Page 19 of Operation: Fire Bomb

“Well, I have a t-shirt for Cameron, a mug for the teacher across the hall from me and look at this!” She holds up a miniature toy train. “My kids will love it!”

“Here,” I say and take the souvenirs from her, freeing up her hands to grab more items. “What else do you need?” It doesn’t escape my notice that she didn’t pick out anything for herself. My business doesn’t put me in the room with a lot of considerate people, and Lake is making quite the impression on me with how easily and quickly she thinks of others.

“One more thing,” she tells me. “No, wait two.”

I bite back a smile as she hurries over to pluck a magnet off a spinning tower loaded with hundreds of other magnets depicting images of Switzerland. And, finally, she swipes up a couple of chocolate bars.

“And who’re those for?” I ask.

“My neighbor who has my suitcase. She collects magnets. And I figure you have to get chocolate, right? Isn’t it supposed to be the best in the world? My parents will love it.”

Her enthusiasm is contagious and I find my normally serious mood shifting into something that’s more playful. “Well, why don’t we find out?” I grab a few more bars then dump everything on the counter. While the cashier begins to ring the gifts up, Lake frowns.

“I only have American money. I need to exchange—”

“I got it,” I tell her and pull out the pile of Swiss francs stashed in my pocket.

“But—”

“You can pay me back later,” I say, although I have no intention of taking any money from her.

“Okay. And I owe you for my ticket, too.”

“We’re on a business trip, so that’s on the company.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, brows pinching together in the most adorable way.

“Quite sure,” I respond and hand some money over to the cashier. As the cashier places our purchases in a bag, I use the opportunity to take in my traveling companion. Despite being a redhead, she doesn’t have any freckles. I’m beginning to realize that Lake Sullivan is one in a million.

The cashier hands me some change and the bag, and then Lake and I head over to the correct train platform. Our timing is perfect and we step right on. I follow Lake to a couple of empty seats and she slides in by the window. Her energy is bubbling over and I can’t help but grin at her excitement. Normally, I’m so deep into operator mode that I don’t take time to enjoy the sights and sounds of a place. But it’s really hard not to get sucked into Lake’s enthusiasm and I find myself feeling lighter than I have in years.

And it’s a damn good feeling.

“I can’t believe this,” she exclaims and clasps her hands. “This is exactly like the Orient Express.”

I chuckle and set the bag of souvenirs down on the floor in front of us. “Do you read a lot of Agatha Christie?” I ask.

“No,” she admits. “I read more, um…”

I arch a brow and her cheeks turn pink. “What?”

“Romance,” she says and then turns her attention out the large window.

“Sailor does, too. She devours it.”

“Really?” Lake turns back around to face me and I’m not sure if she thought I was going to judge her or make fun of her for what she likes to read. But that’s not my style. Especially being a kid who grew up on comic books and graphic novels. “I’ll have to find out who her favorite authors are. Do you like to read?”

“I do, but I rarely have time, unfortunately. Running Slater Security takes up all of my time and then some. But, I’m not complaining. It’s what I’ve grown used to and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Or so I tell myself.

But as I sit here studying Lake and her zest for life, it makes me wonder if I’m not living as much as I should. What would it be like to pump the brakes a little and maybe even take a day off? Make time and spend it with someone I’m seeing? To find the beauty in life again and to do it with someone I care about?

I can’t believe I’m thinking about dating right now. I should be focused on the upcoming meeting with Mila Ward and whatever intel Ryan is tracking down on the Dark Web. But instead, I’m admiring the way the sunlight streams in through the window and makes the golden strands in Lake’s hair glint.

“How fast are we going?” Lake asks, turning her attention back to me. Outside the window, the scenery speeds by as the train accelerates.

“These trains go up to 155 miles per hour,” I tell her.

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