Page 23 of Code Name: Harbor

“Just thinking about the case. I’m sure BOB will give us something to help us make another run at Voronin.”

“We’ll get him,” Reid says confidently.

“Which is my cue to get back to work,” I say, offering them both a smile. “Catch you two later.”

I choose to take the huge, reclaimed timber staircase back down to the main floor, finishing the last cookie on the way and washing it down with a sip of coffee. At my desk, I unlock my display and enter BOB’s main screen. I open the file he flagged at four this morning.

It’s a new vessel pattern spanning times and tide cycles over two months of historical data. Two of the ships pinned are Voronin’s. Leaning back in my chair, I think about my date tonight.

I have a man who said Don’t ask me questions you might not want the answers to and a list of questions I’m going to ask, anyway.

Because I’ve decided that I need the answers.

I lean forward, tap on my keyboard and export the information over into a database I built for this case. I give a command to start cross-referencing the new information to the existing data.

A few more keystrokes, and I’ve got a summary report no longer than two pages that I print. I tuck it into my purse and wonder if I should bring it out during the main course or wait for dessert before I start grilling my new source.

CHAPTER 6

Josie

I’ve changed clothes four times and am still not sure I’m presenting the right vibe for a date with a man I’m admittedly intrigued by and attracted to, but at the same time, want to use for information. I still can’t even wrap my head around the fact that he might be a criminal that I’ll at some point have to turn over to the police, but that’s a problem for another day.

This evening’s problem ends up being solved by settling on my fifth outfit of a cream cashmere sweater cut loose at the shoulders, tighter at the waist with dark jeans and knee-high brown boots with a low heel. I curl my hair in beachy waves and keep my makeup light with some tinted moisturizer, pale blush and mascara. Nothing but gloss on the lips.

I look at myself in the bathroom mirror. I’ve always looked younger than my thirty-one years and my dad always blames it on the freckles across my nose. “It lends to a youthful appearance,” he’s said on more than one occasion.

Maybe.

But tonight I don’t want to give any impression I’m youthful or lacking maturity. I want Finn to take me seriously as a woman—no, an agent—pursuing a very dangerous and ruthless criminal. How I manage that and still be present within the date is part of the game.

I’ve done a great deal of professional preparation in my life for assignments, briefings, even one memorable Senate testimony when I was with the NSA.

And none of those moments involved the question I’ve been chewing on for the last forty-five minutes while I got ready for my evening, which is whether the cream cashmere is too much or just enough for a man like Finn Marlowe.

I don’t have an answer to the question, but I’ve decided to keep this outfit, just as I’m decided on trying to focus on using this man as a source of information. It’s an internal pep talk I’ve been giving myself all day, trying to focus on professional rationalization. This man is a confidential source, I’m going out with him for intelligence gathering, and we’re operating on a tit-for-tat deal. But the more I consider my appearance and whether I should have put on lipstick, I know that this can’t be all professional and need to stop pretending otherwise.

I’m going on a date with a man whose criminal record I have read. I’m wearing a sexy sweater but did nothing to draw attention to my mouth. I’m not telling anyone where I’m going.

I take a breath and the doorbell rings. I glance at my watch and see he’s five minutes early. That’s okay though, because I’m ready.

Finn is standing on my porch in a pair of jeans and a fitted dark sweater under a black wool peacoat. He’s freshly shaved, his wild mane of hair carefully swept back into stylish waves. I’m as mesmerized by his green eyes as I was the moment I first saw him, as I was at his house last night. Against his black hair, they’re incandescent, and the way he’s looking at me now makes my blood sing.

“Hi,” I say lamely.

His mouth curves into a charming smile. “You look beautiful.”

Heat flames my face and I force myself not to lower my eyes. “Thank you,” I murmur, and then pay a true compliment back. “And you… look very handsome.”

“Thank you, milady,” he teases with a slight bow. “I know I’m a little early. I don’t mind waiting out here.”

“No, not at all,” I say, waving off his concern. “I’m ready.”

I grab my coat off the hook, my purse from the small foyer table and step out onto the porch, setting the electronic lock pad.

When I turn to face Finn, his elbow’s cocked toward me and I don’t hesitate to slip my hand into it. He escorts me down the steps to his black Range Rover that smells of new leather and his faint but woodsy cologne.

When we’re both settled inside, he starts the engine and turns to me. “I’m not taking you to a restaurant. Hope that’s okay.”