Colby Control

Go for it.

She slipped off her stilettos and left them at the door. Her steps silent on the thick carpet, she moved quickly toward the bedroom. As she drew nearer, the water sounds grew louder.

Vandiver started to sing.

Not well and certainly not in tune, but providentially loudly.

Three steps into the room and she hesitated. The door to the bathroom was open.

A couple of her favorite curse words flitted through her mind.

Along with a pair of black trousers, a white shirt and a red power tie, the cell phone lay on the bed, as if he’d tossed it there … as if he had nothing at all to worry about.

Adrenaline moved through her veins. Nothing but Nora Friedman. A smile tilted her lips.

Seven feet stood between her and the phone. She glanced at the bathroom door. The glass-enclosed shower had fogged with the billowing steam.

She could do it.

Piece of cake.

Feet wide apart, she braced for the move.

Her purse vibrated. Her fingers clenched around it as if that would somehow stop the insistent tremor.

Her muscles tightened.

Tallant was checking up on her.

Another glance toward the bathroom.

Just do it.

Three long, soundless strides put her at the foot of the bed. She snatched up the phone and backed up, taking the same number of steps.

The off-key melody wafting from the bathroom assured her that Vandiver remained occupied, allowing her to focus on removing the back from the phone. She dug through her clutch for the tiny device required to do the job. With the purse under her arm once more, she installed the electronic splitter in the phone.

Oxygen didn’t fill her lungs again until the back was on the phone and she prepared to toss it onto the bed.

It rang.

Her eyes widened and her heart practically stopped as the phone’s raging tune blasted a second time.

Heated oaths resonated from the bathroom.

Move!

Nora tossed the cell phone onto the bed just as it erupted into musical notes again. Without a glance in the direction of the shower, she dashed back to the entry door and snatched up her waiting shoes.

“Yeah.”

Vandiver’s voice. He was out of the shower and on the phone.

If he heard the click of the door latch disengaging …

His voice grew muffled.

He’d walked back into the bathroom.

Her knees wobbled just a little with relief.

She held her breath, wrapped her fingers around the door handle and pushed downward.

The click of the lock disengaging echoed like an explosion in the air.

Nora slipped into the corridor, slowly let the door close and the lock reengage. With a liberating sigh, she backed up a step.

Clear. She’d accomplished her mission.

Strong fingers wrapped around her forearm.

Her gaze collided with furious gold eyes.

Tallant 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?”