A Covert Affair (Deadly Ops #5)(62)

Before she could think about her next move, another man raced from between another two vehicles. She barely had time to register that it was the man who’d escorted her to work this morning before he tackled the masked man.

Her pseudo-bodyguard—Dax, she remembered—had the crying, cursing guy on the ground, his hands and legs both secured in seconds. He whipped the mask off the guy and yanked his head up by the top of his hair. Recognition slammed into her.

Dax dug his knee into the man’s back. “Shut the fuck up.” His words were a low, angry order to the prisoner. “You know him?” he demanded of her.

Amelia nodded, feeling sick. It was Neal Gray. “He used to work for me.”





Chapter 16


Agent: a person officially employed by an intelligence service.





“People are never going to want to eat here again,” she muttered to Sinclair, who was leaning against her tiny desk in her matchbook-sized office. It seemed so much smaller with him in it, but there was nowhere else she wanted to be right now after the past couple of hours. Seriously her nightmare had better be over. She was tired of being attacked and dealing with the annoying police paperwork that inevitably seemed to follow.

Dax had been stealthy about calling Sinclair to come arrest her former employee—who’d screamed about police brutality as they hauled him away—and about sending an ambulance to pick up Mark. She didn’t think he was hurt enough to warrant a trip to the hospital, but since it had happened on her property she’d insisted he go to get completely checked out. Nothing like the circus from yesterday.

Sinclair shook his head. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. You’ll get more publicity if this ever hits the media, but I don’t think most of your employees even know about what happened.”

She rubbed her hands over her face. “You’re right,” she said, her words muffled. She dropped her arms. “I just want this nightmare over. Has he said anything yet?” Amelia didn’t think she needed to be specific about who she meant.

“No, we’re letting him stew. I’m going to interrogate that fucker myself, but I wanted to make sure you’re okay first.”

She had started to say “I’m fine” for what felt like the hundredth time that morning when Sylvia popped her head around the corner. She paused for a moment to give Sinclair a once-over before looking at Amelia. “There’s a man named Iker Mercado here to see you. I told him you might have already left for the day because I wasn’t sure if you wanted to see him or anyone.”

Crap, she so didn’t want to see anyone else right now. Not when her nerves were completely shot. But she nodded and stood. “I’ll be out there in just a sec.” But she was going to check her makeup first. If she wanted to snag a second date, she couldn’t go out there looking as if she’d been run over by a truck. Even if that was what she felt like.

Sinclair blocked her way, his expression dark. “You’re friends with Mercado?”

She blinked, surprised by his heated tone. “Uh, yes. I went with him to the auction last week. I told you.”

“You didn’t say a word about Mercado.”

“Oh.” Right.

“He’s . . . not who you think he is.” Sinclair’s jaw tightened as he watched her.

Amelia bit her bottom lip. It was clear Nathan’s team hadn’t told Sinclair or maybe even the Miami PD about her involvement in trying to hack into Mercado’s home system. She’d signed a confidentiality agreement, but she wouldn’t say anything anyway. As Nathan had told her, she had to act completely normal about her and Mercado in public.

“Look, he’s just a friend and I’m going to say hi. And you need to get down to the station and make that bastard confess to everything he’s done.” Because she knew Gray had been behind the other attacks. Or she really hoped he had been. It seemed insane that there could be more than one person randomly attacking her.

It was clear Sinclair wanted to argue, but he simply nodded. “I’ll contact you as soon as I have news about Gray. I can tell you he’s not going anywhere right now. He’s going to do jail time. It’s just a matter of how much we can pin on him. But about Mercado—be careful.”

“I will.” She walked Sinclair out, earning a frown from Mercado as the detective walked past him. Maybe he knew Sinclair was part of the Miami PD.

But Mercado’s attention quickly focused on her, his eyes concerned. “I saw the news this morning and I’ve been trying to call. I . . .” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I’ve been worried.”

If this man wasn’t a criminal, he was incredibly sweet. She glanced at Sylvia, who was behind the hostess stand, pretending not to listen, and gently took Mercado’s elbow. “Let’s talk about this out here.”

When they stepped out into the cool, early-afternoon air, she sucked in a deep breath, inhaling the crispness. She wasn’t exactly nervous, but she felt weird around him. She nodded at one of the benches in front of the restaurant. They were between the morning and afternoon rush, so there shouldn’t be too much foot traffic.

“Thank you for coming out here,” she said when he sat next to her.

He took her hand in a comforting gesture, squeezed once, and didn’t let go. She felt absolutely no spark. Yep, Nathan was definitely it for her. Unfortunately she probably wasn’t “it” for him. “So, what happened? The news was vague.”