Doom with a View (4 page)

“You don’t trust me to pull it off on my own?”

“Not for a minute,” she said flatly.

I groaned again but sat up and swiveled my legs over the side of the bed. “Don’t tell me,” I said moodily. “We’re going for ‘pow!’ ”

Candice laughed. “No, honey, this morning we’re actually going for ‘
kaboom!
’ ”

Candice’s cell rang at seven, which was a good thing because it distracted her long enough for me to take some deep breaths and force myself to calm down. She’d been downright militant for the past hour, ordering me into the shower and yelling at me to hurry up. Then she practically wrestled me into wearing a bra that I swear came with hydraulics (but at least now I appeared to have some cleavage, which I’ll admit was a small miracle in and of itself). Then came the makeup and hair thing. She’s a great stylist but can be a little rough with the roller brush, and as I stared at the face in the mirror wearing what I thought might be a little too much makeup, I wondered whether I was ever going to feel like myself again.

“Fine. We’ll see you in fifteen minutes, but Agent Harrison, we will not be kept waiting longer than ten minutes in the bureau lobby.”

I smiled. Good old Candice—Harrison had clearly underestimated her, at least. With one more sigh at the face in the mirror, I got up from the side of the tub, where I’d been perched while Candice tortured me, and walked into our room. My partner was hurrying around trying to get our things together as quickly as possible. “We’ll take our luggage with us,” she said when she saw me.

We exited the hotel fifteen minutes later—which left us about ten minutes to reach the bureau field office, and we made that with one minute to spare. As we hurried up the steps to the front door, Candice leaned in and said, “Remember, you are a strong, confident woman. You look amazing. You
are
amazing. There’s no reason in the world why this guy should intimidate you and throw you off your game. Just go in there and do what you do best.”

“I can do this,” I said, trying to put a little emphasis on that word “can.”

“You will.”

Candice held open the door and we marched in like we were all that and a bag of chips. And it almost worked. That is, until we got our first look at Assistant Special Agent in Charge Brice Harrison, who was tall, blond, and—dare I say it?—
exquisite
.

Chapter Two

“Aw, crap,” I heard Candice mutter as we caught our first sight of him.

I gulped. We were too close now for me to reply without his noticing. He stood like some sort of Michelangelo-inspired statue, leaning with his back against the front desk. There was no mistaking it was Harrison. Candice and I both knew it was him the moment we set eyes on him. He commanded the room, with his arms folded across his chest, his shirt perfectly creased, his tie impeccably straight, and a face that was hard, masculine, and sexy as hell. His nose was straight but slightly hawkish, his forehead high, broad, and unlined, his chin chiseled, and his brown eyes stared straight ahead—focused and intent as they zeroed in on us.

Candice slowed her pace a fraction and I did the same. I knew she was trying not to appear as if she was in a rush, and were I brave enough to sneak a look over at her, I had a feeling her chin would be slightly tilted and her own eyes would be cool and nonchalant. I’d seen that look on her face a hundred times, and worked to mimic it now, even while my stomach bunched.

Candice stopped right in front of him and spoke in a breezy voice as if she didn’t have a care in the world. “We’re here to see Brice Harrison. Would you please call him and let him know that Candice Fusco and Abigail Cooper are here for our meeting? And please tell him not to be late this time. We’re on a schedule.”

I resisted the urge to laugh . . . but just barely. Especially when I saw Harrison’s cheeks flush and his eyes darken moodily. “I am
Agent
Harrison, Ms. Fusco.”

Candice’s eyebrows lifted and she made a show of looking him up and down as if she were inspecting livestock. “I see,” she said with the smallest hint of disappointment. “Somehow I expected you to be . . .” She paused, as if searching for a word. “Older.”

Harrison cocked an eyebrow. “Trust me,” he said in a voice not quite as low as my boyfriend’s, but still incredibly smooth and masculine. “I’m old enough.”

Candice looked at her watch. “Yes, well, as I said, Abigail and I have a plane to catch, so if you will lead the way, Mr. Harrison.”

