As the questions piled up, he had one answer that he knew with certainty: he needed his team.
After a few more minutes, and a few more beers, the Bishop Security team filtered out of the restaurant and piled into the rented SUV.
“Twitch, you’re a pro.” Steady bumped her fist with his.
She beamed at the compliment. “I was so nervous; vodka kept sloshing out of my martini glass.”
“From where we were sitting, you looked like a regular spook,” Steady continued.
“I don’t know how those guys do undercover work. I’d constantly worry I was saying the wrong thing,” she said.
“That part's easy.” Herc buckled his seatbelt. “Any time someone asks you a question you don’t know how to answer, you just…” He held up a finger and scrunched his nose as he looked at the ceiling. “Pretend you have to sneeze. Then you change the subject. Watch. Steady, ask me a question I don’t want to answer.”
“Okay, on the beach last week, that woman who walked up and slapped you, what was that about?”
Herc repeated the action, holding up his index finger and scrunching his face. After several seconds he addressed the car. “Ren, did you clock the guy who was watching Cam?”
Behind them, Ren cleaned his glasses with the tail of his shirt. “Yeah, he left after Cam. Got into a blue Renault and followed… Hey! That actually worked.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Steady laughed. “Maybe this covert ops shit is easier than we think.”
From the front passenger seat, Tox scolded, “Yes, it's a walk in the park. Cam's just one fake sneeze away from bringing down an entire global trafficking organization. Twitch, everything set for tomorrow?”
“Almost. Just confirming the timing to commandeer the Zodiac.” She tapped out a text to Evan and immediately received a thumbs-up emoji.
“Is the locator working?” Steady asked.
“Got a beautiful little red dot on my screen moving toward the March villa,” Twitch confirmed.
A maid was waiting when Cam entered the villa. She took the bags containing the meals and instructed, “Dinner will be served on the terrace off of your bedroom.” He acknowledged her comment and headed that way. As he entered the bedroom, a soft, salty breeze wafted by, and the sheer curtains billowed. Through the open french doors, he spied Gemini March on the terrace. She was dressed in a blood-red peignoir and matching silk robe. The evening chill appeared to have no effect as she casually sipped champagne from her flute. Cam noticed the first micro-expression to cross her face when she spotted him was anger which almost instantly morphed into a seductive gleam.
He crossed to the open doors and stood on the threshold.
“Men don’t keep me waiting,” she said, her smile masking her irritation.
Cam took the seat across the small wrought iron table and examined the label on the beer bottle at the top of the place setting. “They have to prepare the food.”
“And the woman who kept you company while you waited?” She set her glass down and ran her finger along the rim.
Ah, now Cam understood her anger. He stood and circled the table. When his hips were in front of her eager face, he bent down and caught her earlobe between his teeth. “What woman?”
She released a husky laugh. “Very smooth, Miguel.”
The same maid who had met Cam at the door silently approached and set down their plated fish. Once she had retreated, and Cam was back in his chair, Gemini continued.
“Between women in bars and archaeologists in caves, I’m beginning to feel neglected.” She pouted prettily and poked at her food.
Cam chewed with methodical bites as he stared at her. His outward appearance gave no indication of his fury at the mention of Evan. Where had Gemini watched them? How much had she seen? Her affected jealousy implied that she was probably only aware of their encounters outside the caves: the stingray rescue and the dinner party. Had she known the way Cam had touched Evan, he had a feeling her temper would flare with a bit more intensity.
Rather than defend innocuous actions, Cam smirked. “It's hard to imagine you feeling insecure, hermosa.”
“I didn’t say insecure. I said neglected,” she pouted prettily.
Cam set his fork down, wiped his mouth, and met her gaze. “Come here.”
Gemini March was not one to take orders, but at his imperious command, she stood and came around the table. Cam grabbed her by the waist and guided her onto his lap. He then snagged her champagne and fed her a sip. “Are you feeling neglected now, mi belleza?”
The endearment felt thick on his tongue, but Miguel Ramirez played his part.