“I’m just saying there’s no need to—”
“To what? Are you her manager now? Her agent? You bang her one time and think you can come in here and tell me how to do my job?”
Favreau glanced at Alexandra, who had averted her eyes in embarrassment. “No, but—”
“Then get the hell out of here. You’ve already done enough.”
Favreau felt his blood pressure rise. He put his coffee mug on the counter. “You’d better watch your mouth, pal.”
“I better watch my mouth?” T-shirt glared at him for a second. “You’ve got a helluva nerve. You show up here, get my talent stinking drunk, you keep her up all hours of the night making enough noise to wake up the rest of us, and now she looks like crap. If the way I’m talking upsets you, I’m sorry, pal, but I’ve got a living to make, and at the moment it unfortunately depends on her.”
Favreau struggled to keep from launching himself at the prick, but knew that was probably suicidal, considering his current condition and the size of the guy standing next to T-shirt.
“Just so you understand,” he said. “I know people who would happily cut you up into tiny little pieces on my say so.”
“Ooooh, you’re scaring the hell out of me.” T-shirt turned to his partner. “Is he scaring you, too, Sticks?”
Hawaiian shirt grunted. “Oh God, oh God, oh God…”
That did it. Unable to help himself, Favreau shot forward—
— but it was Alexandra who intervened. She jumped between them and put a hand on Favreau’s chest, holding him back with more power than he’d expected.
“He’s right, Frederic. Stop.”
“He’s right?” Favreau wanted to tear these guys apart.
“People are paying me good money to represent TPL, and I blew it last night by partying too hard. Believe it or not, the camera sees a lot more than we think it does.” She paused. “Look, I’m sorry you got in the middle of this. But we have work to do, so why don’t you go get your shoes, and I’ll walk you to the door.”
Favreau glared at the two men, struggling to regain his calm, then returned his gaze to Alexandra. “You’re sure?”
“You look like you could use some more sleep.”
He couldn’t argue with that. “All right, then.”
He sucked in a deep breath and let it flow back out as he gave them all one last look before heading into the bedroom for his shoes.
A couple minutes later, Alexandra met him in the foyer. She was wearing the yellow bikini top now, and damn if soon-to-be-fish-bait hadn’t gotten it right. She looked amazing in the thing.
He wished more than ever he could remember what was underneath it.
“I’m sorry about this,” she said. “But I want you to know I don’t regret anything. In fact, I’m hoping we can have dinner tonight.”
“Tell me when and where.”
“We should be done shooting around six. Meet me in the restaurant at seven?”
“I’m expecting a call, and may have some business to take care of at some point, but I’ll be there.”
She opened the door, took hold of his hand, and squeezed it. “I’d kiss you, but I just finished my makeup and I don’t want Atilla the Hun to get upset with me again.”
Favreau chuckled. “At least you got a sense of humor about it. If I were you, I’d brain the guy the minute he’s not looking.” He squeezed back, wanting more than anything to crawl all over her. “See you tonight, baby.”
He pecked her on the cheek and went back to his suite, intending to spend the rest of the morning in bed.
Maybe sleep would help him remember.
When Alex came back into the living room, Cooper said, “If I didn’t know what a scumbag Favreau is, I’d almost feel sorry for him. He’s on the hook bad.”
Deuce nodded. “Just goes to show that if you try hard enough, you can convince anyone of anything.”
But Alex wasn’t so sure Favreau was convinced. She had a hard time reading the man. For all she knew, he was conning them, and this spy vs. spy nonsense was starting to grate on her nerves. They weren’t even a full day into this op and she just wanted to smash and grab and be done with it already.
“He told me he’s expecting a phone call.”
Deuce grunted. “Then we’d better stay on him like a fly on rice. We can’t let him get to Valac before you’ve had a chance to switch out the codes.”
“Assuming I ever get access to them.”
“We also have to consider our next move,” Cooper said. “If Favreau goes to Latham’s place to close the deal, Valac won’t be easy to get to.”
Deuce raised his hand like a kid in high school. “I think I might have a way in.”
“How?”
“There’s an access road that leads to the back of the house. That’s where the guards almost caught me.”
“The operative word being ‘guards,’” Alex said. “I don’t think they’re going anywhere.”
“Just hear me out. Before I got close, I was almost run down by a delivery van. I figure a place that size, and him being the king of St. Cajetan and all, there must be a lot of vans coming and going. All we have to do is be in one of them. If we time this right, we’ll be on Valac before he even realizes it.”
“Might work,” Cooper said. “We can check Latham’s charge accounts to see who he regularly takes deliveries from. If we can go in as a known entity, there’s less chance they’ll be paying close attention.”
Alex said, “It would be easier to grab him when he’s out in the open.”
“Sure it would,” Cooper said. “But who knows if we’ll ever get that opportunity? Besides, it would present us with a whole other set of variables to deal with. Unfortunately, we have no choice but to keep this a stealth attack. We can use the photographs Deuce took to get the lay of the land, check out some satellite shots — and blueprints, if we’re lucky.”
“That’s not a lot to work with,” Deuce said.
“No, it’s not. For the most part we’ll be flying blind.”
“It’s like the streets of Baghdad all over again,” Alex said.
“Doesn’t hurt to look at it that way,” Cooper told her.
“Yeah, but how many times did we go into the Red Zone wondering if we’d ever come out? And some of us didn’t.”
“So what are you saying? You want to back out?”
She shook her head. “I’m just making an observation. I’ve already compromised too much of my integrity to back out now.”
“What about you, Deuce?”
He shrugged. “Seems like we’re trying to put this op together with duct tape and spit, but considering the complete lack of lead time, what real choice do we have? Besides, as you both know, I need the money. And if it all goes south, I guess they can always give it to my goldfish.”
“Since when do you have a goldfish?” Alex asked.
“I picked one up after we got back from Istanbul. I was feeling a little pissed about the way things went down, and some brainiac on the Web said that fish are soothing for the soul. I named my guy The Dude.”
“And who’s feeding The Dude while you’re in St. Cajetan?”
Deuce’s face fell. “Shit. I didn’t think about that.”
A door flew open and Warlock stepped out of his room. “Cooper, you might want to take a peek at this.”
“What is it?” Cooper asked.
He pointed to his glasses. “I finally got a hit on one of the photos Deuce took and I think you’ll find it illuminating.”
“All right, show us.”
Alex and Deuce followed Cooper into the bedroom, where Warlock’s computer cart was shoved up against the closet doors. The screens showed the interior of Favreau’s suite, the center one featuring Favreau himself, sitting on the edge of his bed. He looked as if he might fall asleep before he had a chance to lie down. Whatever was in that pill had done a number on him.