Falcon: The Quiet Professionals Book 3 (11 page)

Brushing her hair forward, she accidentally grazed the knot Sal had given her—a concussion with it. She’d had one before and knew the markers. But she hadn’t wanted the fuss. Didn’t want to incite Sal. A dart of pain responded to her touch.

“May I help you?” an attendant at a podium asked. Dressed in a smart little navy suit with a silk scarf draped around her face, the attendant smiled.

“I have a reservation with—”

“Miss Tang?”

Cassie started. “Yes.”

“She’s waiting for you.”

“Oh.” A weird feeling slithered through Cassie, but she shoved aside her misgivings. Today would be a fun day. A time of remembering and laughing. Long ago, they decided she and Kiew were twins separated at birth.

“This way,” the woman said, as she sauntered around the podium and started for a secluded section of the restaurant.

Being a trained operative, Cassie did the perfunctory assessment of the setting. There were two visible exits—one at the front and one at the very back. Another entrance probably led to the kitchen or bathrooms and might provide another means of escape.

Suits littered the more secluded area, their condescension and arrogance as thick as steel-cut oatmeal. Doubt and discomfort slithered down her spine as she weaved through the white-draped tables with their amber glowing candles. A spiced scent rose on a tendril of smoke from each.

At the back, a cluster of well-placed ficus provided a natural barrier. Through the leaves, she caught sight of a brightly colored silk blouse. Kiew. Had to be.

“Miss Tang, your guest.”

Cassie rounded the last ficus, excitement thrumming through her in anticipation of seeing her friend for the first time in seven years. She threw her arms out when she saw the round, beautiful face. “Kiew!”

But the woman before her sat stiff and unmoving. “Cassandra. So good to see you again.”

Though she already laced an arm around Kiew’s neck for a hug, Cassie knew she’d made a mistake. Cassandra. Not Yong, the Chinese equivalent of a “bubbling.” But she swallowed her pride and tucked herself in the chair, noting the attendant still waiting. Kiew had always been reserved in front of strangers.

“A drink?” Kiew asked her, eyebrow arched.

“Water,” Cassie said. “Please.”

With an upturned nose, the attendant left.

Alone, Cassie grinned unabashedly. “This is awesome!”

Kiew still kept her hands in her lap, her composure rigid as steel. “It was good of you to meet me on such short notice.”

Now Cassie hesitated. Things were… off. Maybe the indifferent behavior was because of the years they’d spent apart. But still, Kiew had been much nicer on the phone. “Of course—can’t believe we’re both in Afghanistan at the same time! And for me to be sent up here for business while you’re here.”

“Quite a coincidence.”

Okay, enough. “What’s wrong, Kiew?”

Kiew leaned away, her face an impassive mask of civility. “What could possibly be wrong?”

A waiter appeared like a gust of wind with her glass of water and a china cup of black tea for Kiew.

“I will have the bok choy. My guest will have the salmon and rice.” Kiew gave Cassie a measured look. “You still like salmon, yes?”

“I love it.” What she didn’t love was the change in her friend. But Cassie had never been the confrontational kind—in fact, she’d walked a wide mile around conflict to avoid it. She laid the linen napkin across her lap and lifted the small water glass and sipped.

“How long have you been in Afghanistan?” Kiew asked as she raised her steaming tea.

“About three months.”

“Aren’t you scared?”

Cassie frowned. “Why would I be?”

“The attacks.”

“How do you know about those?”

Kiew sniffed. “It is all over the news. Local outlets take great pride in the damage done to the Americans.”

“I’m sure they do.”

The chatter between them did not improve before the food arrived, forcing them into silent eating. Something was wrong. Or maybe Kiew had just changed. A lot. This wasn’t the same girl she’d known and considered a blood sister. Sure, Kiew had always been quieter and more reserved than Cassie, but not cold and aloof.

“You have changed,” Kiew finally said quietly.

Yes, that was true, too. “Life has… challenged me.”

Kiew laughed. “That is a good way to put things.”

“I could be angry and bitter about what I’ve been through, but in the end, that only makes me miserable.” Cassie couldn’t help but think of Sal’s anger and bitterness. She could understand his anger, but what… what happened to Kiew? “What about you? How have you been?”

Kiew’s gaze fell to the table and silence blanketed them. A chilled silence. “I’m…” She breathed in and then exhaled. “I have changed, too. Life has, as you say,
challenged
me.” Her eyes sparkled and, for a brief moment, the old Kiew peeked from behind the reserved facade. “I am not sure, however, that I have conquered where it threw me.”

Cassie set her plate aside. “I’m not sure I can say I’ve conquered it either, but I’m fighting to have the life I want.” Why did Sal just leap into her mind with his handsome, brooding eyes? She had to change the subject. “So, what do you do for work? Do you travel a lot? Do you think we can see each other again?”

Kiew laughed again. Cassie remembered loving the sound, so much that she would make up things to say so Kiew would laugh. “One question at a time.”

With bunched shoulders, Cassie grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. So—job. What are you doing here?”

The stony mask slipped back into place. “Protecting interests for my… boss.”

The words seemed as carefully picked as plucking roses from a thornbush.

“That sounds… mysterious.” Cassie wrinkled her nose. “When you were in school, you said people teased you because you were so smart.”

“No.” Kiew glanced down at the napkin she folded and smoothed. “I said, because I was too smart.”

“There is no such thing as
too
smart. Crazy smart? Maybe.” Cassie laughed. “That was you—I always envied your brain.”

“And how happy you were.”

Now it was Cassie’s turn to look away.

“But I see that you are not quite as happy.” Kiew considered her. “What happened? I see a wound behind those eyes, and I do not mean the injury on your temple.”

