Garrison's Creed (Titan) Page 14

  “Cash was just leav—”

  Beth protested, her mouth forming a big O, and Cash said, “Nope. I’d love to join you.”

  Nicola growled at him. Yes, she needed to hash out the Smooth ammo, but she really wanted Beth alone to hash out the Cash issue. Her and Cash. Sugar and Cash. Working and Cash. Everything. She needed Beth, by herself, and she didn’t want to share.

  Cash kicked back in a chair. He was all long legs and broad chest. The sun shone down on him, and he positively glowed. Such a gorgeous son of a bitch.

  “Fine.” Nicola huffed and sat down, still mentally willing Cash to get up and go inside the mall. He didn’t move. Her Jedi-mind powers were a big, fat fail. “Let’s talk Smooth ammo.”

  Her handler and best friend leaned forward, eyebrows bumping up a notch. “Let’s talk about you two, since I have you both here.”

  “Very professional, Beth.”

  “Whatever. I’m pulling the best friend card right now.” She feigned innocence. “Besides, technically, you two work together. I have paperwork and questions. Very important questions. Promise.” She crossed her heart. The waiter arrived. Beth ordered for Cash. This was looking less and less like a working lunch and more like they were going to slurp lunch from tiki-umbrella-garnished glasses.

  Batting those blond lashes, Cash played along with Beth. Damn them both.

  “Question one. Go.” His voice sounded husky and low. It made her want that Whiskey whatever-it-was-called. Right. Now.

  “Question one: How’s our girl look after ten years?”

  A hot blush shot up Nicola’s cheeks so fast that she thought steam would shoot out of her ears. “Beth!”

  Cash laughed, leaned forward, and pinched a very serious face. “Better than she did the last time I saw her. And the last time I saw her, she was very cute and very naked.”

  Nicola tried to gasp, but couldn’t. Stomach, meet throat. Throat, meet stomach. No need to breathe right now. Her insides were switching places.

  Their drinks arrived, and if Nic could’ve talked, she’d have asked the waiter to bring her refill already. Or a pitcher.

  Beth looked thrilled, positively couldn’t-smile-bigger thrilled. How was that little gem about Nicola being cute and naked going to spell out in her CIA paperwork? It wasn’t because this was a free-for-all fishing expedition. Nic should’ve promised to give every hot and bothered detail, and then maybe this wouldn’t be happening. Plus, Rocco was missing this, and he’d just about die to see this installment.

  Nicola took a big sip and a big breath. “Can we pul-leaze talk about the Smooth ammo?”

  “Nah,” Cash drawled. “This is way more fun. My turn. I know I’m a far distant second to the job, but when she called you, what came first? Me or the ammo?”

  “You.” Beth told the truth. She’d pay in some fashion.

  “I knew it.” He winked at Nicola, and she made a valiant effort to suck down her entire drink.

  “Look, you two.” Nicola needed to change the subject. “I’ll play Truth or Dare, I’ll get out the freakin’ Ouija Board, but I want to get Smooth out of the way.”

  “All work and no play—” Cash started.

  And Beth finished, “Makes Nicola Garrison a very boring girl.”

  Cash smiled. Big.

  Oh no.

  Cash smiled from her to Beth and back again. She knew what was coming. “Did I mention I was Cash Garrison?”

  Sichuan Mary shot out of Beth’s nose in a laugh and a cough and a choke. Her hands wrapped around her face, and the drink dribbled down her chin. She jumped—one would think to mop up the spillage—but nope. As soon as Beth looked able to ignore the peppery-vodka sting in her nose, she pointed at Nic, mouth hanging open. “Oh. My. God.” Then she pointed at Cash, then her again. “Garrison? Garrison. Garrison?”

  Patrons at the tables around them watched, amused, and having no idea what the deal was. Rocco would’ve got it. Man, he was missing another great episode of My Fucked-up Life.

  Cash handed Beth a pile of napkins. How gentlemanly of him. Nic would’ve rather he choked on his Warrior Whatever because now Beth would have way more questions than when they’d started. She’d put all the blame for that in Cash’s lap. It was easier to get mad and blame him than feel embarrassed about it.

  Right…?

