you’re doing great. We’re getting somewhere, inch by inch. But we need to move this along now.”

“Why?” Warner’s never pushed me before. That’s his boss’s role. “Is Sinclair worried about getting an extension on the warrant?”

“We’ve got plenty to keep this going. I’m more worried about 12 keeping his damn hands off you for too much longer. I’ll give him some credit, given his previous routines, but I don’t see how much longer he’s going to buy the whole abused girl story.”

I’d say we’re far past that. “I can handle 12.”

“Like you did tonight?” There’s that edge in his voice again. It’s almost an accusation. Or maybe my guilt is starting to affect my hearing.

I ignore it. “Hey, did you catch the exchange about Luke’s car being stolen? Vlad seemed genuinely surprised. I don’t think he was the one who had it stolen.”

He sighs. “Well, we’ll find out within the hour, no doubt. If it was him, he’s going to ditch the one he has like a ticking time bomb. And then that angle is f*cked.” Warner swears under his breath.

“Okay. Listen, I’ll set up dinner for tomorrow night. You guys should get some sleep.”

“Yeah. Bill just left and I’m heading out too.”

“’kay. Good night, Warner. And thanks for looking out for me.”

I hear his hesitation. “We’re all just doing our jobs.”

Some much better than others.

I down the glass of water by my bedside, diluting the salty aftertaste in my mouth.

“I’m so glad you’re feeling better,” Luke murmurs, eyes closed, his perfect, naked form stretched out across my bed. Sated. “I wish I could return the favor.”

I nuzzle up against his side in nothing but panties, my face burrowed in his neck. “Another time.” I’d love that time to be right now, but I can’t very well all of a sudden not be on my period. Even Luke would find that odd, I’m sure.

Fortunately he doesn’t find my method of communication tonight—opening my bedroom blinds, turning my lamp on, and standing in front of the window, waiting for him to notice me—odd. In fact, he says he loved our game of semi-charades. Me, beckoning him with my hand and then patting my bed. Him, holding up a leash and ten fingers, for ten minutes. Me, watching him purposely peel off his dress shirt and pants in front of me and replace them with his track pants and T-shirt.

Me, unzipping my dress and letting it drop to pool at my ankles.

Him, running out the door and making it here in five minutes, his breathing ragged, Licks on his heels.

Us, free of any federal wires.

Unfortunately, I’m now left with an ache in my lower belly that has nothing to do with my period, squeezing my thighs together in frustration as I drape myself over him and inhale his delicious scent.

“Any big plans for tomorrow?” he asks.

“Well, I was thinking that I should maybe call Elmira. Go shopping or something with her.” And see what I can get out of that woman about this deal her husband made with Luke. I slowly circle his nipples with my index finger as I casually ask, “Do you think you could call Aref and get her number for me?”