“Or there could be a handful of people still livin’ there who know everything about everything that happens in their town,” Mac quickly countered.
“Not to get off track,” Ali said, her bare feet up in her husband’s lap as BKI’s ugly, mangy, obese mascot of a tomcat attempted to balance himself on her knees while rubbing his furry face over her bulging belly. The feline was purring so loudly it sounded like a small plane about to take off. “But are you guys just going to forget about the man in Timberlands? The break-in and attack on Delilah seem awfully coincidental so close on the heels of her uncle’s disappearance.” She absently scratched the cat’s notched ears, causing him to ratchet up his purring to a rhythmic roar. “Or are those just my paranoid pregnancy hormones talking?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.
“No, those aren’t just your paranoid pregnancy hormones talkin’,” Mac assured her. “And I’d just as soon bite a stink bug as quit lookin’ for Mr. Timberlands, but findin’ Delilah’s uncle has to be the top priority right now.”
“The top priority,” Boss interjected, “but not the only priority.”
“You have something in mind?” Mac asked, eyes narrowed in interest.
“I’m going to report the break-in to Chief Washington. Maybe his boys in the CPD can find Mr. Timberlands for us. If that’s all right with you, Delilah.” Boss turned to lift a scarred eyebrow at her.
“Hey,” she shrugged, “I’m taking all the help I can get. Obviously.” She gestured to the men and women gathered around the table.
“Good.” Boss jerked his chin. “That’ll let us focus all our efforts on the hunt for your uncle without completely allowing the guy in work boots to get off scot-free.”
And for the second time, gratitude surged so strongly inside Delilah that she felt overwhelmed. “I don’t know how—” She had to stop and clear her throat. “I don’t know how to thank you all for doing this. It’s just so—”
“Darlin’,” Mac’s deep drawl, not to mention that knee-loosening endearment, had the words screeching to a stop on the tip of her tongue as if they’d come equipped with a set of airbrakes. “I told you, that’s what friends are for.”
Friends…yeah… Except when it came to him, she wanted—she’d always wanted—something more. Ack! And we’re back to that, Delilah?
Okay, it was official. She needed a lobotomy, if only to silence that annoying voice.
“So who’s goin’ on this little fishin’ expedition?” Ghost asked, absently rubbing his hand over his wife’s pregnant belly.
“Well,” Boss said, “since Ali has been… What did you call it the other day, Mac?”
“Storked,” Mac replied helpfully. “Down in Texas, we say she’s been storked.”
Oh, and why did she have to go and find stuff like that so freakin’ adorable? What was it about the slow-talking, overgrown, Southern boy sitting next to her that she found so fascinating?
Uh, everything, she admitted woefully. It was absolutely everything about him. Damn it all to hell!
“Yeah,” Boss chuckled, slapping a huge, baseball-mitt-of-a-hand on the table. “You Lone-Star staters do have a way with words. Anyway, since Ali has been storked,” he snorted, “it’s a foregone conclusion Ghost will stay behind and—” Boss stopped in mid-sentence, scowling at Ali. “What the hell is the matter with that cat?”
The tom was now rubbing his entire length over Ali’s belly.
“He’s a frickin’ traitor, that’s what’s the matter with him.” Becky crunched down on her sucker, chewing angrily. “I’m the one who feeds him. I’m the one who bathes him. I’m the one who buys him catnip toys and cleans out his litter box. But do you see him over here rubbing all over me? No. No, you do not.”
“It’s not me he’s rubbing on,” Ali insisted, shooting Becky a placating look. “It’s the baby.”
“People,” Mac interrupted, “let’s get back to the point, shall we? Who besides me is goin’ down to Cairo?”
And either Delilah was exhausted or crazy or both, but the way he said that, like it was a foregone conclusion he’d be going with her, gave her a little thrill. Before that idiotic voice could pipe up with something scathing, she preempted it. Put a cork it, you aggravating little prick! I’ve had it with you!
“Ooh, ooh!” Ozzie raised his hand like an overly exuberant kindergartener. “Me, me! A road trip to southern Illinois sounds like fun.” He winced, peeking at Delilah. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it was fun that your uncle—”
She waved him off. “No worries. I know what you meant.” Because she was a born-and-bred biker, and she knew the thrill of the open road better than anyone. Cruising down the highway on the back of a half-ton of hand-tooled leather and high-polished steel was the closest a person could come to flying without ever leaving the ground.
“Yeah,” Ozzie shook his head woefully, “but that doesn’t—”
He was stopped when Zoelner’s phone suddenly came to life, buzzing angrily and vibrating across the table. The former CIA agent flipped over the device and peered at the screen. A look of confusion and surprise came over his face.
“I’m in for Cairo, too,” he said. Then, “Excuse me for a second.” Standing, he jogged into one of the darkened offices. A light blazed inside the room before the door slammed shut with a bang that echoed around the large space, causing the tomcat to pause in his adoration of Ali’s belly.
“Becky and I will stay here to monitor the progress of the guys we’ve still got out in the field,” Boss said. It was then that Delilah did a quick head count and realized seven of the Black Knights were absent from the conference table. Okay, and way to be completely self-absorbed, Delilah. For heaven’s sake.
“So that leaves Steady,” Mac said, tipping his dimpled chin toward the dark-eyed man, “to join those of us headed south. The more boots on the ground we have down there, the more area we can cover.”
“Agreed,” Boss concurred. “It’s all settled then. Pack up your saddlebags, boys. You’re going on a road trip.”
“Wahoo!” Ozzie shot a fist in the air, then kept his hand raised, looking around for someone to slap him a high-five. When no one took him up on his offer, he realized what he’d done and winced at Delilah again. “Jesus. Sorry. Is it too late to take back that wahoo?”
“It’s okay, Ozzie,” she assured him, eager herself to be back out on the road now that they had a plan. “I know you didn’t—”
She was cut-off mid-sentence when Zoelner’s office door flew open. The former spy—or current spy? Did the Black Knights qualify as that? In all honesty, she wasn’t sure—stood on the threshold, a strange look wallpapering his face.
“What’s up?” Boss asked. “Who was on the phone?”
“Uh.” Zoelner reached up to scratch his ear. “That was Chelsea Duvall.”
“Should I know who that is?”
“She’s an old…uh…acquaintance in The Company. She said she’s been promoted to the position of our official liaison to the CIA.”
“Our official what?” Boss demanded, his tone that of a man who occasionally munched on a baby for breakfast.
“She also said…” Zoelner stopped, scrunching up his face. “How did she put it? She said that in an effort to assist us in our exemplary work for the president and his Joint Chiefs, they’ve been monitoring the online activities on one of our computers and—”