A bead of sweat trickled between his shoulder blades as he watched the entrance to the hotel through his designer sunglasses, silently ruing his choice in wardrobe for the day. Although Jacob assumed it would be warm when he agreed to take this assignment, he had underestimated just how hot June in Rome could be. It had been too long since he'd been here. The Italian sun beat down relentlessly, and even the shade from the awning above him wasn't enough to provide any relief.
He slurped a sip of espresso, doing his best to play the part of a businessman annoyed by something on his phone. He hated espresso, but it was the easiest cover to adopt on such short notice. Ranger's family emergency left the team short-handed and, although this wasn't his usual beat, it was hard to turn down when the alternative meant spending a week pretending to do handiwork around his barely-inhabited apartment. His mandatory leave had once again reached levels that necessitated an email from his boss. Commander Taft sent a terse but clear message: Either use it or be forced to take it.
Remembering the less-than-warm welcome waiting for him when he touched down in Montrovia caused real annoyance to tense his shoulders. He wanted to pretend that never taking a break was unintentional, that he had been indispensable on his recent missions, but it wasn't quite true. Sure, he'd been an important part of the teams he was on, but there were others who could take his place. Jumping on this opening wasn't going to earn him any brownie points with his commander.
Jacob placed his phone down hard on the table and checked his watch. Normally, he was cool and collected on missions, especially one as simple as this: Sit here and watch. Stay on alert just in case. Hide in plain sight. It was the most basic part of their training, but he was failing miserably. Rationally, he knew the fidgeting was partly due to the buzz of adrenaline that refused to subside while he waited, compounded by the caffeine buzz from espresso. But that wasn't an excuse for acting like a trainee.
A voice that was far too pleased with itself filled his earpiece, and he wondered again if Marcus could read his thoughts right along with the camera feeds. "I know we agreed on angry businessman, Phantom, but you're going to break your phone if you keep slamming it on things."
The wry tone of his handler's voice did little to assuage his irritation. Of course, Jacob couldn't admit that over an earpiece where others at headquarters could overhear. Instead, he bit the inside of his cheek until he felt more in control. He carefully picked up his phone and held it close enough to his ear to cause just a miilsecond of feedback through the earpiece. Maybe that would teach his friend a lesson. "I'll be more careful, dad," he murmured quietly enough to keep anyone around from overhearing.
Marcus' amusement remained almost palpable despite his silence, apparently immune to the jabs about being the oldest member of their class of trainees, and Jacob cursed the fact that he couldn't say more. He nodded along with a pretend conversation on the far side of the phone, barked a few curt responses to questions that were never asked and made a show of hanging up.
In childish retaliation that would only make himself feel better, he twisted the volume down on his earpiece. Not enough that he couldn't hear anything, but enough to make sure that he had a moment to collect himself.
He glanced enviously at the stark white hotel across the street, imagining what it must be like to stay somewhere like that. Normally, he didn't concern himself with his employers' lifestyle -- there was no point in ruminating on something that would never change -- but today he was apparently self-pitying enough to indulge. This was actually relatively modest by the Montrovian Royal Family's standards. Normally, they chose to stay in a private villa and have their security around the compound, but the princess had requested that they stay here. They were "slumming" in a hotel that cost more per night than he most people earned in a week.
His mouth twisted again as he considered that. Not the disparity between his salary and her lifestyle as much as the fact that she was already trying to downplay her wealth to a man who was famous in his own right. If living the way she was accustomed to made him uncomfortable now, how would getting married help? He just didn't see the point of getting into a relationship where you knew you would make each other miserable. Not that anyone had asked for his opinion.
There was a slight commotion as a stretch limousine drove in front of him, and he allowed himself a long exhale as he forcefully pushed his chair away from the wrought-iron table, taking a kind of perverse delight in the horrible squealing sound that it made on the concrete. The display earned him a few annoyed glances from the other patrons trying to enjoy their coffee in peace, but Jacob didn't mind. He doubled-down by yelling at his phone and storming away.
Once safely down the block, he clicked his mircrophone on. "En route," he said tersely.
Marcus sighed. "And here I was hoping to avoid a red carpet today. Get down to the theatre as quickly as you can. Just watch her walk into the theatre and we should be in the clear. Berlin is tailing her car."
YOU ARE READING
The Elite (Romantic Suspense)
Romance"Keep your head down," he said. "I don't like what's going on in there." Daphne leaned forward until she was almost bent in half, cheek pressed against the satin skirt of her gown. "What is happening in there?" she managed after a moment. And who ar...
