A Covert Affair (Deadly Ops #5)(71)

Amelia so didn’t want to do this now. “Is it far from here?”

She shook her head, hopeful smile in place. “About fifteen minutes away.”

Amelia wanted to say no. It was on the tip of her tongue, but guilt pushed at her. She’d basically used Mercado—for very good reasons—and since he wasn’t the criminal mastermind Nathan and his team had thought, she couldn’t help the sliver of guilt that wormed its way into her. “Okay, as long as it’s not for too long. I’ve got a lot of paperwork to catch up on.” A total lie, but she’d use work as an excuse any day. “I’ll take a rain check on lunch.” Now she forced a smile out. It wasn’t the woman’s fault she’d been having a crappy week.

“Thank you.” Collette nodded at the passenger side. “Hop in.”

Amelia thought about telling Collette she’d just follow her, but she didn’t want to drive even an extra fifteen minutes in Miami traffic. Hell, it would end up being thirty minutes at least, with the return trip. Amelia slid into the smooth seat, somehow not surprised that Collette had classical music playing.

Collette’s long honey brown hair was down in soft waves. Small gold hoops peeked through her hair when she turned to Amelia. “I can’t thank you enough for this.”

“No problem. I know how stressful it is to invest in something.” Mainly because she’d invested in herself. She doubted Collette had any clue what it was like to put her heart and soul into something and fear what would happen if she failed. To sacrifice any extras for years just to make ends meet. No, the woman would have a buffer with her father’s money to back her.

“It really is, especially in such a difficult industry. Oh, I have an extra water bottle if you want.” She tapped one of the bottles in the drink holder between them.

“Thanks.” Mainly to keep her hands busy, she took it. When she heard the buzz of her cell phone, she pulled it from her purse. As she looked at the screen she said, “What type of restaurant is this going to be?”

“Asian fusion. . . .” Amelia tuned her out as Collette chatted about the type of decor her friend planned. She felt a little bad, but she really didn’t care and something about Collette bothered her.

Her heart skipped a beat as she looked at Nathan’s message. You can’t ignore me forever. I want to see you tonight.

She wasn’t ignoring him. Not exactly. Okay, maybe that was what she’d been doing. She’d been at work, though, so it wasn’t as if she’d had time to talk. But she did now. And no matter what, no matter how hard it might be, she did want to see if they had a shot at something real. She’d never gotten over him, not truly, and he’d clearly never gotten over her. That had to mean something. If he said he couldn’t tell her who he worked for, then she needed to believe that he’d tell her when he could.

Half listening to Collette, she texted him back. Not ignoring you. Was busy at work. Leaving now, about to run an errand then headed home. Should be there in a couple hours. Come by whenever. Her finger hovered over the keyboard for a moment and then she added another message. I’m not letting you go either.

At least not without a fight. If he could fight for her, she could for him. They had to be able to make things work. She was too stubborn to believe otherwise. Feeling better, she set her phone on her lap and opened the water bottle. “It all sounds like a really exciting venture,” she said to Collette before taking a sip of the water. Or the bits and pieces she’d heard did. Fusion restaurants tended to be popular because there was often something for everyone. As long as the food was good, the prices were right for the target audience, and the location was decent, in the end it often came down to money management and in-house management.

It was where so many people failed when running restaurants. She wasn’t about to get into that, though. She took another sip and then set it in one of the cup holders when a wave of dizziness swept through her.

“I think so.” Collette glanced at her as she pulled up to a stoplight.

Dang it, maybe she’d been more tired than she thought. Amelia blinked and tried to clear her thoughts as a haziness descended on her. Her phone buzzed again, but she couldn’t find the energy to swipe in her code. “I don’t feel very good.” Were her words slurred? Jeez, what was wrong with her?

“That’s the whole point,” Collette murmured, glee in her voice.

Fear jolted through her. Amelia tried to respond, but her eyelids weighed heavily, drooping until she couldn’t force them open. The last thing she thought she heard Collette say was “finally” before darkness engulfed her.

Amelia struggled to open her eyes, a sense of panic pushing at her chest, but she couldn’t remember why. Where was she? Sheets rustled beneath her as a wave of nausea swept through her.

Her eyes finally cracked open to fluorescent brightness. She wasn’t at home or at work. The hospital? Had something else happened?

She took a deep breath, the inhalation of air steadying her. Think, think, think, her mind ordered.

The last thing she remembered was leaving the restaurant. Then Collette had been there, which seemed odd. She’d wanted Amelia to look at . . . a building for a potential restaurant. She hadn’t wanted to go, but had done so anyway. Stupid guilty feelings . . .

The water. Shit, shit, shit.

Realization slammed into Amelia. There had been something in that water bottle. Full-blown fear slid through her, the rush of terror and adrenaline giving her the energy to move.