Harrison leaned in toward Candice and looked her dead in the eye. “That’s
Agent
Harrison, Ms. Fusco.”

The corner of Candice’s mouth lifted a fraction, but I could tell the way Harrison was leaning into her threw her off a bit. “As you wish,
Agent
Harrison.”

Harrison then swiveled his eyes to me and I gave him a toothy grin—which was my first mistake. He had my number immediately. I could tell it in the way he looked at me—very much like the way a leopard regards the little mongoose before you have to avert your eyes from the TV. “If you two will sign the register, take your visitor badges, and follow me,” he instructed.

We did as we were told without comment, then followed him out of the lobby and to a row of elevators. I avoided looking at anything but the floor. Candice stood close to me with her shoulder pressed against mine. I could tell she was doing her best through body language to support me, but my nerves were starting to fray, and as the bell dinged and we loaded onto the car, I had a moment before the doors closed where I seriously thought about sprinting for the exit.

We rode the elevator up in silence and got out on the sixth floor. Candice and I followed dutifully behind Harrison, our heels clicking on the marble floor. I was quickly becoming aware of how uncomfortable I was. The miracle bra was digging into my rib cage. My skirt was too tight for me to take my normal stride. The collar on my blazer scratched against my neck. And I was fairly certain my strong-enough-for-King-Kong-but-made-for-a-woman deodorant had utterly failed.

I was trying to breathe normally, but my mind kept racing ahead to this little “meeting” and the interrogation tactics that I was certain would follow. My radar doesn’t usually work well when I’m freaked-out and I knew that it was only going to get worse from here.

Harrison led us into a small conference room and pointed to the leather chairs set around a mahogany table. He sat at the head of the table, and Candice took the one at the opposite end. I sat right next to Candice.

Harrison looked without blinking at Candice, his hard eyes intent and calculating. She folded her hands and rested them on the tabletop, meeting his gaze with her typical cool, composed self.

I, on the other hand, couldn’t help myself. I sat back in my chair and tried to make myself as small as possible. That’s when Harrison turned his steely gaze to me. “As you know,” he began smoothly, “the only reason I agreed to this meeting was out of professional courtesy.”

“We’re aware,” Candice said before I could say anything. “And we agreed to come here out of that same professional courtesy.”

Harrison ignored Candice and continued to stare at me. “Let me get straight to the point. I don’t believe in psychics or fortune-tellers or mediums or seers or whatever it is you people are calling yourselves these days. I believe in cold hard facts. And of those, I’m convinced you won’t be able to offer me any. Still, I agreed to take this meeting, so I’m going to see it to the end. And to prove to my superiors that I gave you a fair shot, I’ve set up a series of tests.”

I looked at Candice in alarm. Her gaze never left Harrison, but she did reach out a hand and squeeze my arm. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “Just listen.”

“If you fail these tests, Ms. Cooper, I will ask you to return home and resist the urge to comment further on any bureau business. You see, it is actually against federal policy to reveal any fact of any case to someone who doesn’t have the proper clearance. And if it were suspected that an agent was leaking details about a specific case to his girlfriend, that agent could find himself out of a job very,
very
quickly.”

His meaning was clear. Dutch wasn’t allowed to ask me for my intuitive input anymore or risk losing his job. And that got my dander up. “And if I pass your tests?” I asked.

Harrison smiled, amused, the way parents do when their child has just said something ridiculous. “Well then,” he said, spreading his hands in an “oh well” gesture. “I might ask you to join our investigation.”

“Might?” I pressed.

Harrison gave one small, nearly imperceptible nod. I scowled and he remarked, “Of course, if these terms are not acceptable to you, then you and your associate here are free to leave.”

I looked at Candice, trying to decide if she thought Harrison’s proposal was acceptable. She looked at me with a kind smile and shrugged her shoulders. “Your call, Sundance.”

I crossed my arms and checked in with my crew—but their answer wasn’t much help. The feeling I had was that they reaffirmed my own sense that these “tests” were bullshit, and if I wanted to stay, they would work with me, but it wasn’t going to be easy. If I felt like leaving—they would support that too.

