So Many Boys (The Naughty List #2)(7)

It was time for some serious sherlocking.

ASSIGNMENT 2

9:00 P.M., SEPTEMBER 13

The operative glanced toward her rearview mirror and slicked on a deadly shade of Midnight Red lipstick. A serious mission like this required serious color. Tate Donovan had appeared on the Naughty List, but his accomplice was unnamed. And even though Tate was single, the addition of his name meant that the accomplice was not. The anonymous texts were really coming in fast now that SOS had been restarted.

The operative smoothed her lips together and smiled. This would be easy. Tate was idling just a few cars away in his black Ford F-250, waiting for his order at the McDonald’s drive-through window. He had someone in the passenger seat—a girl—but the thick tint of his windows obscured her face.

As the truck pulled away from the window, immediately heading for the exit, the operative swung her car out of line to follow him into the street. Damn it. She really wanted some french fries.

She stayed far enough back to keep her face hidden from view in his mirror. After a few turns, the operative realized that Tate wasn’t heading to his home in the exclusive Redmond Hills. She narrowed her eyes and pressed on the accelerator. The operative was glad to see that this cheat was going according to plan. She’d beat Tessa’s record yet.

Minutes later, they arrived in a downtown neighborhood. One with small, wood-paneled homes tucked close to one another. The yards were unkempt, overgrown with weeds. Tate’s truck slowed and eventually stopped in front of a green, one-story house. He cut his engine.

The operative clicked off her lights and turned into a driveway several houses down from the suspect’s vehicle. Quickly she snapped her zoom lens on her camera. She rolled down the window just an inch and pointed the slim viewfinder at the truck, eager to catch the accomplice’s identity.

She could see only a vague silhouette as the couple turned to face each other. The operative held her breath, her adrenaline pumping at the thought of the impending cheat. It would be her first catch. Stupid tinted windows.

Every so often, the operative could make out Tate’s arm as he reached out for the girl, but the girl pushed it away several times. The operative pulled back from the camera, confused.

Just then, the driver’s door opened and Tate stepped out. He looked nice. His chin-length, chestnut hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and he was wearing jeans and a pale pink sweater with a colored shirt underneath. The operative smiled at this. Only a really secure guy wore pink.

When he reached the passenger door, Tate glanced over one shoulder. The operative quickly dodged down, unsure whether she’d been spotted. She all of a sudden wished she’d parked farther away. Shit. She would need to be more careful.

Slowly she poked her head up just enough to catch a glimpse of Tate closing the passenger door, his arm draped protectively across the back of a female with a short brown bob. They had already begun walking toward the house when Tate leaned down to kiss the top of her head tenderly.

The operative felt a little flutter in her stomach. Did cheaters have hearts? She dismissed the thought and lifted her camera to zoom in, tense with the need to capture the girl’s face on film.

“Move,” the operative muttered, trying to see around Tate’s pink sweater. She brought her left thumb to her mouth and chewed on the nail nervously, flaking off the polish before she caught herself. Tessa would never walk around so unkempt. The operative burned with resentment.

Tate stepped back from his accomplice. Then, after a quick embrace, he turned and left her on her doorstep. The operative clicked the picture and gasped, straightening up.

“Jenn,” she whispered. The case had just gotten more complicated.

CHAPTER THREE

“TESSA!” IZZIE YELLED THE MINUTE I STEPPED INTO the gymnasium. She jumped up from the bleacher and clapped happily. Her red hair bounced over her shoulders, somehow adding even more sparkle to her look. I noticed that her cheer skirt was well above regulation length, showing off her muscular thighs. But I wasn’t captain anymore. I needed to keep my advice to myself.

“Thank goodness you’re here,” she said, green eyes brimming with tears. “We’ve missed you.”

I furrowed my brow as I crossed the wooden planks of the gym floor to center court. “Izzie, we went out together for pizza Thursday night.” It seemed that out of the skirt, I was invisible.

She wrinkled her nose. “Tess, that was two weeks ago.”

I stared at her, confused. Had it been that long?

“Told you she’d be here,” Leona called to Izzie from across the court. She was sitting back, leaning against the bleacher in a well-worn skirt—one with the hem fraying at the edges. “Hey,” she said to me in greeting, popping her gum loudly.

“Uh, hey.” She wasn’t wearing her glasses, which seemed a bit odd. She hated contacts. And I could see why Kira had been so concerned about Leona taking body shop. She had the tiniest smudge of what looked like grease on her cheek. “Can I have a word?” I asked her.

Leona rolled her eyes, blowing her dark bangs away from her face. “Sure,” she mumbled, making her way toward me.

Kira hadn’t arrived yet, and even though I didn’t want to step on her sneakers, I knew that Leona was a tough nut to crack. I thought that maybe I could talk to her in private and ratchet down the animosity factor. It didn’t help that she and Kira consistently got under each other’s skin. They fought like an old married couple. But not in the adorable-old-people way.