Page 82 of Wicked Sexy (Wicked Games 2)
When I stiffen, Ryan looks at me. “Get your game face on, brother,” he says under his breath, still smiling like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “I have a feeling all the pawns are about to get moved around the board.”
Ryan’s mention of pawns jars my memory. It was something Tabby said to me right before we left for LA. We were standing in her kitchen, and she’d just told me the job had a ninety-nine percent failure rate no matter how well I was prepared to go up against Søren.
“Whatever you think his endgame is, you’ll be wrong. He’ll always be five moves ahead of you, no matter how well you plan, and there’s only one way you’ll ever catch him.”
“Which is?”
“By using me as bait.”
The hair on the back of my neck prickles. “Ryan. You ever play chess?”
“Yep.”
“You any good at it?”
“Yeah, actually. My dad taught me. We played all the time when I was a kid. Why?”
Looking between O’Doul, Miranda, Rodriguez, Chan, and the rest of the FBI agents working at their various stations around the room, I ask, “What’s the most valuable piece on the board?”
“Technically the king. The goal is to get him in checkmate. That wins the game. He’s the most important piece, but he’s not the most powerful.”
“Who’s the most powerful?”
The door on the opposite side of the room opens. Tabby stands there, outlined in light. Despite being pale and somber, despite the dark hollows under her eyes that betray her fatigue, her chin is up. Her back is straight. Her legs are braced shoulder-width apart.
She looks ready for battle.
Ryan says, “The queen.”
Twenty-Three
Connor
“Are you ready, Miss West?”
In answer to O’Doul’s question, Tabby nods. “But I’d like to request that the room be cleared when we do this. It could get a little…personal.”
I wonder what the word is for when you feel jealousy, anger, hurt, betrayal, outrage, and the urge to scream, Fuck! at the top of your lungs, all at once.
“Fine.” says O’Doul. “We’ll need Special Agent Chan on this, though. He’ll be recording the call.”
“Okay.”
O’Doul looks at his men and points at the door. “Everybody out.” He glances at Ryan and me. “Sorry, boys.”
“Connor can stay,” says Tabby quietly. She doesn’t look at me, instead walks over to the whiteboard, turns her back on the room, and folds her arms across her chest.
No one contradicts O’Doul’s order. Even Rodriguez keeps his mouth shut as he rises from his desk and exits the room. They all seem to know how important this is, how much it would mean if they can locate Killgaard, and seem willing to set their egos aside if it means they get a little closer to their goal.
I, on the other hand, have just gotten a giant ego boost in the form of Tabby wanting me to stay. I feel like a cat that’s just been stroked down its back. I’m so happy, I could purr.
Ryan leans a little closer. “Our client doesn’t look too excited about the turn of events.”
That’s an understatement.
In fact, Miranda looks as if she might curl her hands around Tabby’s throat.
“Well, obviously, I’m not going anywhere,” Miranda says, her fake smile replaced with a very real scowl.
