“Really?” I asked in disbelief.
“Really.”
“I clearly told you that I’m not Frankie Gardiner, and I’m basically spying on your entire base for your boss, and all you can do is rationalize.” I squinted.
“What name would you prefer that I call you?” He cocked his head to the side.
“Mara.” I nodded to myself.
“Mara,” Dr. Lee said severely. The way he said my true name made me shiver. “You are fine. Making jokes. Feeling all of the normal things. You want to find the culprit behind the attacks. That’s a human reaction.”
“Do all humans rationalize like this?” I gestured to the doctor and glanced at the door, ready to escape.
I didn’t know how many other ways I could tell the truth. Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut. I had no idea why I had bared my soul like that. I eyed Dr. Lee with renewed suspicion and sniffed the air again. The birthday cake smell was even stronger. The vanilla scent alone was enough to burn the inside of my nostrils.
Dr. Lee had used magic on me; I had walked straight into his trap. Whatever he'd done had made me open my trap and rant away my inner thoughts and feelings—at a time when I couldn’t afford to do so.
“Thanks for the help, Doc.” I saluted over my shoulder as I walked to the door. “If you ever want to hear about my sexual fantasies again, I have a premium rate number I can recommend.”
The erotic novel I had stolen from his bookcase was concealed in the waistband of my trousers.
I waited outside of Davenport’s office, swinging my legs in the uncomfortable plastic chair as I sat next to the star spangled banner and a dying spider plant.
I watched the commander in his office through the small glass window by the door. He was talking on the phone. His face was as stern as ever as he leaned back in his chair. His eyes closed and his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. Strangely, I felt a squeeze of jealousy; it wasn’t just me that caused his exasperation. I had to work harder.
“Come in,” Davenport called through the door as he put the phone down.
“You wanted to see me?”
He rubbed his temples and leaned back in his chair. “Sit down.”
I did as he asked, looking around his office. There was a signed baseball on one of the bookshelves, and the screensaver on his computer was a picture of Davenport; his arm was wrapped around a good looking woman.
“Girlfriend?” I asked, gesturing to his screen.
“Mother.” He clipped as he opened the top drawer of his desk and reached inside. A second later, Davenport slapped a pair of leather gloves onto the barren surface. He also grabbed a stick of gum and folded it between his lips. The way he chewed looked more like teeth grinding.
I quirked a brow in question.
“Giving up smoking.”
“Uh-huh.” I nodded, sniffing the air. Cinnamon. Big Red.
Davenport pressed a finger against the leather gloves and slid them across his massive teak desk. “You need to start wearing these gloves.”
I picked them up and slapped them against my open palm. “Because Frankie wore gloves?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know why she wore gloves?” I asked.
“No.” Davenport crossed his arms over his broad chest. “But she did. Hugo Sinclair came into my office. He's worried about you—and by you, I mean Frankie.”
“Did they have something going on?” I perked up. “Because I can get close to Hugo to keep undercover. Some heavy petting. Maybe some kissing.”
Davenport growled. “No.”
He was annoyed. I almost squirmed with glee. “You could join us, War. It would be fun. I've never been with an incubus before.”
His gaze sharpened. “He’s a Cambion. Half-human.”
“Potato, Po-tar-to.” I waved my hand dismissively.
“Hugo and Francesca were not an item. Hugo Sinclair does his best to exercise self-control.” Davenport took a deep breath. “I do not recommend pursuing Mr Sinclair. Humans don't tend to emerge unscathed from activities with Incubi.”
I snorted. “I’m not exactly human, Big Guy.”
“It would also be unwise for a Fae.”
I folded my hands in front of me and did not argue with his statement. The picture of innocence.
“I’ll talk to Mr. Sinclair and assure him that I, Frankie, am okay,” I said confidently.
“At this point, I think you would be better served staying in your room until we know more about whatever killed Team C.”
I pushed myself off of the uncomfortable chair and swaggered around Davenport's desk, perching my bum at the end of it. I reached forward to grab his tie. Davenport slapped my hand away.
“War, you're so tense.” I cooed.
His eyes narrowed. “You're not taking this seriously.”
“I am.” I patted his shoulder. “I swear.”
“What did you do?” He scowled.
I put my hand to my chest. “Me?”
“My sister gets the same look when she has done something wrong.”
I tsked. “You sound like Dirk.”
Warren shook his head and rolled his eyes.
“I may have told Dr. Lee that I'm not really Frankie Gardiner.” The words rushed out of my mouth on a hurried exhale.
Warren Davenport leaped from his seat. “What?!” He bellowed.
I pushed away from his desk and made a move to escape. The commander boxed me in with his body.
“Are you trying to jeopardize this mission?” His face was close to mine. His breath fanned across my lips. Mint and cinnamon.
I could see the flecks of gold in his chocolate brown eyes. The individual hairs on his scruffy chin. That’s how close he was.
I studied him. By all rights, I should have feared him. The commander of the Hunters. If anyone were going to kill me, it would be him.
“Do you always act like this?” He gestured down my body with a wave of his hand. We had both moved closer. My hand rested on his chest, and I quickly yanked it back.
I blinked up with wide eyes. “It’s my nature,” I admitted. “I can't go against my nature.”
Warren Davenport pushed forward, and for a second I thought that he was going to kiss me. I licked my bottom lip and waited. My skin tingled, and I couldn’t take my eyes from his.
Davenport slapped the gloves against my chest, forcing me to take them. My brow furrowed, confused, as I realized that he had only moved towards me so he could reach the item on the center of his desk.
“Wear the gloves.” He warned. “I’ll talk to Dr. Lee.”
I straightened my shoulders and added an extra wiggle in my step as I walked away. I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my neck as I left his office.
I flipped open the leather wallet in my hands and rifled through each of the laminated cards. Boring. Boring. Boring.
Warren Davenport had a credit card, a driving license, and not much else.
I didn’t know what I was expecting to find. Maybe a sober chip from AA. Or a treasure map to secret pirate treasure.
“I'm bored!” I slapped the wallet on the keyboard in front of me and span on the office chair—my arms were outstretched as if I was beseeching the Gods.
I heard muffled laughter. I hadn’t realized that someone had come into the surveillance suite. Remi had his fist between his white teeth as he tried to hold in his hilarity. Hugo stood by his side, his cheeks pink.
“Don’t you knock?” I stood up, grabbing the wallet and stuffing it into the pocket of my hoodie.
“This is my office, love,” Remi said in his British accent. His voice was thick and deep, melted dark chocolate.