“News flash, Gabe. We’re all civilians now.”
Civilian.
His mouth froze on a comeback as the realization struck with the same force as a sucker punch to the solar plexus. Fuck, that hurt. Way more than it should have, and he had a moment of pure panic as his diaphragm refused to expand and let air into his lungs.
He was a civilian now. Damn.
“So it’s settled.” Audrey turned to face Quinn. “I’ll go with him and act as a translator.”
Settled? Far from it. He couldn’t take her anywhere with him unless it was to bed. Definitely not on an op, even one where he expected no resistance. She’d be a distraction of epic proportions, something that could get both of them killed in the wrong situation. Even now, he couldn’t stay on task and found his gaze wandering to her pert little rear end, so close in front of him he wouldn’t have to reach far to get a handful.
But how could he admit that in front of his men? Between Jean-Luc disobeying orders and Ian’s bad attitude, the natives were already restless, and if he admitted to a weakness—a woman, for shit’s sake—there would be anarchy.
He forced his mind back on task before the pulse in his cock became a full-on boner. Audrey wasn’t trained, true, but she spoke the language and knew the mores of Hispanic culture better than any of his men. She was better equipped to tell whether the limo driver was evading, hiding something, or downright lying to them.
He turned to her. “Could you shoot a firearm and not hit me if the situation came down to that?”
“I was born and raised in the South, honey, but I’m no southern belle. I shoot what I aim at,” she said in a tone so coated with sugar he was surprised her teeth didn’t rot. Then she flashed a smile as bright as that sinful yellow tank top she wore. “But it’s still up in the air whether I’ll aim at you or not.”
Marcus let go an appreciative whistle and Jesse muttered, “Dayam.”
Gabe rubbed his jaw. Last thing he needed was for this Southern spitfire to go all Annie Oakley on his ass, but he pulled his SIG Sauer P226 from the holster at the small of his back and handed it over. When he saw the way she tested its weight and checked the chamber in smooth, efficient movements, some of his trepidation vanished. The woman really did know how to handle a firearm. Thank God.
“All right, you’re with me. Marcus,” he called across the room, “do you have contacts within the FBI that can keep their mouths shut?”
“Nah, boss,” Marcus said, and something that looked a lot like guilt darkened his features. Then he moved his shoulders as if shrugging off a weight. “You know, with the way I left… nobody talks to me now.”
Figures. Gabe didn’t know the nitty-gritty of Marcus Deangelo’s retirement from the FBI, except that he’d left with a less than sterling reputation. “Then find someone who will and get us a sitrep without causing a stir.”
“Sitrep?” Audrey asked.
“Situation report,” Gabe said through his teeth.
“Sure thing, boss,” Marcus said with his usual smile back in place and a cheeky two-finger salute.
Patience is a virtue. Patience is a virtue. Patience. Is. A. Goddamn. Virtue.
Gabe repeated it to himself like a mantra. Didn’t work. It may be a virtue, but he’d never been all that virtuous and still wanted to throttle Marcus.
He put a hand on Audrey’s back and guided her toward the door. “The rest of you, gear up and move out, but stay in touch with each other. We’ll be out of radio contact, but I have my phone. We’ll be back in a couple hours, tops.”
With time dwindling steadily away, he couldn’t waste any more than that.
Jesse trailed them outside. “Gabe, can I talk to you for a sec?”
Now what? He stopped, waved Audrey on ahead. “Make it fast.”
“It’s about Quinn.” Jesse took off his hat and swiped a hand through his long, dark brown hair before replacing the Stetson and adjusting the brim. “He hasn’t had a physical yet. Every time I approach him about it, he makes up an excuse. He hasn’t given me access to his medical records, either.” His dark eyes went to the front door as it opened and the man in question stepped out into the breezeway. “Granted, I don’t know him all that well, but it seems like odd behavior, so I thought I should mention it.”
Odd? And the grand prize for understatement of the year goes to Jesse Warrick. No, that was beyond odd. That was so completely unlike Quinn that at first, Gabe’s mind couldn’t assimilate what Jesse was telling him with the man he knew. He turned toward his best friend, who was leaning against the front door with his arms crossed over his chest.