  “Scandalous.” Beth slapped her Sichuan-Mary-covered napkins down, and a tipsy giggle bubbled up. “Tell me more. There’s got to be way more.”

  “I’ll go tit-for-tat again.” Cash loved this. She’d get him later too.

  Beth wiped her hands on a clean napkin and tried, failing, for a serious stare. “Now, this may be the Absolut talking, but I think you two are cute together. Cute. Very—”

  “Got it, Beth.” Damn that vodka. P.F. Chang’s needed rolls or breadsticks. Nic needed to shove a pile of carbs down Beth’s throat to soak up some of the booze and maybe stifle her BFF’s brilliant analysis.

  “Cute,” Beth continued, nodding her head up and down, on repeat. Where was a breadbasket when Nicola needed it?

  “Did you know Nic has a very cute snore?” Cash asked.

  Beth perched on the edge of her seat, clearly ready to get the juicy details. “Ten years ago or ten hours ago?”

  Cash half-cocked a grin that flashed a dimple. “How much should we tell our good friend, Beth, Nicola?”

  This was too much fun for both of them, and she wasn’t touching that conversation topic to save her ever-loving breath. “So about the ammo—”

  Beth ignored her. “Are all you guys at Titan super-flippin’ hot? Cash. Roman. Jared.” She ticked names off on her fingers. “We’ve got nothing right now. No one interesting. Well, David’s interesting, but that’s another story.”

  Man alive, the Sichuan Mary was courage in a glass. Nicola should have stolen Cash’s keys when he wasn’t looking and come alone.

  Cash raised an eyebrow, laughing. “No comment.”

  Beth and Nicola reached the bottom of their drinks with a slurp. As if the waiter had been watching, he arrived with fresh drinks the second they came up for air.

  “You’d better not hold out on me.” Beth made a big show of switching her straw from one glass to the next, even though the new one already had a straw. “You’re running around with all those Hottie McHottersons, and I want some of that.”

  Cash shrugged. “That could be arranged, I’m sure.”

  “Yes.” Beth beamed, a third-drink-on-an-empty-stomach smile plastered on her face. “Thank you. Cash, I think I love you. You’re the man.”

  Beth was throwing L-bombs and boosting his ego. Nic needed to catch the buzz train fast, or she was going to have to run to the bathroom and cry or scream or send a return-your-BFF-card-here text message.

  The waiter was suddenly there again. Maybe her second whiskey had packed more of a wallop than she’d realized. “Would you like to order?” He stood there as if expecting… something. “Food?” he prompted.

  Beth studied the drink menu for a second. “Noodles.” She leaned over to Cash, her new best friend, and yell-whispered, “Do you want noodles?”

  He gave her a wink. “I want whatever Nic wants.”

  Beth sighed loudly enough to turn the table behind her. Nic waved her glass to them, then looked at the waiter. “Can we have a sampler or something with lots of carbs?”

  He nodded, clearly trying to figure out if they were good for their bill.

  Cash spoke up. “Make that two samplers. And lots of noodles.”

  The big guy needed his food. Nicola finished off the rest of her drink and admired the way his shirt clung to his pecs.

  Cash leaned over. “See something you want?” A flush flashed from her cheeks to her chest. “On the menu?”

  Nicola pushed her shoulders back and smoothed a napkin over her lap until it started shredding. “I’d like to talk about David the Butler now. That is, if you two can handle it.”

  Beth’s buzzy nod said so much about what she could and cou
ldn’t handle now or remember later.

  “We already have our plan for the butler,” Cash said to Beth. The grand plan must have been discussed when she wasn’t listening to Jared yammer on because she had no idea. Cash continued, “And we’re going to talk to Sugar—”

  “That’s her name? Sugar?”

  Thank you, Beth. It was about time you pulled your BFF weight.

  Cash laughed. “Her, huh?”

  “Of course she told me about her.” Beth was going to get a headache from all of her nodding. Well, and from all the vodka too.

  “Nic’s reading into something.”

  “I am not.”

  He shrugged one shoulder.

  “So what’s your get-the-butler plan?” Beth asked. Good thing Cash was there to explain it to both of them. And here he thought she was being über professional. In reality, she’d been lost in the Cash-clouds.

