PAINT IT RED (MikhAiah)

10: Deadly Rendezvous

"Truth is what stands the test of experience." —Albert Einstein

***

AIAH

"You're dating a fucking FBI agent?" Colet blares over the phone, and I groan, pulling it away from my ear as I park at the restaurant across the street from where Tyler is.

I'm starving, and we can't get a visual inside this office, so I'll stalk from here, since this is where he has reservations.

Right now, this blonde wig is itching the crap out of me, and this red lipstick is definitely causing me to stick out. Add both in with the dark sunglasses and skin-tight dress that I'm wearing, and I look nothing like Aiah Arceta, just in case.

"I already explained how it happened," I tell Colet, wishing I had just kept the confession out of it.

"And you're in New York, where she also happens to be."

"Tyler is here, which is why I'm here. He took an unscheduled trip up here, so I got worried he was coming to see one of the others, since Lawrence is the next target and he's also here. He has lunch reservations for two, Colet."

She blows out a heavy breath. "New York is a long way from West Virginia. What's he doing there?"

"I don't know. He went into the same office where Lawrence works."

"The media hasn't gotten ahold of the story."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean they haven't heard several of their friends died recently."

She grows quiet, and I stare out at the restaurant. Tyler has reservations for two here at lunch. That much I found out from the cloned phone. But he hasn't been texting Lawrence. I'm not sure who he's texting.

"Colet? You still there?"

"No," she says, sounding muffled. "I'm right beside you."

I look out my window to find a woman with a goatee, dark glasses, and a stick... I'm not sure what it's called, but it looks suspiciously like the stick the seeing impaired would use to feel their way around. Her hair has also been bleached blonde.

I guess we're both incognito.

I climb out of the car, arching an eyebrow at her. "Cowabunga?"

She snorts, but then her lips thin.

"So you decided to come to New York City without telling me?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

She shrugs carelessly. "Same thing you essentially did. I have the same phone you do, remember? I knew you'd be heading out."

She points a finger at me.

"Don't think you're off the hook over this FBI dating thing. That conversation is paused—not over."

I groan, and she smirks as she holds her arm out for me to take.

She looks all classy in her suit. With the way I'm dressed, I look like her high-paid hooker.

"You look good, by the way," she whispers as she guides me down the sidewalk.

"High praise coming from a woman who's supposed to be blind," I say with a sweet smile.

She restrains a smile as we walk inside. "Reservation for Demarco," I tell the hostess. "We requested the terrace, since it's so beautiful outside today."

Just like Tyler requested.

She beams at me, treating me like I don't resemble a call girl with her John. "Of course. Right this way," she says, refraining from calling me Mrs. Demarco in case it's the name of my date.