Colby Control. Debra Webb

dragged her several strides down the corridor before leaning his head close to hers and demanding, “What the hell were you doing in Vandiver’s room? No.” He shook his head. “I don’t even want to know.”

      Busted. “Looking through his briefcase.” Sounded good. But from the ruthlessness of his grip and his continued march toward the stairwell exit, he wasn’t buying it for a second.

      When he’d pushed through the stairwell door, with her in tow, he surveyed the landing as well as the stairs going in both directions. Confident they were alone, he pointed an outraged face at hers. “I don’t know what the hell you were thinking, but we had this talk, Friedman.”

      They had indeed.

      “And I clearly remember thinking it was totally ridiculous at the time.” Not the right thing to say, judging by the way his jaw clamped hard and his lips thinned into a flat line of fury.

      He was totally ticked off.

      The cool tile floor beneath her bare feet served as a harsh reminder that she had taken a huge risk.

      He would likely report her to his superiors. Who would in turn convey the entire incident to her boss, Jim Colby.

      She was dead.

      The great idea didn’t seem so great at the moment. Except she had accomplished her goal … assuming he gave her the chance to explain.

      “I’m lead on this assignment,” he said, his voice low and lethal. “You will follow my orders or you will go back to Chicago.”

      Funny, she’d never noticed how those thick curls of his swept across his forehead. Gave him an almost boyish look. But there was nothing boyish about his grip or his gaze. He was madder than hell.

      “You were tied up with the blonde,” she offered humbly, innocently. “The opportunity presented itself and I jumped at it. Isn’t that what you wanted me to do?” She widened her eyes, tried her best to look sincere. “Did I misunderstand?”

      “Yeah, right.” He released her arm only to grab the purse dangling from her right hand.

      He opened it.

      There would be no explaining that away.

      “You just happened to be carrying all this—” he opened the clutch as wide as possible to display the contents for her perusal “—when that lucky break occurred?”

      Nora leaned to the right and tugged one shoe on, then leaned the opposite way and pulled on the other. “I like to be prepared, Tallant. Don’t they teach you that at the Colby Agency?”

      She doubted breaking and entering was a part of the orientation at the Colby Agency. The whole staff was a little uptight for Nora’s taste.

      He shoved the purse back at her. “Let’s go,” he ordered.

      Her gaze narrowed with suspicion. “Where?”

      “Time for a conference call.”

      The man didn’t waste any time. She’d give him that.

      “Look here, Tallant.” She had no idea how she would do it, but she had to convince him to go with the flow on this one.

      “What?” he growled.

      Her purse vibrated.

      Surely it was too soon for … She opened her purse, stared at the screen on her phone.

      A call to Vandiver’s room phone.

      Nora held up a hand for Tallant to wait as she opened her phone. Two more rings buzzed before Vandiver answered the call.

      “Ten p.m. Your contact will meet you at the Parisian Hotel, under the Eiffel Tower. Bring half the cash and a photo.”

      Male voice. No detectable accent.

      “What does this contact look like?” Vandiver wanted to know. His voice sounded strained … nervous.

      “Don’t worry,” the unidentified man said. “The contact will recognize you.”

      The caller dropped off the open line.

      Vandiver swore, then hung up.

       Cash and a picture.

      Nora closed her phone and lifted her gaze to Tallant’s. “Ten o’clock tonight. He’s bringing cash and a photo to a contact.”

      Understanding dawned in her partner’s eyes.

      It was going down.

      And she had gotten the heads-up.

      She savored his stunned expression. “That, Mr. Play-by-the-Rules, is how it’s done.”

       Chapter Four

       6:50 p.m.

      Friedman was out of control. Ted paced his room.

      His so-called partner sat on the sofa, acting as if he was the one who’d done something stupid.

      For the last half hour he’d contemplated calling Victoria.

      But … Friedman had garnered a major lead.

      Less than twenty-four hours on-site and she had a serious lead.

      He’d scarcely made any headway with the alleged mistress.

      But then he hadn’t broken two laws, one being federal, in the process.

      “You’re overreacting.”

      When he whipped around, he fully intended to glare at her with all the frustration and impatience twisting inside him. Didn’t happen. Instead his traitorous gaze zeroed straight in on those long, toned legs, one crossed over the other, where the hem of her sleek black dress rested provocatively at the tops of her thighs.

      “I am not—” with effort he shifted his focus to her face, which was every bit as distracting “—overreacting.” Ted took a breath, ordered his respiration to slow to a more reasonable rate.

      He was ticked off, that was all. As if to defy his assessment, his errant gaze wandered back to those shapely legs. Gritting his teeth, he forced his attention upward. He blinked when his eyes committed mutiny once more and stalled on her breasts, encased tightly beneath that slinky black fabric. “We have a certain standard and protocol at the Colby Agency.” He managed to look her dead in the eye at that point. “It doesn’t include breaking the law unless it’s a matter of life and death.”

      She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin in defiance. “Isn’t it? Vandiver is planning to off his wife, right?”

      Another deep breath. Stay calm. He needed patience here. As much to get his head on straight as to tolerate her attitude. “But the danger is not imminent,” he countered, “and the wife is under our protection. Those terms set the tone and pacing of our movements.”

      The Colby Agency had definitely broken laws in the past; just a few months ago breaking some major ones had been unavoidable. But those instances were the exception, not the rule. “As long as the goal can be accomplished the right way, that’s the way we do it,” he added.

      He started pacing again, mostly to prevent staring at any part of her. Around the office she wore slacks and blouses. Not once had she worn anything that drew such attention to her … shape. Was it really necessary for her to be decked out like this now? Clearing the thoughts from his head, he said in conclusion, “I don’t understand why that concept is so difficult for you to comprehend.”

      Standard field operating procedures, client relations, all of this had been gone over time and time again since the merger between the Colby Agency and the Equalizers began. Friedman seemed to be the only one who refused to embrace the ultimate objective.

      She stood, planted her hands on her hips, accentuating