Page 40 of Dirty Daria
Mack and I look at each other. I know he’s tempted, but I also know it’s because he’s thinking about Daria in a bikini and not about the repercussions of having women there with us, unsanctioned, while we surveil a perp.
“She’ll go anyway,” Mack says.
“Why can’t you control her?”
“Why can’t you?”
I roll my eyes.
Fuck.
“We’re going to lose our jobs over this,” I say.
“At least it’ll be after a paid vacation.” Mack shrugs.
I wave my hand and he sprints out the door and down the hall after the girls.
20
Daria
I do not want to be taking this trip with Mack. But at the same time, I don’t want to let David leave the country without keeping an eye on him. And just to further confuse myself, I want to take this trip with Mack more than anything. How’s that for definitive thinking?
When I called my father last night to tell him I needed access to his US based jet, he was not pleased. He still gave it to me, but he wasn’t pleased. Mostly, I think, because he doesn’t like me leaving the country when he doesn’t have control over my trip. But he wants Katya’s killer caught just as much as I do.
I’ve yet to admit anything to him about Mack or that two FBI agents will be traveling on the jet with me, as well as Quinn. Though, I’d be really surprised if he didn’t already know. My father knows everything. All the time. There is literally nothing that surprises him.
What surprises me is that he hasn’t brought up the subject of Mack yet. I don’t look forward to the day when he and I finally talk about it. Because I can feel myself sliding down the slippery Mack slope once again. I’m close to caving and becoming involved with him. It’s too hard to stay away. And once we are together again, Mack’s career will be threatened. His life will be in danger, and my father will find out.
I don’t trust that my father won’t be the one who will try to kill Mack. In fact, I still don’t know how it is that Mack stayed alive when we were seeing each other the first time around. Because even if I didn’t know that Mack was FBI, my father was sure to know. That is if he looked into Mack at all. Which I’m certain he did.
I could have found out if I’d had Alyssa do any kind of digging at all. But I didn’t. I felt a connection with Mack when we first met that was unlike anything I’d ever encountered before, and I didn’t want to ruin that by knowing too much about him. Foolish? Absolutely. But I got swept up in the romance of it all and just let whatever was going to happen, happen.
Which is what I will probably do during this trip as well. It’s just not possible to be on “vacation” with Mack and not have sex. I could barely contain myself at the wedding last night. Now he’ll be in a bathing suit, his skin warmed from the sun, coming out of the water looking like a Greek god.
Once Alyssa found where David and Laurel were staying, I immediately looked it up online and took the virtual tour through the grounds. The resort is made up of one large main building housing the shops, spa, gym, theater, and other entertainment, along with multiple buffets and cafes, as well as a Michelin rated restaurant. Outside of that are the villas: garden villas hidden amongst vegetation, beach villas with small private beaches, or the over the water villas.
I chose an over the water villa for Quinn and me, mostly because I know she will flip over it. But, as I perused the property, I started to see myself there with Mack. And looked for the room I would choose if it were for him and me. I’d go for a beach villa with the private pool, hot tub, and beach. No neighbors to be seen, fully self-contained, we wouldn’t even have to get dressed the entire stay.
I sigh as I close my suitcase after making sure I have everything I need. One nice thing about warm and balmy locales is that you really don’t need to pack much. My father’s jet will be stocked with weapons, burner phones, and expendable laptops, so I don’t need to worry about anything like that. I also have a satellite phone for the girls to reach me in case the burners don’t get reception. And the resort promises high speed Wi-Fi, so I’m never completely out of touch.
Besides, this isn’t a real vacation. This is recon, to make sure David behaves, and to see who he gets in contact with, if anyone. And make sure he doesn’t kidnap anyone while he’s there. I look down as my phone rings.
Quinn.
“Hey,” I answer.
“I don’t have any clothes to bring. What are you packing?”
I list off the contents of my suitcase for her: four bathing suits, four pairs of shorts, an assortment of tank tops and T-shirts, a few pairs of yoga pants, a couple sundresses, strappy sandals, flip-flops, tennis shoes, and a light jacket.
“No jeans?”
“Nope.”
“Nothing fancy?”
“Nope.”