Cassie’s hand almost went to the knot. How ironic that the knot and her subdued happiness were both connected to the same person. “Things happened. I let my naïveté and gregarious nature get me in trouble.” She lifted her chin. “But I bounced back.” After years of heartache.

“What was his name?” Kiew asked, her voice thick with understanding.

“Trouble.”

Kiew eyed her.

They both burst into laughter, drawing more than a few looks from the other patrons. Kiew tucked her head, making Cassie laugh more. Finally she caught her breath, though she felt a snigger tugging at her. “What about you? What was his name?”

“Me?” Kiew tried to look surprised.

“Yes, I can tell—”

“Miss Tang.”

Kiew glared at the attendant, but then her gaze flicked to the side. Her normally pale face went white. She immediately set aside her napkin, lifted her small clutch from the floor, and stood. “If you will excuse me, Cassandra.”

A northeasterly blast would’ve been warmer.

Cassie searched for the source of her friend’s sudden change. Three men stood near the trickling fountain in the center of the room. One wearing a fierce expression and staring at Kiew. The man was none other than Daniel Jin.

A man broke away from their group and started toward her. Dread spilling into her stomach, Cassie eased back, hiding behind the foliage, willing herself to vanish.

“Miss Walker?”

Cassie couldn’t move when she met the man’s gaze.

“Please come with me.”

W
hat do you call this again?”

“
Qorma-e-Aloo Baloo
,” Eamon said as he finished the last of the dinner he’d prepared. “My mother loved it.”

“She doesn’t anymore? Maybe you should stop cooking it then.”

Removing his plate to the sink gave him the chance to hide the pain of her teasing. “She died. Four years ago.”

“Oh.” When he turned around, Brie sat with her head bowed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“No worries.” He scrubbed the plate and dried it off then set it in the cabinet with the other furnished dishes. “I know you meant no harm.”

She was at his side, a little of her serving still on the china. “Really, I’m sorry. My mom was a champion—raising five kids and homeschooling them.”

Eamon took her dish and cleaned it, too.

Palms on the counter behind her, she pressed her back against it. “Do you have brothers or sisters?”

“No,” he said with a sheepish grin. “Mom always thought I was enough to handle.”

“Is she the one who taught you to clean up? You’re like a househusband or something.”

“My first flatmate was a slob. Disgusting habits. Drove me mad with the bugs it drew.”

Brie stared at him as she stood there. He wiped the towel around the sink, hoping she’d break the silence. But she simply stared.

Eamon shifted toward her, a hand propped on the counter. He peered down into her blue eyes. “Do I have something between my teeth?”

Brie didn’t look away. “No. You just look… different without your beard.”

He dragged his fingers over his jawline. “Feels naked.”

“It looks good.”

Words like that, simple phrases, could be innocent. Or they could have hidden meaning. He was sick of trying to figure out clues. “Okay.” He tossed down the towel. Planted his hands on either side of her and leaned in.

Surprise and something else slid into her expression as she eased back slightly.

“I’m not going to play games. Life is too short and I’m getting old. You intrigue me, Brie Hastings. Your character and professionalism speak loudly. You’re beautiful and fascinating. I want to know if you feel the same way.”

She hesitated, her gaze evading his until she finally ducked under his arm and moved to the table. “I really don’t think this conversation is appropriate.”

Eamon faced her, hands on his belt.
“Inappropriate?”

“Yes,” she said, nodding to the room around them. “We are on assignment.”

“So?” If it weren’t for the assignment, for the times they were put together on missions, he wouldn’t have met her.

“And we’re… alone.”

Eamon drew up, affronted by her insinuation. She thought he’d take advantage of her while they were alone. “Brie—”

“No.” She held up a hand. “I get it.”

“I don’t think you do.” He tried to temper the frustration and indignation clawing through him. “My attraction to you started the first time I met you. It has nothing to do with being alone and wanting to take advantage—you don’t seriously think that of me, do you?”

She averted her gaze, swallowing.

“Brilliant,” he muttered.

“See?” She swallowed. “See why I felt it was inappropriate? You’re upset now.”

“Because you just called my character into question. I serve with honor. I live by that. When have you ever seen anything to the contrary from me?”

“Titanis, I only meant that opening this box now invites trouble.”

Unbelievable. “Understood, Lieutenant Hastings.” He stretched his jaw and worked to smother his frustration. “We have work to do.” Moving to the table took a colossal effort, to not show agitation. He lifted a document on which they’d detailed tasks to accomplish from within Takkar One. “We need to walk the building. I’ll head to the basement.”

By the time he stood in the elevator, Eamon couldn’t figure out what made him angrier—that she had accused him of trying to sleep with her, or that when he’d reset the button on their relationship, she didn’t comment. Or when he walked out, she hadn’t called him back. Apologized.

With his weapon in his side holster, Eamon made his way down to the basement with his camera and a whole lot of insult. He wanted to put his fist through a wall. How could she even think that? He’d never made a move. But she was right. It wasn’t the right time. He’d missed that mark. Walking halls and planting more devices would clear his head. Put distance between his mistake and her reaction.

He glanced at the blueprint of the building on his secure phone and banked right as he stepped out of the elevator. Six paces brought him to a T-split, the walls nondescript, the ground bare cement. A blue sign indicated right for laundry and vending, left for maintenance and electrical. The drone of machines and industrial blowers pressed against his ears.

A door clanked open behind him. Eamon checked over his shoulder. A man strode from the door marked S
TAIRS
and gave him a nod before banking left.

Eamon stood at the juncture, glancing down both sides. Light spilled out of two open doors to the right. And to the left, darkness had a fist hold. According to the engineering plans, the rooms down there would be of little interest. The maintenance and electrical were no more than closet sized. One in, one out. He wasn’t sure which one the man had entered. But he must be cramped. Eamon would need to wait for the man to leave, or he’d show his hand here.