Becoming Rain (Burying Water 2)

His head falls back with a big groan. “Ohhhh.”

Thank God he’s not smart enough to question why on earth I’d wear a cream-colored dress that barely covers my ass when I’m on my period.

“You could still come up, though . . . right?” The way he looks at me—hopeful, almost pleading—well, apparently he’s plenty smart enough to understand that there’s nothing stopping at least one of us from getting off tonight.

I’m sure as hell not having the sounds of that recorded, even if Sinclair condones it.

I pat my abdomen. “I’ve got bad cramps. I could use the sleep.”

He nods and offers me a reluctant smile. “I could take care of you? You know, get some Tylenol or . . .” He laughs awkwardly. “I don’t know what. I’m new to all this.”

“You’re sweet, thank you. But I just need some sleep. And Stanley serves as a good heating pad.” The fur-ball creates a rather inconvenient obstacle in the center of my bed.

Luke meets me at the back of the car and walks me out hand-in-hand, stopping to punch in the code for the garage door that will hopefully keep this one from being stolen. That’s when I spot Warner behind a pillar, baseball cap pulled down over his brow.

Gun drawn.

My mouth drops open. What the hell is he doing? Luke has met him! He thinks he’s my brother!

We make eye contact, and Warner retreats a few steps, the relief visible across his face. Any second now, though, Luke is going to look up and spot him. So I do the only thing I can think of. I slip my hand around Luke’s neck and pull him down into my mouth in one of those kisses made for movies, which buys Warner enough time to dart behind a large truck.

“I thought you needed to go home?” His blue eyes dance as they take me in.

I smile, my hands rubbing the contours of his chest that I so desperately want to spend the night with. “I just wanted to make sure you knew how I felt about you.”

He leans down and matches my kiss. Somewhere behind us, I assume Warner is watching.

“Are you insane?” I yell into my phone, kicking my heels off. I figure if my handler’s about to tear me a new asshole and get me kicked off the case, I should go down swinging.

“What the hell was I supposed to do? The last thing I heard was that 24 made you in the club. Then nothing. Fucking static!”

I frown. “What? You mean you couldn’t hear us after we parked?” I quickly play the damning conversation back in my head, trying to remember what was said and when.

“I don’t know if it was because of the underground vents, but I couldn’t hear a thing. I thought . . .” Warner’s words trail off.

“You thought my cover was blown.” It all makes sense now.

“Yeah. That’s the only reason I would risk the case. You know that.”

I flop into my couch, feeling the lead weight float away. They didn’t catch Luke’s comment about the gardens. “I get it. Sorry for yelling at you.”

“Did he say anything important?”

“Nope.” I kick off my heels. “Just small talk. Sorry.”

“You kidding me? We got some good intel tonight. I called one of our translators and had him listen to the recording right away. Basically, 24 is going into business with someone else and it involves SUVs. The Russians are pissed.”

“A deal with 36, maybe?” Shit, I’m not supposed to know that. Luke only told me about that possibility on the yacht that night. I quickly add, “They’ve been spending a lot of time together, so that would make sense.”

“They didn’t say. But 24 did say, and I quote, ‘Luke only does what I ask him to.’ ”

I squeeze my eyes shut. Every day, the evidence against Luke dribbles in. Soon, it’s not going to matter whether he incriminates himself through me. We’re going to catch him, regardless. Maybe that’s for the best. This is going to end anyway. Maybe Luke never has to know who I am, what I’ve done. He will go to jail and I’ll go back to Washington, D.C., and that’ll be the end of this. That would certainly be the best outcome for me after the hole I’ve dug for myself.

But the possibility of this doesn’t bring me any relief.

“It’d be great if you could find out exactly what 24 asked 12 to do.”

I push the ever-present tension away so I can get through this call. “Sure. I’ll just pull my wand out and get Luke to speak.”

There’s a pause. “Luke?”

“I meant 12. Look, I spend so much time with him. What do you expect?”

“I expect you to keep your head on straight.”

I roll my eyes, silently chastising myself. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, they talked about a deal going down next week. Try to find out when and where.”

“I’ll just pull my wand out and—”

“Alright, smart-ass.”

“You’ve been in my shoes before, Warner. You know when a target is ready to trust you. 12 isn’t ready yet. I asked him if he understood what they were saying and he immediately brushed me off. You heard it.”

“Yeah, I did. But you need to start getting deeper. Don’t get me wrong—you’re doing great. We’re getting somewhere, inch by inch. But we need to move this along now.”

“Why?” Warner’s never pushed me before. That’s his boss’s role. “Is Sinclair worried about getting an extension on the warrant?”