Her mind tried to process Bruce’s comment, and his reaction to her new role as Bo’s romantic interest. Did he think she’d brought this on? The thought made her feel off-balance. Bruce had always been her ally. Was he turning against her now?
At some point, Quinn went out for a run. Cassidy half-heartedly considered joining him but decided to spare him her turtle-like pace. Instead, she took a shower, standing under the water so long that it ran cold.
Afterward, she peeked into the fridge, but its sparse contents did nothing to stimulate her appetite. Quinn returned from his run, and after his shower they ordered takeout from the Pho place and ate while watching TV, the slurp of noodles echoing through the quiet space.
And then it was time.
Bruce sent a text, saying he’d called them a rideshare. A sense of unease prickled her skin. Am I no longer his job anymore?
She had the idea to dress in a ratty t-shirt and sweatpants to make the statement that this was in no way a date, but knew that would never fly with Special Agent Harris. Instead, she dressed casually in black shorts and a camo print t-shirt, added a pair of earrings and her four-leaf clover necklace.
Once at the FBI’s task force HQ building, Bruce ushered them into what appeared to have once been a classroom, the desks gone and the blackboard dusty.
“Where are the other agents?” she asked.
“Setting up the surveillance.”
Cassidy realized that the two agents had likely been preparing for tonight all afternoon. To her left, a table held up a collection of small wires and equipment.
“I’ll do Quinn first,” Bruce said.
Quinn tugged up his shirt, then Bruce mapped out the placement of a small black box and a thin wire to his skin, weaving it under the fabric to his chest, then placing the box at his lower back. Once Quinn lowered his shirt, Bruce double-checked the placement, making micro adjustments. To Cassidy, it looked completely invisible.
He nodded at Cassidy. “If you’re not comfortable, I can get a female agent to do this,” he said, watching her carefully.
“No, it’s okay,” she said as a flutter of nerves erupted in her stomach.
Bruce nodded, then picked up the wire.
She rolled her t-shirt up to the base of her bra—black, to blend in with the pattern of her shirt—and tried not to jump when she felt Bruce’s fingertips on her skin. He threaded the wire from her back beneath her armpit, then reached just inside the collar of her shirt to grasp the end.
“Sorry,” he said, sounding flustered.
“It’s okay,” she said, her heart thudding. He stood close enough that she could detect the scent of his aftershave, though from the fine scruff on his jaw he likely hadn’t shaved since that morning. He attached the wire to the strap of her bra, his fingers moving quickly.
Then he stepped back, inspecting his work, his face locked in concentration while Cassidy stood, feeling exposed. Seemingly satisfied, he moved behind her and affixed the transmitter to a location just off of her right flank.
“In case he puts his hand back here,” Bruce said, his warm hand pressing on her lower back. Another flock of butterflies swooped into her belly. “Try to keep him on your left.”
Cassidy clenched her fists. “Got it,” she said, forcing a breath.
Bruce must have heard it because he came around to look her in the eye. “Hey, it’s all right. I won’t let anything happen to you.” His gaze darted to Quinn, who was standing near the wall, his arms crossed. “Either of you.”
Cassidy reeled in her fear. “Okay,” she said, though Bruce’s words felt thin.
“You got this,” he said, his eyes brightening with the first dose of warmth since their surf session together.
Bruce briefed them on what he called the rules of engagement: let Bo take the lead on the offer. Quinn should show interest but act guarded. If any illegal activity is proposed, he should be skeptical, ask questions, then leave it open. “Say you need to think about it,” Bruce explained. “If he works for it, it’ll feel more genuine.”
He turned to Cassidy. “He wants you there, so just try to read him. He’s kind of a macho guy, so might act somewhat possessive.”
Cassidy frowned. “What do you mean?”
Bruce’s expression tightened. “Making physical contact, like touching your arm, or shoulder. Ordering for you.”
Cassidy’s hackles jumped to life. “I can order for myself.”
“You can play it that way if you want. Actually, scratch that. Go with the flow. He might get off on you resisting his control tactics.”
She watched a look of extreme discomfort pass over his face. He cursed softly, then exhaled hard, as if to clear something upsetting from his mind. “Make conversation if it stalls. You can ask him about his work but if he’s evasive, don’t press.” His eyes darkened. “Cassidy, I need to say this,” he said, grasping her shoulders. “You are under no obligation to return physical advances, okay?”
Cassidy’s lungs tightened, squeezing a lump of hard air against her diaphragm. “Okay,” she managed.
A look of relief flooded Bruce’s face. He turned to Quinn. “If this goes the way we think it will, he’ll make the next move. Maybe it’ll be another meeting. Maybe he’ll want to offer to bring you a sample. Whatever it is, be cagey. Tell him you’ll call him if you’re interested.”
Quinn nodded.
“Unless we think you’re in danger, we’ll stay in hiding,” Bruce continued. “What we’ll need is to catch him in the act, which likely won’t happen tonight. We’ll wait for him to actually commit a crime to step in.”
“Tonight isn’t the end?” Cassidy asked as her stomach tightened.
“I’m afraid not.”
“I can play the long game,” Quinn said, sending Cassidy a fierce look. She tried to draw strength from it.
Bruce gave each of them a measured glance. “All right then,
