Page 25 of Hannah's Truth

Ross gave her his best poker face. Eva sighed. “You're referring to Mrs. Bartholomew aren't you?”

“Mrs. Bartholomew? Who the hell are you talking about?” Rick turned to Ross. “Do you know anything about Bart getting married?”

Ross shrugged. “He always told me one ex-wife was more than enough.”

“Come on,” Eva said. “You like Hannah.”

“She’s a great agent,” Ross agreed. “And I thought she was great for him mainly because it was a long distance gig. But married? Bart can’t even say the ‘m’ word.”

“Really?” Rick’s eyes went wide and he started to laugh.

“Stumbles over it every time since that bitch Beth left him.” Eva flicked a hand, dismissing the topic. “Guess that Vegas trip must have been one helluva vacation.” She smirked as both her partners' jaws dropped, zeroed in on Rick. “Trust me. He talks to me more than he talks to you.”

“Really?”

“Shut up, Rick.”

But Rick leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees. “Has he ever talked about his coffee recipe?”

“Shut. Up. Rick.”

He laughed instead.

Irritated, she turned her computer monitor back to face her. “It’s a six hour drive,” she reminded Ross. “Minimum.”

“I’ll give you plenty of lead time if we’re needed on site.”

“You’d better.” At least he wasn’t giving her any crap about field experience or running intel from a safe distance.

“Guess I’m off to Greenville,” Rick said, getting to his feet.

“Just upload any pictures straight to the office, I can run facial recognition or gang affiliations from here.”

“Sure thing. I’ll take Nicole with me and we’ll keep you posted.”

Eva expected Ross to head for the door too, but he hesitated, shooting her a dubious look. “Oh, stop worrying. Hannah called in a favor—the marriage deal is just a cover.” She waggled her eyebrows. “For now.”

Ross lifted one suspicious brow. “I figured as much. That’s not what has me worried.”

“I promise I won’t go digging into anything sensitive.”

“Or classified?”

She held up a hand like she was taking an oath as a witness. “Or classified.”

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

A statement he knew would only increase her curiosity. “If you say so.”

“Behave.”

She struck an obnoxiously innocent pose, hands tucked primly under her chin. “When have I ever done otherwise?”

He laughed. “Allie says they’re serving your favorite New York style pastrami at the Midnight Rooster today.”

“Hot damn.” Eva dropped the innocent routine and picked up her phone to call her fiancé. “We’ll be there.”

Chapter 7

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