Page 213 of The Black Trilogy

Oh my.

He hung up as I slipped into the seat beside him, and I willed myself not to blush. Recalling Black’s training in social graces, I figured I’d better introduce myself. Should I shake hands, kiss him European-style, or simply throw myself at his feet?

After a few seconds of awkward silence, I gave him a little wave and said, “Hi.”

He grinned wider. “Hi. Emmy, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” I fumbled with my seatbelt and finally got the flipping thing done up. “So, we have a month in Mexico…”

“We do. And four weeks in the sun can’t be as bad as the three weeks I just spent in Moscow. Snow everywhere, and it was colder than a penguin’s foot.” He looked me up and down. “Company’s better too.”

And just like that, the ice was broken.

After a slightly evasive game of twenty questions, I found out Nick had joined the Navy six years ago at the age of seventeen.

“As a way of giving my old man the finger, I suppose,” he said. “We never saw eye to eye. He wanted me to work in the city.”

“Moscow’s a city.”

“Good point.”

He gave me that smile again, eyes crinkling, and I knew right then the trip wouldn’t be as bad as I’d feared. He talked, I talked, and we were almost at the airport when I remembered this was supposed to be work.

“What’s the plan, boss?”

“We’re newlyweds on our honeymoon. Vegas wedding, baby.”

He passed over the picture the CIA had thoughtfully provided as a memento of our joyous occasion. Our heads had been artfully photoshopped onto a couple standing under bawdy neon lights shaped like wedding bells.

“Ugh. That dress is hideous,” I said. “The woman’s practically falling out of the top, and it does nothing for her waist.”

“The guy’s not much better. Someone should have fixed his tie.” Nick looked at his reflection in the window glass. “And my skin’s three shades darker in that photo. I need some sun.”

I nodded my agreement as he took an envelope from his pocket and tipped out a pair of trashy-looking gold rings. Eighteen years old, and the closest I’d got to the beach was the Dirty Name at Little Creek.

“Nice,” I said as Nick slipped a ring onto my finger.

“I should have gone out and bought these myself. Everyone’s gonna think I’m cheap.”

I batted my eyelashes at him. “You, cheap? But honey, you’ve shelled out for the honeymoon suite.”

“At least the expense account’s generous.”

The plane ride passed quickly as I flipped through the file of suspects, memorising names and faces. Once I was happy I’d recognise them, I switched my attention to a map of the area so I’d be familiar with the terrain when we arrived. I wanted to ace this job for Black.

And, I realised, for Nick.

The honeymoon suite turned out to be a secluded villa that fronted onto the hotel’s private beach. Nice. Perhaps I should become a smuggler? They sure had chosen somewhere idyllic to do business.

“Not bad, is it?” Nick said as we walked inside.

“It isn’t quite the Ritz, but it’ll do.”

“The Ritz?” He raised an eyebrow. “Black, I take it?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, Black probably has more money than the CIA, so I’m afraid we’re slumming it.”

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