  He cracked his knuckles and got serious with a swig of his Warrior Smash. “Simple. Nic and the butler have to partner, per the CIA’s request to work it out, so as they do that. Nic slips in a few tracers and bugs. They do some bogus assignment together. Titan harvests the intel to bring the fucker down. Nic plays it all nice and sweet.” Cash stared at her a hard second. “That is, if she can manage to keep her left hook in check. She’s got a quick temper.”

  Oh, for God’s sake. She didn’t have a temper. Maybe a short fuse, but that was a byproduct of her ex-boyfriend run-in. Now that Cash clued her in to the plan, it sounded reasonable and simple enough. This plan, for that matter, sounded too safe. It sounded like Cash and Jared were keeping her at arm’s length while they did the fun work, or was her Whiskey Whatchamacallit making her paranoid?

  She took a sip and added, “But if I see an opportunity to take him down and have cause, I’ll do it.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of fact.

  “Not according to the plan,” Cash countered with a hint of a growl.

  “Plans are meant to be adapted.”

  “Not this one.” He sounded smug and sure and steadfast.

  I’m going to wring his neck.

  “This is about me being in the field again, isn’t it?”

  “What?” He shrugged, looking guiltier than sin. “No.”

  Yes. “I cannot believe you and Jared. You two can’t handle it.”

  “Actually, not Jared. He thinks you’re fine to do whatever you please. Roman and I have reservations. We don’t want you running around when we can take care of it.”

  “Not your call, Cash.”

  “It’s better that—”

  “Stop. Just stop.” She tried for a deep breath, but fury and frustration built in her lungs. “You said we were okay. That we’d work together, that you understand I’m good. Shit, I’m better than good.”

  Beth nodded. This nod was a serious one, trying to reinforce the truth. “She is.”

  Cash swallowed the rest of his drink. “We are working together. Just let me do the heavy lifting.”

  “I might if you talk to me about it first! That’s how partnerships work. You can’t—”

  He pushed out of his chair and stood to his impressive height, then leaned over her chair, imprisoning her in his protective arms. “Why not? It’s safer—”

  She jutted her chin up to meet his sapphire stare. “To quote the great Cash Garrison, bullshit. You can take a bullet between the eyes as easily as me, so don’t tell me it’s safer for you.”

  She pushed a hand against the expansive plane of his chest and stood, matching him. Cash versus Nicola. Losing ground on this would be detrimental to her professionally.

  They didn’t say anything. No one around them did either. Every person on the patio stopped and stared. The waitstaff watched. Someone, somewhere clanged a knife on a plate.

  “Check please,” Beth whispered.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Being stuck bitch in a Cash-and-Beth-sandwich on the front seat of the truck proved annoying. Beth was passed out and propped up against the door. Cash had an arm draped over the wheel, humming along with the radio like he wasn’t a macho jerk.

  Everything he’d said in their spar hadn’t meant a thing. She thought she had a grip on her and Cash, but she was wronger than wrong. She felt plain stupid for assuming that he’d be different than any other man, not seeing what she wanted and instead playing big dog. His delivery, acting all cocky and beating his chest like Tarzan, hadn’t helped. So he wanted to protect her. Too freakin’ bad. It wasn’t his call. Shit, she wanted to protect him. Bet that’d make him shrivel up.

  “I’m not sorry.” There he went, running his mouth.

  “Couldn’t care less.”

  “Well, I’m not thrilled you’re mad at me.”

  “Still don’t care.”

  Beth smacked her lips as she slept. Her occasional snore broke the hum of the road as Nic directed Cash to Beth’s condo.

  “I’m good enough to be out in the field, Cash. I’m strong and I’m smart and—”

  “I get that,” he said on a breath. “But I’d rather just take care of it. It’s a man thing. A protective thing.”

  “You don’t know me at all. I don’t want to be protected. I like protecting. I’m a sleuthing badass. I like what I do, and you stepping in isn’t, isn’t—”

  “Isn’t what, Nic? Not my call? ‘Cause I’m making it my call.”

  “It’s not fair.” She pointed for him to make a left turn onto a tree-lined road. “It’s not fucking fair.”

