Page 38 of Code Name: Harbor

“Not a problem,” Cole says. “We’ll coordinate it.”

I want to offer to sit in on it, but they won’t let me. I’m an actual witness and we can’t have me coloring the interview. Not only that, I don’t want to seem overly interested in Finn.

Everyone starts to clear out and Reid bumps my shoulder with his. “Welcome back to the team, McAdams.”

I’m the last one to leave, but before I do, I grab the photo of Mikhail Sokolov that was left on the table. I think about Finn and the fact that he’ll be getting a call from Cole very soon. He probably expects it, but I should give him a heads-up.

I don’t know what telling him would do, but it would give me an excuse to see him tonight.

I haven’t heard from him since he dropped me at my house last night. That kiss had me believing I would absolutely hear from him, but I’m doubting it now.

CHAPTER 9

Finn

I’m on my third walk through the house—some would call it pacing—and I don’t have any clarity. The Lagavulin I poured thirty minutes ago is on the kitchen counter. I’ve been past it four times and not spared it a glance.

This is what I look like when I can’t decide what to do. A genuine pacer by nature, trying to figure out my problem stride by stride.

It’s been a little over twenty-four hours since Mikhail waltzed onto The Quartermaster looking for Josie and two days since I’ve seen her.

It’s only been about thirty seconds since I last thought about her, though.

I can’t figure out what to do in my mind. I’ve analyzed it over and over again. Voronin’s people are now active, and the wide-berth arrangement we’ve had in place is now broken. Mikhail boarded my boat and proclaimed they think I was the vessel that rescued her. They’re never going to accept my word that it wasn’t me and every additional contact with Josie increases her exposure.

It also increases the risk to Marcus and my crew. Hell, it even exposes a man named Walt Brown to harm who’s done nothing wrong except take my money so I can use his dock a handful of times a year.

My mother had a thing she used to say whenever I came to her with an important decision I couldn’t make. Most of those were decisions a teenager has—should I quit the kitchen job, should I tell her about the kid I was running with, should I take the deal an older man offered me when I should have known better.

She would say, “Finn… when you can’t decide what to do, the answer is usually not the smarter choice but the scarier one.”

And Josie is the choice that scares me the most. Because it means I’m committing to taking on Voronin and that’s not wise at all.

The smarter choice is not Josie, and maybe if I can go another twenty-four hours without calling her, the urge to do so will recede.

I look at the glass of scotch and consider taking a sip when the doorbell rings.

My head comes up and without needing to look at my security camera, I know it’s her.

I take very quick stock of the main emotional punch I’m feeling and without a doubt, it’s happiness. Joy to see her but also to have the decision taken out of my hands to let her go.

I cross the foyer, open the door and there she is.

She is in a tailored skirt and a silk blouse plus a wool coat against the cold. Her hair is down and her eyes are tired, but she’s the most welcome thing I’ve ever seen on this porch.

“Come on in,” I say, stepping back. I get a whiff of her perfume, a faint jasmine scent as she moves past me, and it brings back all the memories of our kiss the other night.

Josie stands in the foyer with her hands in her coat pockets. A million things I’d like to say spin through my head…

I’m glad you’re here.

I want to kiss you again.

This isn’t a good idea… you and me… but let’s do it, anyway.

Instead, I say, “I’m guessing you’re here to talk about Voronin.”

She gives me a faint smile. “Yes. But I’m also here because I want to know if you were serious about wanting the second date since you didn’t call.”