I glance down at myself, taking in the pressed black slacks, French blue shirt with ivory buttons, and low-heeled black loafers. My hand subconsciously comes up to pat at the tight bun I had wound my long hair in that morning, ensuring no stray hairs were falling out.
“You’re my stripper?” he asks slowly, a slight censure in his tone.
It gets my hackles up, being judged for looking so prudish, which is insane, I know. I hold my hand out to him. “Nikki O at your service. That “O” stands for Orgasm, or Oliver if you go by my newly acquired license. Sorry I couldn’t greet you in my stripper gear and all.”
There it is… a lip twitch… and his eyes crinkle slightly at the corner.
“Wyatt,” Mike says from behind me. “Come on in… we got work to do.”
Wyatt’s… I mean, Raze’s eyes flick over my shoulder, and he gives a head nod to Mike. Gone is the threat of a smile and he ignores my hand, stepping past me into my apartment.
“Come on in,” I mutter under my breath and close the door, sliding the chain back in place.
By the time I turn around, Raze is sitting at the table with Mike… in the seat that I had just vacated. Sighing, I walk over to the couch, grab the FBI file on Simon Keyes, and head into the kitchen so we can get down to work.
“Want a soda?” I ask Raze.
“Sure. Pepsi if you have it,” he says, his eyes watching me intently as I walk toward the fridge.
“Sorry… it’s Diet Coke or nothing,” I respond, but I’m brought up short just before I reach for the handle.
“Jesus… you walk like you have a stick up your ass. Please don’t tell me that’s your sexy strut?” Raze growls.
“Wyatt,” Mike says in a low warning before I can open my mouth to defend myself.
“No, Mike,” Raze says as he holds his hand up to cut him off. “Look at her. She reeks of FBI… probably prior military by the way her spine is ramrod straight. She’s going to blow this whole operation out of the water. Simon will spot her for what she is a mile away.”
“Ease up,” Mike says with a sigh. “She’s got the skills… trust me.”
Raze snorts in skepticism and for a brief, crazy moment, I have the wild urge to start a sexy dance right then and there to prove to him that I can handle this. But the moment fizzles because standing here in my plain black suit with my hair done up tight and not an ounce of makeup on, and with Raze’s hard eyes on me, I don’t feel an ounce of sexy within me.
Instead, I decide Raze doesn’t deserve one of my lukewarm Diet Coke’s and take the chair opposite of him at the kitchen table.
Clasping my hands together, I force my shoulders to relax a little and give him a focused stare. “Look… you’re just going to have to trust the FBI knows what it’s doing and that I’m qualified to handle this job. I’m ready for this, and hear me when I say that they will never in a million years guess what I truly do for a living. Now, let’s quit wasting time with your doubts and how about you tell me what I need to do.”
Mike gives a little cough behind his hand, and Raze narrows his eyes at me. He holds my gaze, and while I can still appreciate his male perfection as he sits across the table from me, I have decided that I don’t like this man very much.
Raze pops his jaw and then slouches back in his chair. Drumming his fingers on the table, he looks at me intently. “You prepared to go all the way with this?”
“You mean—am I prepared to let myself get kidnapped and possibly sold into slavery under your nose if things don’t go according to your brilliant plan?” I ask calmly. “Because yes… I am.”
His gaze is shrewd. “You’re prepared to get up on stage and flash your tits to a bunch of strangers? Have their hands on you… shoving grease-covered dollar bills in your G-string, hoping to cop a feel of your pussy?”
I flinch hard over his crude words.
Sitting up quickly, he leans over the table in a menacing gesture and growls at me. “You can’t fucking flinch over words like ‘tits’ and ‘pussy’. That’s the business you’re in now, Special Agent.”
“Okay… that’s enough,” Mike says in exasperation. “Agent Somerville—”
“That’s Nikki Orgasm,” I snap at Mike as I cross my arms over my chest, and I see Raze’s lip twitch again.
Mike shoots me a glare and continues, “Agent Somerville will be fine. Once she’s in role, she’ll be able to carry herself accordingly. Let’s quit dicking around. I need you to instruct her, Raze, on what to expect and how she has to act, and you’re just going to have to fucking trust she can do it. Okay?”