Michael and her friend snuggled on either side of her and the pillow was removed from under her hips. “Sleep,” he said, rubbing her back.
And because she couldn’t do anything else, she let exhaustion carry her away.
In theory, Bastian’s plan to distance himself from Michael had been a good one.
But working for the man made avoiding him damned near impossible. Katrina, too, since the two of them had been joined at the hip for days. They arrived together, took lunch in his office, left together at the end of the day. Bastian and everyone else in the building would have to be blind and stupid not to notice how they glowed in each other’s company, the lingering looks filled with lust. God, it hurt to be on the outside.
Sometimes Bastian caught them glancing at him, their expressions reflecting sadness and… pity? And he would turn away and find something pressing to do, because pity he absolutely could not fucking take.
He’d rather plunge a knife into his heart.
Rolling his chair forward, he attempted to focus on the reports on his desk from their agents in the field, and their computer surveillance experts — aka hackers — as well. Neither of Dietz’s henchmen who were cooling their heels in the basement prison were saying much that SHADO didn’t already know.
The hit men didn’t know Dietz’s whereabouts, but gleefully claimed he must be close, ready to make his move. Bastian agreed, but his agents couldn’t get a handle on where Dietz and Tio were hiding. It was like the earth had swallowed the fuckers whole, though he knew they’d never be so lucky. Those two were waiting, biding their time in the darkness like a couple of vampires. Ever since lackey number two had tried to off Bastian the other day, he’d been careful.
Maybe… too careful.
The idea took root and began to grow, and Bastian sat tapping his pen on his desk, considering how the plan would proceed. There were several drawbacks, but the reward far outweighed the risk. Mr. President wanted Dietz captured and eliminated, whatever the cost. If Bastian could lure the government’s most-wanted criminal into a trap, the agency would earn a fat bonus. And everyone would have peace of mind.
If only he could put his plan into action without Michael’s approval, but whatever their personal problems, the man was technically his boss. For the time being, anyway. Bastian knew the FBI would take him back in a heartbeat, and he’d been giving a lot of thought to calling his old director. For now, he had a job to do.
Pushing from his desk, he walked the short distance to Michael’s office and knocked on the doorframe before stepping inside. Michael looked up from his own mound of papers, happiness briefly lighting his face before he seemed to catch himself, face blanking, his welcome cool and professional. Bastian wondered whether he’d imagined the fleeting joy in the man’s eyes.
“Come in. What’s up?”
Bastian closed the door behind him and took a seat. “I need to talk to you about something important. An idea I have.”
Michael leaned forward, elbows on his desk. His voice softened, sounding hopeful. “I’d love to hear it.”
He hesitated. Surely the man didn’t believe it involved something personal? Like he was here to bridge the canyon between them? No, that was wishful thinking on Bastian’s part. “I have an idea to draw Dietz from hiding.”
“Oh.” Michael blinked, looking deflated. “Okay, let’s hear it.”
He nodded. “You and I have been extremely careful not to be caught unaware since the attempted hits on us both. We’ve battened down the hatches too much.”
“Explain.” His friend frowned.
“We’re not accessible, so neither is Dietz. We know he’s close by. He’s waiting for an opportunity to move, which so far hasn’t come along. I propose we give him that opportunity.”
“You want to set up a sting.”
“Yes.” Here came the part Michael wasn’t going to like. “With me as the bait.”
“No fucking way.” Sitting back in his chair, he shook his head. “Find someone else. Get Emma to make up one of the agents to play your role. We’ll find someone your height and build, put him in a blond wig—”
“Which is exactly what Dietz will expect us to do. But if I go out to a club on my own, supposedly to pick up some action, he might be confident in making a move.”
“I’ll have to pull the men back way too far to make him believe you’re really alone,” his friend said in a low voice. “It’s too dangerous.”
“What’s the alternative? We let him remain at large indefinitely, and just hope that we somehow get lucky and our computer guys or someone else accidentally gets a lead?” He paused. “I’ve gotten three calls from the president this week, demanding to know how close we are to catching this asshole. How about you?”
“Five.”
“What choice do we have, Michael? If we don’t do something, Dietz is going to reorganize what’s left of his men, and when he does, we’re all in deep shit,” Bastian insisted. “We’re not going to catch him without risk. It isn’t possible.”
The defeated slump of Michael’s shoulders signaled his capitulation on the matter. “I wish the bait didn’t have to be you.”
“Well, it has to be one of us, and it makes more sense for it to be me. I’m the one he went after last, and I’m sure he wants to hurt you by getting to me. We’ll make him think we’ve relaxed our guard, that I’ve gone out with no agents trailing me for protection, and I’m positive he’ll move.”
“That’s what worries me. The physical distance that will be between you and our men is problematic. If he goes after you, you’ll be alone for as much as five minutes before backup arrives.” He paused, thinking. “You’ll wear an audio device and one of the pinhole cameras.”
For all the good those would do when their enemy put a bullet in his brain. But Bastian wisely kept the opinion to himself. “How soon can we do this?”
Michael was silent for a long moment. “Dietz is keeping tabs on us somehow. I’m willing to bet he has a contact keeping him in the know. Not one of his soldiers, but a local snitch, one he’s paying off. Someone who works in the background near us. This person could be a bouncer, bartender, or one of our cleaning personnel here at the agency. Hell, it could even be Mrs. Beasley.” At Bastian’s arched brow, he grimaced. “Just sayin’.”
“Okay, he has a snitch. So?”
“So we let Blaze, Emma, and some of our agents who are more active in the underground community spread the word that you’re not happy in your love life. You’ve suffered a devastating breakup. You’re going to have fun, nail every piece of ass that will hold still long enough.”
Bastian’s heart ached at the version laced with shades of the truth. But Michael would never be devastated on his behalf, he was positive. The man had barely blinked when Bastian shoved him out of his life. “This will take more than one night. He’ll watch first, make sure I’m really doing what the rumors said.”
Meaning, Bastian would have to make the pickups real. And Michael didn’t even flinch, or show an ounce of remorse. He could have wept.
“Do what you must. We’ll start tomorrow night. Like you said, he won’t move the first night, so we’ll have you go fishing again Friday night, Saturday if necessary. If he still doesn’t try for you, we’ll set up a predictable pattern — one weeknight plus Fridays and Saturdays. Three weeks with no results, and we’ll scrap the op and come up with something else.”
“Fine. But I don’t think that will be necessary.”
“Me, either. Stop by and see Katrina before you leave and get the equipment you’ll need to wear in your clothing.”
Oh, goody. That meeting wouldn’t be awkward at all.
“Will do. I’ll leave my condo at nine tomorrow night to go out. Not many people are hanging at the club before then.”
“Fine.”
Bastian took his cue to leave and stood. As he reached for the doorknob, Michael’s voice drifted behind him.
“Please be careful.”
Briefly, he closed his eyes. “I always am.”
If only that concern meant something deeper. But it didn’t, and never would. That depressing knowledge
