Page 46 of Man of Lies

"Hello, darling." She offered a brilliant smile.

I'd worked with Marie for years, though we hadn't been in the same room for a while. We'd spent the past fourteen months communicating via secure chat on a burner phone. I was surprised by how much older she looked. Her dark, bobbed hair was neat as ever, but the streaks of gray had grown thicker, and she'd traded out her trademark pumps for flats. She was dressed in a stiff yellow pantsuit, the bright color she thought made her look girlish, though she could have passed for my grandmother in the wrong light.

I liked her, but I wasn't happy to see her tonight. None of my team showed up uninvited unless things were moving faster than expected behind the scenes. A reminder that I didn't control the clock, and time was running out.

"I'm moving as fast as I can," I said, cutting to the chase. Marie wasn't the type to beat around the bush, and neither was I.

Her smile didn't budge as she slid onto the stool, adjusting the pleats in her jacket with a quick flick. "I'll have a Negroni," she said, sliding the menu aside and glancing at a bottle of Campari on the shelf behind me. "An extra dash of that. But keep the vermouth light, and give me a twist of grapefruit, not orange. Think you can handle that, barman?"

"Think that scares me?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "I've had to handle your Chinese takeout order, remember?"

I grabbed the gin, poured it with a steady hand, added the Campari, and watched the colors swirl together. A light dash of vermouth followed, just like she'd asked.

She wasn't fooling me; I knew exactly why she was making such a show of her order. It wasn't about the drink. She was keeping my hands busy, distracting me while breaking the bad news. My eyes flicked to her face briefly—still smooth, but something in the corners of her eyes, something tight in her posture, told me she wasn't just here for a drink. And that didn't bode well for either of us.

Marie watched in silence for a while. She leaned forward and folded her hands neatly on the bar, keenly interested. "You've gotten good at this."

"Not a lot to do around here but learn," I said evasively, cutting a twist of grapefruit, just enough to release the oils, and dropping it into the glass. "What have you got for me?"

"I looked into who was sniffing around your bar," she said. "But the better question is—whoisn't?The task force that's been poking around is headed up by the Attorney General himself. We made contact and told them to back off before they blow your cover. The sheriff's got eyes on you most days, too. I'm sure you noticed."

"The squad car parked at the highway turnout?" I raised my eyebrows and slid her drink across the bar. "I noticed. Supposedly watching out for drunk drivers. Brought 'em coffee a time or two, just to let them know they're not subtle."

"Anyone in particular?"

"Usually it's Sheriff Vanderhoff himself." I shrugged, wiping down the counter without really looking at it. "Sometimes he puts one of his deputies on it."

"Teddy Cobb." It wasn't a question, the way she said it. "He's got his hand in a lot of pots. When it suits him, he reports to Vanderhoff, but when it doesn't, we've caught him down at Saxa Fracta, feeding intel to Dominic Beaufort's organization."

"You know I made contact with him," I said grimly.

"I saw the update." Marie took a dainty sip of her Negroni, humming in approval. "We're already moving on the information you passed along. We've got people tracking the movements of local LEOs, but whoever it is, they've been keeping their hands clean. We can't pin it down until we catch him in the act."

I carefully dried the last glasses, lining them upside down on a clean towel beside the ice bin. "What about the location Beaufort gave me for the drop-off? The one in Mississippi?"

Marie's lips tightened. "We've got it locked down. The next shipment's set for tomorrow night. We're coordinating a sting op with local agencies. It's a full-court press, Silas. This is our chance to shut down that side of the trade—but once they go, we'll lose everyone on the hook on this side of the state line. You need to make a move on Gator's crew."

"Jesus, you don't give a guy much warning." I huffed a laughing breath through my nostrils, breathing deep to keep tension from ratcheting up my spine. "You want me to just show up at his doorstep and ask to tag along?"

Marie tilted her head slightly, a faint smile on her lips, but her eyes remained sharp. "Oh, don't make it harder than it needs to be, Silas. We both know Gator loves to hang around after hours, when all the prying eyes are gone." She glanced at her watch, then raised a brow at me. "Should be here any time now."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. She was right, damn it. The pressure of being pulled in too many directions was starting to wear me down. But I wasn't about to show it. Instead, I reached for a bottle of bourbon and poured a double. I had a feeling I'd need it.

Marie's eyes followed the movement, but she didn't comment. She didn't need to. The silence that followed was thick with the understanding that neither of us could afford to waste time.

I took a slow pull from my glass, letting the warmth of the whiskey spread through me before setting the glass down and bracing my hands on the bar to get a good look at her. "Youcould've sent this over secure channels like you always do. So why the personal delivery, Marie?"

She didn't immediately respond, taking a careful sip of her Negroni, and then set it down with a subtle grace. Her eyes, usually shrewd and a little harsh, softened until I could almost see the version of Marie that existed before the Bureau, before the surveillance and the endless briefings. I'd seen her warmth in flashes over the years but never enough for me to trust. I'd kept my distance, like I always did.

In many ways, she'd been the most stable relationship I'd had. She was the one who could always be counted on, even if we never talked about the things that mattered. I had no idea where she lived, never met her husband—hell, I wasn't even sure what she did when she wasn't at work—but I knew, deep down, that she cared. She cared in quiet ways that never affected our bottom line, but it was enough. She was a constant I could depend on.

She shifted in her seat slightly, her voice dropping into a tone that didn't belong to a handler anymore, but to someone who knew me well. "I wanted to get a look at your face. Make sure you're still locked in. We don't want a repeat of what happened last time."

I swallowed and glanced down, rubbing at a water spot on the counter with the edge of my thumb. "I'm fine," I muttered, though the words felt thin in the space between us.

"You're tired, Silas." Marie's eyes stayed on mine as she leaned forward earnestly. "Undercover work's a strange thing. You can stay in it for years and convince yourself you're still in control. You never even notice you've reached your limit. Then one day,you wake up and realize you've lost track of what you're doing it for.Whoyou're doing it for."

She'd hit me center mass, but I wasn't going to let her see that. I kept my hands busy, arranging the syrups on the counter so each label faced outward. The movements were familiar, mechanical, and distracting.

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