The Boss Assignment (Rogue Protectors Book 3) by Victoria Paige (summer beach reads .TXT) 📕

eyes or what was a close imitation of that gesture and gave a derisive snort. “You know I’m a spy, right? That’s what spies do? Impersonate other people. And we were legitimately there. That guy from DHS is just pissed because we arrived before him, and sweetheart, he doesn’t report directly to the DNI like I do.”

“DNI?” she frowned.

John got into the vehicle. Charly guessed she didn’t have any choice but to follow this crazy person. Too bad Detectives Woodward and Kelso didn’t leave as well, because Charly would have been tempted to ask them for help getting away from this madman.

“Director of National Intelligence. All intelligence divisions report to him. The FBI, DHS, DoD.”

She looked skeptical. “Doesn’t the CIA have its own director?”

Garrison revved up their vehicle. “Yes. But they still report to the DNI. We’re good.” And for the first time since she’d seen the CIA officer, he looked really tired. Normally his face was broody in quiet curiosity. Always observing.

Charly clenched and unclenched her right hand. She was tired too and wished she had asked Ida for a bottle of Ferion.

“That’s why you didn’t want to bring the BIO-case,” she said.

“Yep, I wanted to make sure no idiot was in charge.”

“Sandra really wanted to see what I’ve already done with the antiviral. After a few more tests we can start orienting medical personnel to its usage.” With more tainted XZite pills out there, time was of the essence.

It was almost nine at night. The CDC provided dinner before the conference room meeting so Charly wasn’t hungry but she was exhausted and ready to crash. Sleep. On any bed. Charly wasn’t expecting to share a room with Antonio and she certainly hoped no one made such an assumption. She knew from Ida that he had an aversion to letting women sleep in his bed. He was the classic commitment-phobic male, and Charly wasn’t one to act needy.

He could have his own room.

She could have hers.

In fact, she wished that had already been settled by the time they arrived at the house. No fuss. She didn’t want whatever was between Antonio and her to get messy. He said it himself, he couldn’t promise anything. So she wasn’t going to expect much. At the same time, she admitted she had a niggle of anxiety that Antonio had changed his mind and wouldn’t be there when she arrived.

The last text from him was six hours ago, right before her phone died.

Oops.

Their SUV cruised down Sunset Blvd, turning on Blue Heights Drive and headed up the famed Hollywood Hills.

It was a steep road, and the large SUV took a couple of hairpin turns that had her wishing Garrison would slow down.

“When can I get my things?” Charly asked.

“Declan should bring them by tomorrow morning—he’s Detective Woodward’s husband.” And she thought she heard Garrison mutter. “We’re all one big happy family.”

After around twenty minutes on the curvy road, the Suburban made another tight turn onto a dirt road that headed downhill. It was a narrow path and it looked like they were going to drive off a cliff before it got onto a paved street again, passing several homes with solid galvanized iron gates. Ones that would protect a fortress.

Ahead of them, a rust-colored gate slowly trundled inward, revealing a boxy two-story home that appeared to be built during the seventies’ disco era. The house appeared sunken, its first level lower than the gate. The SUV parked in a carport rather than a garage.

Stepping out of the vehicle, Charly surveyed the house.

“For fuck’s sake,” Garrison muttered just before a shadow fell upon her.

Antonio.

“Why didn’t you reply to my texts?” he demanded.

His face was dark with the outside lights behind him, but she could sense his displeasure pushing against her.

“My battery died.”

“Typical female response.”

Charly was in no mood for his jerkish behavior. She lifted her chin. “Say that to me one more time.”

Garrison snorted and left them outside and entered the house.

“That was uncalled for.” His tone turned wary.

“You’ve got that right, buddy.” She moved past him, but he grabbed her arm, before turning her into him and putting both hands on her shoulders. This time she could see his face, his eyes were turbulent.

“I was worried and I reacted badly,” he said.

That wasn’t exactly a straight apology, but Charly really needed to sleep. “I’m tired. Can we go in?”

“Have you eaten?” Antonio asked behind her.

“They fed us.”

Bristow was busy cleaning weapons at the dining table. He glanced up briefly. “Glad you guys are back. Andrade was like a caged tiger in a circus. He almost paced a hole through the tile.”

“You guys were gone for ten hours,” Antonio pointed out, but he was looking at Garrison.

“Unless you haven’t gotten it straight in your head, we don’t answer to you for our time,” the CIA officer shot back.

“Charly can’t work long hours. Her hand—”

“Antonio!” she cut in sharply.

His jaw clenched tight and then he bit out, “She can’t get tired.”

“What’s wrong with her hand?” Bristow asked.

“Nothing.” Charly could feel Garrison’s eyes boring into her and she instinctively fisted her right hand to keep the tremors controlled. “I’m ready to turn in.” She went to the fridge and was glad it was stocked with water at least. She grabbed a bottle.

“If you guys want anything to eat, there’s cold pizza in the fridge and fried chicken,” the SEAL said.

“I’ve already eaten,” she replied. “Where’s my laptop?”

“Second floor.” Bristow checked the barrel of his weapon. “Last room on the right.”

“Thanks.” She glanced at Garrison. “What time do we head back to the CDC?”

“You mean you.” The CIA officer was on his phone again. “Looks like I have some place else to be tomorrow. Ten good for you?”

Charly shrugged. “Yup.” She trudged up the stairs and was annoyed to hear Antonio and Garrison get into it with harsh whispers. She was tempted to go back down there and knock their arrogant heads together.

Ugh, she’d have to deal with two of them in the coming days.

When she entered