Street Game (GhostWalkers, #8)(66)

Her eyebrow shot up. “Really?” She flashed Paul a quick, almost respectful grin. “There’s much more to you than meets the eye, isn’t there?”

The boy flushed a bright red and Mack frowned. Jaimie had a way of looking at a man, never realizing the picture she made with her wild hair and sexy mouth, the combination of innocence and temptress. The thing was, she had no idea anyone ever looked at her. She was wrapped up in her mind, processing, analyzing, not ever seeing the way men saw her. If there was such a thing as bedroom eyes, she had them. Everything about her screamed sex, and few men ever realized just how sexy her brain was. How could a man sit and watch her talk, watch the animation on her face as she figured things out that most people had no clue about, and not find her intensely sexy?

You’re staring at me.

Sorry, babe, I just got lost in you for a minute. It happens.

Jaimie blushed and shook her head, turning away from him. “I’ll be downstairs.”

“You might as well eat, Paul,” Mack offered. “We’ve got a decent meal for once.” He glanced at the others. “At least I think so.”

“We could lie,” Ethan said, shoveling more lasagna onto his plate. “But I think you’d figure it out fast enough.” He dragged a chair up to the table next to him with the toe of his boot. “Park it, Paul. And grab yourself French bread before these locusts devour everything in sight.”

“You’d better save some for Jaimie and Javier,” Mack said, already scooping a Jaimie portion onto a plate.

“Javier already ate half of it,” Kane said. “We’re not saving any for him.” He reached to take the French bread from Mack.

Mack slapped his hand and glared. “Touch that and you lose that hand. That’s for Jaimie.”

Kane withdrew his hand quickly. “You’re a little testy, boss.”

“I got to go with Kane on this one,” Ethan said, rubbing his sore jaw. “You get in a fight with your woman?”

Mack covered Jaimie’s plate carefully and made certain the men could see his intention to harm anyone trying to come near it. “I don’t fight with my woman, Ethan,” he replied. “There’s no percentage in it.”

Kane snorted derisively but subsided when Mack turned a cold eye on him. Mack wedged another chair up to the table right across from Paul. He sank into it and took his first bite of the lasagna.

Kane grinned at the look on his face. “You’re right, Mack. No one can mess up Jaimie’s sauce. The girl can cook.”

Mack did justice to the food, all the while keeping a close eye on Paul. The kid had grit. Mack began to think maybe he’d underestimated him. It would be embarrassing since he had Javier as a perfect example of how not to judge a book by its proverbial cover. Javier looked sweet and innocent. Women tended to want to cuddle and protect him. The man was as lethal as one could get. Was Paul the same way?

Had the kid been sitting right in the middle of his team, rubbing shoulders day in and day out, camouflaged in lamb’s wool, fooling all of them? He certainly hadn’t raised any warnings. Or had he? Mack kept chewing, keeping his face expressionless. He had wondered from the beginning at the orders. He’d argued about the danger of bringing a new man into an experienced team. They knew one another, could communicate telepathically, not have to use radios, but Sergeant Major had been adamant.

“How often do you report to Sergeant Major?” Mack asked casually.

The kid’s fingers tightened around his fork, but he sent Mack a puzzled glance. “You talking to me, Top?”

“Do you see anyone else who sends reports to Sergeant Major?”

“I haven’t spoken a word to him, Top.”

Mack watched the kid put a forkful of lasagna into his mouth and chew as though nothing was wrong, but he’d scored. Paul hadn’t lied. But he didn’t need to break silence to report.

“Why didn’t you volunteer that you had computer skills? It isn’t in your jacket.”

Ethan nudged him playfully. “You a secret agent, boy? James f*ckin’ Bond? Bet you have a souped-up car hidden and maybe a cape.”

The table erupted in laughter. “That’s Batman, dope,” Jacob jeered. “Bond gets all the women.”

Ethan slapped his forehead and laughed with the others. “I always get that wrong.”

The easy camaraderie and teasing that included Paul put him off balance more than Mack’s questions.

“You really good at computers?” Lucas asked curiously. “Like hacking into programs, writing them, all that stuff Javier and Jaimie can do?”

Paul nodded slowly. “I have a PhD in computer science, specializing in analysis of algorithms.”

“The hell you say,” Marc breathed in awe. “That sounds badass. Where’d you go to school?”

Paul looked smug. “Undergraduate work at CalTech, graduating magna cum laude. My PhD came from MIT.”

Mack sat back in his chair and regarded Paul steadily. “None of that was in your jacket.”

“No, Top.”

To his credit, the kid kept a straight face, but he was smirking inside. Mack didn’t have to see the smile to know. “Sergeant Major planted you on my team, and he doctored your background.”

Paul said nothing, just ate another forkful of lasagna. Marc slapped a twenty on the table. “I’m going to back the new guy. If he can pull the wool over our eyes for the last few weeks, then I’m betting Jaimie and Javier can’t break into his laptop.”