  “Babe, life’s not fair. You of all people should know that.”

  “But I can choose who I work with, and that means I don’t have to work with you.”

  “You do through this assignment.”

  “Well, screw that. You and my big brother don’t call the shots.”

  “Yes—”

  “I’ll go out alone. You and Roman can sit around like old biddies and bitch about that. I don’t care.” She took a breath and pointed. “Pull in right there. That turnabout.”

  He slowed into the horseshoe driveway of the high rise building, then turned to her, his eyes almost pleading. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Obviously you don’t know me as well as I thought you did. I was out there by myself before you two came along. The only reason Titan’s involved is because the CIA wants this one off the books. I’ll go off the books for both Titan and the CIA. I want this fucker. If I get the chance to take him out, bring him down, or just entrap him, he’s mine.”

  He shut his eyes. Worry creased their corners. “Nic…”

  “Blah, blah. I’m sick of it.”

  Beth stirred. Cash parked his truck and got out, leaving Nic alone with Beth, who had gone back to snoring. Very slowly, Cash opened the passenger door. Beth was still very much passed out.

  “Grab her stuff. Get her keys out.”

  Nic stared at him. “What are you doing?”

  The whiskey in her blood slowed, as she understood his plan. Click. He undid the seatbelt and extracted her snoring best friend. Beth nuzzled against his chest. Cash was a protector. He did it without thinking. Without being asked. He did it because he probably expected no less of himself. Damn him, all well-rounded and caring.

  Nicola pinched her eyes tightly. Cash wanted their heavy lifting because of who he was. Nic in the field threw that balance off. Too bad. He needed to find a new center of gravity.

  With Beth draped over him, Cash started toward the front doors. The doorman opened without a sideways glance. Nicola could do nothing more than watch Cash.

  “You coming?” he asked over his shoulder.

  The keys jangled in her hand, kick-starting her butt into gear. She led the way to Beth’s apartment.

  ***

  Nicola had taken Beth’s shoes off and left her a glass of water and two Tylenol on the bed stand before they left.

  “Thanks. For helping Beth.”

  He chuckled. “She’s a lightweight.”

  “Trust me, she’s not. I’d chalk that up to an
empty stomach and too much excitement.”

  Cash shrugged, and they walked down the corridor. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Look, I didn’t mean to get so upset. I’ve worked hard to prove myself and… I know it’s in your nature. I just… I don’t know.”

  They stopped in front of the elevator, and he pushed the down button and popped an Altoid. “We’re finding our equilibrium. New partners and preconceived notions.” His voice was quiet, but he still didn’t sound willing to budge on David the Butler.

  “Maybe.” She watched him in the oversized wall mirror instead of pacing the length of the waiting area. Since he’d called her fidgeting habit, it was on her mind. Don’t squirm. Don’t fiddle. Don’t, for the love of God, give Cash a reason to get in her head.

  “Let’s work the ammo angle. We’ll go see Sugar, get that over with, and then we’ll be working together. Just like you want.”

  “Why?” Sugar? He wanted more drama?

  “Why not?”

  “Because we’re fighting, and Sugar isn’t going to help.”

  “Nah, this is more like a disagreement. A work-related disagreement. I don’t think it has anything to do with you and me.”

  “It has everything to do with us.”

  “Us at work.”

  “Us in general.” She shook her head.

  “Nope.” He paused and looked her over from blonde bun to butt-kicking boots. “We’re disagreeing, and it’s bothering you because you care. Don’t know if you realize that, but it’s true. And I’m apparently the problem, and it’s because, I guess, I care.”

  The elevator dinged open. Hurray! Get me out of here. He walked in and held the door, waiting for her to join him. Hmm. Confined space. Maybe she should’ve hoofed it down the stairs. Nic moved to the corner opposite. His truck, the shower, and now the elevator. Too many closed in spaces.

  He leaned back against the wall, surveying. “Whatcha doing way over there?”

  She fidgeted with her purse, repositioning it from one shoulder to the other. “The more space, the better.”

  “Are two little things like Sugar and the butler gonna keep you a rifle’s distance away from me?”

  “I don’t really know you, Cash. I don’t know what you want. What I know is that you want to mess with my job.”