Authors: Kennedy Layne
“Of course, sir,” the hostess said with compassion written all over her face. She reached for the leather folder containing today’s menu and specials. She also chose the smaller twin containing the extensive wine list. “I’m so sorry to hear about your wife’s passing.”
“Oh, she was a beautiful woman,” Ryland offered, keeping up the part of a man twenty years his senior. He’d gotten rather good at altering his appearance and today was no exception. “Her hair was golden once just like…”
By the time Ryland was done describing the woman he’d left this morning, the hostess had seated him at his table. He’d never have the life he’d just portrayed, but it was a nice change to actually describe such a fairytale. That was quite humorous considering he’d always told his sister there was no such thing for people like them. There just wasn’t. It was a fact of life. Crest’s gaze never wavered from the menu in front of him, but the man never ceased to amaze him.
“You have roughly five minutes before my business meeting commences,” Crest granted, never lifting his eyes to make contact. “Make it count.”
“Utley is most likely our target, which is why I haven’t pulled Fallon out from her office,” Ryland said, taking his napkin and laying it across his lap. He’d decided to have lunch and he wouldn’t be rushed. It could very well be his last meal. “You should have allowed her to stay at home today. I don’t appreciate you putting her life on the line before we have all the facts.”
“I’m not the one who fucked her last night and left her, hat in hand, at first morning’s light.” Crest did glance up at that, his dark gaze alerting Ryland to the fact that he didn’t appreciate his choices. “You put her life on the line when you allowed her interest in you to become more than just professional. You don’t get to have an opinion on how I keep her safe.”
“Touché.” Ryland took a moment to look over the menu and then placed his order when the waiter appeared. An Old World Sicilian version of trout amandine over steamed asparagus with red potatoes sounded absolutely delicious. “Now, where were we?”
Crest gave a resigned sigh before reaching into his suit jacket and removing his cell phone. Ryland could appreciate the advanced technology, especially since he’d been using burner phones as of late. He lifted the glass of water, mindful of his make-up as he quenched his thirst.
“We were about to conclude this meeting,” Crest answered as he slid his phone back inside his suit jacket. He took his napkin and quietly laid it in between the silverware placed in front of him. It appeared that he’d had a change of heart in conducting his business meeting here. “You decided to cut yourself out of the investigation when you left Fallon’s apartment this morning.”
Ryland found himself in a precarious situation where he wanted to inquire about Fallon’s reaction and emotional state, but did not want to give Crest any leverage over him that he might use at a later date. She’d unquestionably inserted herself into his life in a manner he wasn’t quite unaccustomed to.
“Would you be interested to know that Moza is in the city and is currently pondering taking matters into his own hands?” Ryland was careful with the information he gave out, mindful to keep a few cards close to his chest. Moza was a wild card and needed to be removed from the game. The odds of poker were a known entity—a creature of distinct predictability that could be calculated to a certain outcome based on the play of others. Wild cards made poker a game of chance. “As a matter of fact, he appeared somewhat anxious and unpredictable.”
Ryland remained composed while Crest took his time deciding on whether or not to bite into the morsel he was offering. It was too good to pass up and the head of CSA would do what had to be done. He might not appreciate the gift horse that was delivering up such goods, but it would be a coup for both of them. Crest pulled his ringing phone out once more before commenting on Ryland’s offering.
“I’m aware of it now, Fallon,” Crest said into the phone, leaning forward and resting his elbow on the table. “He’s currently in my presence baiting me with information that I haven’t decided what to do with, so I’ll have to call you back at a later time.”
The waiter placed Ryland’s first course in true Italian style in front of him. A pasta primavera was in this case a simple pasta dish served with bread and wine. His main entrée would follow and then a salad to cleanse his palate for a dessert that he would have to skip. He found that he’d been distracted as the waiter asked if he needed anything else at the moment. He declined, somewhat anxious to hear what Fallon thought she knew when she was currently tied to her desk. She certainly managed to keep all of them guessing and this was no exception. Crest appeared somewhat agitated by her interruption as he put away his phone. He stood from the table.
