Pulling it from the breast pocket of his suit jacket, licking his lips, tasting me on them, he answered.
“Yeah?” He waited a moment, not looking at me, and I saw the flush on his neck and cheeks, and watched him clench and unclench his left fist. “We’re coming out.”
Hanging up, he turned to me and took a breath. He was having trouble going from kissing me to stepping away. I understood the issue; I was off balance as well.
We both grabbed the cases we’d been issued that contained earpieces and mics so small and inconspicuous they looked like something straight out of a Bond film.
“Testing. Are we live?” I asked the comms agent.
“Yes, sir, we are,” a man said in my ear, his voice rich and warm and as clear as if he were standing beside me. The feds had good tech. “Special Agent Bauer, using the alias Jesse Hickok, and Croy Esca, using the alias Nash Colter, we are live and in color, with two SUVs passing through the front gate and en route to your location.”
“And you are?” I asked, because I had thought Trousdale would be there.
“Special Agent Ryder Lund at your service, number two on-site, backing up the always perky Dal-Less Bunny Boy Bauer on this fine Friday morning in Sin City, US of A.”
I did a slow pan to Dallas, whose face was clenched up in pain. “Bunny Boy?” I mouthed the words.
He shook his head. “Not that I’m not thrilled that you’re back from DC, Lund, but where the hell is Trousdale?”
Snickering. “Your boss, my boss, everybody’s boss, the great and powerful Special Agent in Charge Alexander Higa, got back early from vacation and sent Special Agent Edward Trousdale back to South Lake Tahoe, where he came from.”
There was clapping then, along with hooting and whistling from all the other people on the comms. Apparently Trousdale had not only gotten on Dallas’s nerves but the entire team’s as well.
“And the crowd goes wild,” Lund said, chuckling.
“I like him,” I mouthed to Dallas.
He groaned loudly.
“You all right, there, cowboy?” Lund asked Dallas. I could only assume the “cowboy” came from Dallas, but Bunny Boy?
“Could you just––”
“And because your boss is back, and Moran went back to Reno where he belongs, this is no longer a joint FBI, DEA op, but an FBI op with DEA oversight.”
More clapping, lots of whistling, and even a few oorahs thrown in for good measure by the Marines in the mix.
“For the record, my loyal listeners, there are no, I repeat no, DEA agents on the comms, as they are providing their expertise from a secure location where the long-suffering Reina Montez, Assistant Special Agent in Charge, has them secured.”
Another round of raucous cheering.
“Say something to your fans, Rei-Rei,” Lund prodded his boss.
“I’m going to have you murdered, Lund,” she informed him. “Bauer, Esca, you two ready to go?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Dallas said quickly.
“Excellent,” she replied and then sighed. “Lund, you have the comms.”
“Everybody’s parked in place, and we…are…live.”
“Shall we?” Dallas said, giving me a ghost of a smile.
We walked out of the bedroom together, but as soon as we got to the front door, he slowed, letting me lead so that when I stepped outside and descended the steps that led to the driveway, I stood alone, waiting for my guests.
Six men poured out of the first SUV, and four more men and two women from the second. They all approached, but the men stopped not far from their vehicles. The women, however, did not. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, the woman on the left slowed and took off her sunglasses. It was a power move, and I appreciated the message behind it. She wanted me to look her in the eye.
Ella Guzman stood there in front of me, waiting for my reaction.
It had been years since we’d last seen each other.
We had been friends in college. She had been, in fact, the only one who I let see me at all. Thrown together in various classes by chance, a bond had formed that I didn’t see coming. A friendship that had included the few and far between weekends that I was free, spent with her family. She was the only person I’d wanted to hold on to when I left California, but I was also a big believer in clean breaks, so, as cold and hard as it was, it had been for the best to never look back. But as I stared at her, I felt the pang of missing seeing her change from the girl she was then to the woman I was looking at now.
The long, thick mahogany hair with highlights of henna was the same, as were her remarkable teak-colored eyes. What was new were the laugh lines around those eyes, the sleek muscles in her arms and legs, a vitality that crackled off her, and the grace and confidence that she carried herself with. She was fearsome now, and I saw that clearly.