And I was about to say “Thanks but no thanks” and exit stage left when I looked up again and met Harrison’s eyes. There was something so smug in the way he was watching me—like he couldn’t
wait
to prove me a con artist. In that instant I opened my mouth and accepted his offer. “Very well,” I said, staring coolly at him and forcing myself not to blink. “I accept your offer, Agent Harrison.”

One of his eyebrows arched and he glanced again at his watch. “Good,” he said, “but you’ll need to change your flight—the tests that I’ve arranged may take some time for you to get through.”

I scowled at how confident he appeared, but let it go. I had to be at the top of my game here and getting irritated at the way he was treating me wasn’t going to help.

Candice already had her iPhone out and as I leaned over to look, I saw that she was on the airline’s Web page. “I’ll see if I can get us out of here late tonight so you can take your time.”

“Thanks,” I whispered.

Harrison got up and walked to the door, pausing before he exited to tell us that he would be back in exactly five minutes with the first of the tests. When the door closed, I leaned way back in my chair and said, “He’s a charmer.”

Candice smirked while she fiddled with her phone. “I think I may have a crush,” she said dreamily.

“Oh, me too!” I replied with breathy excitement. “Do you think he might ask one of us to the prom?”

Candice giggled. “I think the only way he’ll be able to dance is if the doctors can successfully perform that surgery.”

“What surgery?”

“The one to remove that
gigantic
stick up his butt.”

That sent us both into gales of laughter and we were still giggling as Harrison came back into the room looking decidedly displeased that we were both having such a good time. “Are you ready?” he asked when we worked to compose ourselves.

“I doubt it,” I told him seriously, and Candice turned her head to hide her smile.

Harrison sighed and held open the door. “If you will follow me, please,” he said.

We walked out into the hallway and back toward the elevators. Harrison pressed the button and we loaded onto the car and rode it all the way to the basement. When the doors opened, we looked out into a rather dim hallway lined with doors.

Harrison got out and marched midway down the corridor with us in tow, before stopping abruptly. I had already turned up my radar and immediately my intuition wanted to pull me the rest of the way down the hallway, but I didn’t know why. I didn’t have time to ponder it as Harrison began speaking. “These offices are all empty except for one,” Harrison said to me. “To pass this test, you must correctly guess the door that holds an agent—”

Harrison didn’t have a chance to finish as I was already bolting down the hallway. Behind me I could hear Candice’s heels following closely. I stopped at the second-to-last door and rested my hand on the door handle. “There’s a guy in here,” I said, feeling out the energy behind the door. I looked up at Harrison, who was eyeing me suspiciously. Pushing the envelope further, I said, “He’s white, between five-nine and five-eleven, brown hair, and, I believe, brown eyes. And he’s got a lot of blue around him.”

Harrison had come down the hallway, his expression unreadable. “You’re sure that is the correct door?” was all he said, and the way he said it would make anyone other than me feel like she’d chosen the wrong door.

I narrowed my eyes at him, and without looking at anything but Harrison’s face, I turned the handle and opened the door before I stepped back and with a hand flourish said, “Ta-da!”

“Whoa,” Candice said, peering over my shoulder. “Abs, that was awesome!”

I allowed myself to look, and there, sitting quietly but rather stunned at a desk in the back of a room painted a vivid blue, was an agent with brown hair and brown eyes.

Harrison, however, appeared completely unimpressed. “If you will follow me to the next test, ladies,” he said before turning on his heel and striding back down the corridor toward the elevators.

Candice shook her head ruefully and held her hand up. “High five!” she said.

I slapped her hand and allowed myself a big happy grin, but something in the back of my mind suggested I might not be as lucky next time.

The next “test” wasn’t my forte at all. Harrison clearly had no understanding of how intuition worked, as he sat me down in front of another agent and said, “I have instructed this agent to think about certain specific things. A color, a shape, and a location. You are to name what color, shape, and location he is thinking about and you have thirty seconds, starting now.”

My mouth dropped. “Are you kidding me?” I asked him.

“You have twenty-eight seconds,” he replied.