“Location?”
It appeared that Crest wasn’t in the sharing mood like Ryland was at the moment, or else he would have disclosed the reason Fallon had placed the call to begin with. That was fine, although a tad disappointing. He took a bite of the angel hair pasta covered in virgin olive oil and chopped parsley. He savored the elegant pleasure of such a simple dish. Only then did he lay down his fork and use his napkin.
“He’ll be on the third floor of the Federal Election Commission Office building. The southwest corner office just above the Hard Rock Café where Utley will be having lunch today across from the Hoover building. Utley will exit the FBI Headquarters annex building on the southwest corner and proceed north along the east side of 10
th
Street straight on into Moza’s sights.” Ryland finally picked up the rocks glass of Crown Royal XR whiskey, minus the ice of course, that the server had placed in front of him. He did appreciate the rich flavor. “You can thank me later.”
“I don’t intend to thank you considering you want Moza out of your way for whatever reason. It appears we’re doing each other a favor which equals a blank.” Crest stepped to the side and then pushed his chair in, alerting the waiter that he had other business to attend and wouldn’t be staying. He stopped short of leaving to impart his overrated two-cents worth of wisdom, almost ruining the next course of the five-star meal that was about to be placed in front of Ryland. “I actually commend you for leaving Fallon’s apartment this morning. Try to keep it that way.”
Ryland took another bite of his al dente pasta before leaning back and allowing the waiter to remove the plate and replace it with his main entrée. He finished chewing his food slowly as he contemplated over this most recent verbal exchange, figuring it might be just a little harder to leave this restaurant now since Crest had no doubt contacted Schultz Jessalyn to update him on Ryland’s location. That was fine with him.
What Ryland didn’t appreciate was that Crest was getting into his personal business with Fallon. He hadn’t earned that right. It was odd, but something had stirred within him upon Fallon’s call to Crest. He’d never been possessive over women, and while he understood that Fallon was very much her own woman…she was also his now. Ryland would see to it that she remained safe, not Crest.
“Sir, is there something wrong with your meal?”
“Not at all. It was just as it was when my late wife was here with me,” Ryland replied, picking up the cane with a small smile. He reached for his wallet and then left an appropriate amount to cover the bill as well as a substantial tip. “I just realized there is something I need to take care of and the nostalgia is just a bit overwhelming. Also, would you be so kind as to call a cab to the front for me?”
* * * *
Ryland walked through the main doors of the Washington D.C. FBI Field Office on 4
th
Street and wasn’t in the least surprised to find Townes waiting with that permanent frown on his face. Had his brother’s death done that or some other life’s lesson? Ryland experienced a twinge of remorse for what this man had gone through, but it vanished just as quickly. The pain in his temples returned with a vengeance, but he had to concentrate to ignore it, just as he disregarded the male figure before him.
“Good afternoon, Townes.” Ryland stepped around the man and continued on his way to the elevators. He’d removed any traces of make-up before arriving, although he would have preferred the time to take a shower. That wasn’t likely to happen considering the timeline he’d set for himself, so the restroom back at the restaurant had to do for now. “I take it that Fallon is still in her office?”
“Drawing more attention to her might not be such a good idea.” Townes fell into step and didn’t stop until they reached the elevator banks. “Food for thought.”
Ryland was aware that Townes wasn’t the best conversationalist, but he had to admit he got his point across rather effectively. His short sentence also indicated he was well aware that Ryland had spoken to Crest at the restaurant. Townes was polite enough to press the button for Fallon’s floor and then slide his security pass through the identification device. They rode the elevator in silence side by side, giving Ryland time to formulate a response. He always made sure to verbalize his words to have the most impact, especially considering the small earpiece Townes was sporting.
