Debra Webb - Colby Control

She doubted breaking and entering was a part of the orientation at the Colby Agency. The whole staff was a little uptight for Nora’s taste.

He shoved the purse back at her. “Let’s go,” he ordered.

Her gaze narrowed with suspicion. “Where?”

“Time for a conference call.”

The man didn’t waste any time. She’d give him that.

“Look here, Tallant.” She had no idea how she would do it, but she had to convince him to go with the flow on this one.

“What?” he growled.

Her purse vibrated.

Surely it was too soon for … She opened her purse, stared at the screen on her phone.

A call to Vandiver’s room phone.

Nora held up a hand for Tallant to wait as she opened her phone. Two more rings buzzed before Vandiver answered the call.

“Ten p.m. Your contact will meet you at the Parisian Hotel, under the Eiffel Tower. Bring half the cash and a photo.”

Male voice. No detectable accent.

“What does this contact look like?” Vandiver wanted to know. His voice sounded strained … nervous.

“Don’t worry,” the unidentified man said. “The contact will recognize you.”

The caller dropped off the open line.

Vandiver swore, then hung up.

Cash and a picture.

Nora closed her phone and lifted her gaze to Tallant’s. “Ten o’clock tonight. He’s bringing cash and a photo to a contact.”

Understanding dawned in her partner’s eyes.

It was going down.

And she had gotten the heads-up.

She savored his stunned expression. “That, Mr. Play-by-the-Rules, is how it’s done.”

Friedman was out of control. Ted paced his room.

His so-called partner sat on the sofa, acting as if he was the one who’d done something stupid.

For the last half hour he’d contemplated calling Victoria.

But … Friedman had garnered a major lead.

Less than twenty-four hours on-site and she had a serious lead.

He’d scarcely made any headway with the alleged mistress.

But then he hadn’t broken two laws, one being federal, in the process.

“You’re overreacting.”

When he whipped around, he fully intended to glare at her with all the frustration and impatience twisting inside him. Didn’t happen. Instead his traitorous gaze zeroed straight in on those long, toned legs, one crossed over the other, where the hem of her sleek black dress rested provocatively at the tops of her thighs.

“I am not—” with effort he shifted his focus to her face, which was every bit as distracting “—overreacting.” Ted took a breath, ordered his respiration to slow to a more reasonable rate.

He was ticked off, that was all. As if to defy his assessment, his errant gaze wandered back to those shapely legs. Gritting his teeth, he forced his attention upward. He blinked when his eyes committed mutiny once more and stalled on her breasts, encased tightly beneath that slinky black fabric. “We have a certain standard and protocol at the Colby Agency.” He managed to look her dead in the eye at that point. “It doesn’t include breaking the law unless it’s a matter of life and death.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin in defiance. “Isn’t it? Vandiver is planning to off his wife, right?”

Another deep breath. Stay calm. He needed patience here. As much to get his head on straight as to tolerate her attitude. “But the danger is not imminent,” he countered, “and the wife is under our protection. Those terms set the tone and pacing of our movements.”

The Colby Agency had definitely broken laws in the past; just a few months ago breaking some major ones had been unavoidable. But those instances were the exception, not the rule. “As long as the goal can be accomplished the right way, that’s the way we do it,” he added.

He started pacing again, mostly to prevent staring at any part of her. Around the office she wore slacks and blouses. Not once had she worn anything that drew such attention to her … shape. Was it really necessary for her to be decked out like this now? Clearing the thoughts from his head, he said in conclusion, “I don’t understand why that concept is so difficult for you to comprehend.”

Standard field operating procedures, client relations, all of this had been gone over time and time again since the merger between the Colby Agency and the Equalizers began. Friedman seemed to be the only one who refused to embrace the ultimate objective.

She stood, planted her hands on her hips, accentuating the perfect curve from that narrow waist to gently sloping hips. “Fine,” she announced with obvious disdain. “I got it. Are we going to put together a strategy for tonight or not? Time is wasting.”

The set of those full lips told him she was only saying what he wanted to hear. She had no intention of changing her MO, any more than she planned to acquiesce to his lead.

But she was right.

Whether this involved the wife or not, Vandiver had a clandestine rendezvous tonight, and it was his and Friedman’s job to determine the nature of the meeting.

“Unless another call is intercepted,” he informed her, “we’ll attempt to get close enough to eavesdrop on Vandiver’s conversation with the contact. We’ll snap a few photos and forward those to the agency for analysis and to Rockford, in case the contact shows up at his location.”

Friedman strutted across the room to the wet bar. While Ted struggled to evict from his head the way her hips swayed, she poured herself a double shot of bourbon, neat. He opened his mouth to remind her that Colby investigators didn’t drink on the job, but she started talking first.

“That could work.” She shrugged. “But if we want to ensure success, we intercept Vandiver. I’ll act as the contact. Get the story straight from the horse’s mouth while you keep an eye out for the real contact. Distract him or her if necessary.”

She was unquestionably out of her mind. The flash of fury in her eyes warned that he’d stated the thought out loud.

“You have a better plan?” she challenged, then took a long swallow of her drink.

He crossed the room to stand in front of her, took the drink from her hand and set it aside before parking his arms over his chest to match her stance. “First of all, we’re here unarmed. We don’t know who this contact is. If he or she is local, chances are he or she is armed. In view of the fact that we haven’t been able to assess just how desperate Vandiver is, maintaining a cautionary distance is the proper step. We will prepare for that strategy.”

Though they weren’t armed with weapons, Ted was prepared with the usual intelligence-gathering equipment. All he needed was the place and time—those he had thanks to Friedman—and a proper vantage point for watching and listening. Today’s technology provided ample means to gather the necessary information without face-to-face contact.

She glared at the drink he’d set aside and then at him. “That’s an option, I suppose.” She tilted her face up to his, making him all too aware of just how close they were standing. “But I like my plan better.”

“That’s irrelevant.” He turned away, headed for the bed, where his luggage still lay unpacked, other than the black trousers and shirt he’d selected for making contact with Camille Soto. He dug through the bag and picked out the equipment they would need for tonight. Binoculars. Personal parabolic bionic ear. The lighting in the area would be sufficient so as not to require night vision.

“I should change,” she called out to him.

That would definitely make life easier for him.

He strode back to the sitting room as she reached the door. “Give me five minutes and I’ll go with you.” No way was he letting her out of his sight. She would ditch him and do this her way. He had her number already.