Chapter 35
Thirty-Five
brISTOL SAT in Aubry’s apartment, awaiting her assignment for the day. As he had mentioned last night, his boss joined them today. The man exuded an overkill of testosterone and the need to show his superiority.
“All right,” Baxter said. “Where are the bugs?”
“On his belt buckle like Agent Marshall suggested.” She figured going with the formal name was a better route than letting Aubry’s boss know how close, or at the very least how informal, their dynamic had become. He’d almost seemed a friend at times, and she didn’t do friends.
“One is not enough,” Baxter grunted, tugging her from her thoughts.
“He wears the buckle the majority of the time,” Aubry said, coming to stand beside her.
“Most of the time isn’t good enough,” Baxter scoffed. “We need a bug in his office.”
“Dalton doesn’t leave her alone often or for long.” Aubry paced the length of the rectangular kitchen area while Baxter stood over her, beefy hands on his hips.
“She’ll find a way.” His voice was coarse, raspy.
“If he catches her . . .” Aubry looked at her. Was that fear in his eyes? “It won’t be pretty.”
“This was the deal. We got her out, and she helps us catch Dalton. She’ll be fine. I’ve reviewed your files on her. She’s very resourceful, aren’t you?” Baxter stared down at her.
She bit back the rude remark she wanted to barb Baxter with; he’d toss her back in prison if she didn’t cooperate. The man was sending her deeper into darkness, and he obviously didn’t care if she came back out. She studied Aubry, now leaning against the counter, resignation on his handsome face.
Handsome? Where had that come from this time? He was in fact handsome. Quite handsome, but he was a Fed.
“Okay. We’re all in agreement?” Baxter asked.
Aubry grabbed another minuscule microphone, but this time he put it in a pillbox, added vitamins, and closed it before handing it to her. “Take your time. Wait until you feel you can safely plant it.”
“On a lamp near the desk is best,” Baxter said. “I’ve got to run, but I expect this done today.”
He didn’t waste any time leaving. Thank goodness and good riddance.
“It’s too easy to find a bug on a lamp,” Aubry said, once again leaning against the counter, his hands braced on the Formica behind him. “The underside of a drawer is best.”
“Won’t that mess with the sound quality?”
“Not at that close range. Far less likely to be found.”
“Oh.” She’d thought about getting caught in his office—either one of them—but she hadn’t let herself consider what would happen if Dalton found one of the bugs.
Aubry pushed off the counter and strode to her side. He fumbled with his arms like he was trying to figure out what to do with them. Where to place his fidgeting hands. Finally, he crossed his arms and shifted to stand in front of her. “It’ll be okay. I’ll be listening not far away.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“I’ll be in a van labeled for a painting company two streets away. If anything goes down, I’ll be there in a flash.”
“Faster than a bullet?”
Aubry sunk to his haunches in front of her chair, his hands once again fidgeting. Did he . . . no. She was being ridiculous. Agent Marshall didn’t want to take her hand. He would never think of her romantically. He’d put her in prison, for goodness’ sake.
“You’re brilliant and savvy. You’ve got this. You alluded me for over a year.”
“So?”
“My next longest closure rate after you is two months. You were exceptionally good.”
“Apparently not good enough. You caught me.”
“Because you let your guard down. Because of him.”
Was there a ring of jealousy in his voice?
No. Her mind was playing tricks on her today. Probably because of the panic surging through her at what Baxter was making her do.
“You go in and wait for a safe time. When you’re sure you have enough time, plant the bug and scoot out. Okay?”
She nodded.
“You’ve got this.”
She hoped he was right.