“Let me know if you need help choosing a name for your new venture.” Ryland felt a sliver of satisfaction when Townes rubbed the scar on his jaw, showing his agitation. It would be nice to be a fly on the wall when Taryn—who was undoubtedly listening in—questioned what Ryland had meant. It always aided him greatly to know things before others, but he wouldn’t outright give away Townes’ secret. There would be no fun in that. The bell rang to indicate they’d arrived on Fallon’s floor. “I appreciate the
company
on the ride up.”
Ryland stepped out of the elevator when the doors slid open, not bothering to wait for Townes to lead the way. He’d memorized the layout of Fallon’s office months ago. There was never too much information to be learned. Her perfume was the first thing that he noticed as he crossed the threshold of her office.
“I’ve missed you,” Ryland murmured, walking up behind Fallon who was currently waiting for a rather small machine to make her a cup of coffee. She startled with a gasp and turned into his arms, exactly as he’d planned. His lips covered hers and prevented her from saying anything to ruin this wonderful moment of surprise. Last night had definitely altered their relationship in a manner not of his choosing, but some of the finer things in life were gifts not to be turned away. He’d somehow adapt to having her in his life, should he live out the day. “Hmmm, I thought you might want to know what Crest was keeping from you during our phone conversation.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” Fallon asked in a soft but rather harsh voice as she pushed him away. Ryland used his thumb to wipe away the small smear of lipstick underneath her bottom lip. “You can’t just—”
“Show up at your office? My dear, I’m not quite the estranged husband yet,” Ryland finished before walking to one of her guest chairs. He’d caught sight of Townes out in the hallway before Fallon closed her door. “Technically, I’m a free man that can freely walk the capital of our country at will. Remember my pardon bestowed upon me by the President of these United States? That gives me every right to visit the woman who warmed my bed last night, wouldn’t you agree, darling?”
“E.D.A. recently sent in a team of men that ostensibly worked for this very organization to retrieve you without any hesitation to remove whatever obstacle was in their way.” Fallon walked back to her desk, ensuring she kept a safe distance from where he was sitting. If he were any other man, he would take offense to that. He crossed his legs and rested his hands on the arms of the chair as he listened to her deductive reasoning and took in her appearance. She’d certainly dressed in one of her better suits, as well as pulling her hair back into a twist that maintained her feminism while it still spoke in volumes of her confidence. She rested her palms against her desk, leaning forward as she finished with her speech. He had a mind to take her right here and now. “You just handed yourself to Quaid or Utley with your presence here. Whichever one of them is now in charge, you can bet he has someone contacting him right now that you’re in this building. Not to mention the security personnel that are at this very minute shitting a massive brick after their facial recognition software sounded the alarm after you walked through the main entrance. It was a foolish move to leave my apartment this morning without having more information, it was downright idiotic for you to meet with Moza out in the open at Lafayette Square, and you just signed your death warrant by walking into this building. Three strikes, Ryland. Do you know what that means?”
“I can honestly say no woman or man alive has had the audacity to call my past decisions foolish, no one has ever referred to me as an idiot without penalty, and I will try not to spend today as my last day…although the latter is technically out of my control.” Ryland paused and took his time to study Fallon, whose cheeks were flushed to the point of the seductive color of her rouge lipstick. Her blue eyes were bright with frustration, but there was also a hint of hurt. He’d done that and for that—for once in his life—he was truly sorry. “Fallon, I needed to act quickly this morning after I received notification that Moza was in town.”
Ryland purposefully didn’t mention Cyril, knowing Fallon would have a deep-seated need to share that information with Crest due to her sense of utilitarian loyalty. It was actually a trait that he admired about her, considering she’d all but put her life on hold for his. However practical it was…it was not always attractive. The ends she would travel to in order to assure that he had some semblance of a life after this was nothing short of astonishing…and after all he’d done in return. Would she ever be able to accept who he was though and not fantasize about the young man she thought was somewhere locked inside of him?
“Crest rang me a few moments ago,” Fallon divulged, sitting down carefully in her chair as if she were about to trigger a bomb. “Moza’s been detained. Schultz has taken him into custody but so far he isn’t talking.”