Free An Affair of Deceit by Jamie Michele Page B

porn.”
    “Please don’t talk about my dick. And Italian porn’s not your dream. Your dream is to prove that the ice princess’s daddy is a threat to national security.”
    “Now that’s the truth.” Greene’s face became stony and serious, no longer the lighthearted best friend, but the ever-vigilant counterintelligence officer. His moods had always turned on a dime, but Riley understood. The only reason that Greene and Riley could trade barbs in the midst of a serious investigation was because they spent their whole lives in a series of serious investigations. If they waited until things slowed down to crack a joke, they’d never laugh. That’s how agents burned out. So Riley appreciated Greene’s pliable moods and warped sense of humor. It kept them both sane and reminded them that they were something other than CI agents, distrusted by their peers and ignored by everyone else.
    Greene guided Riley down the narrow stairs that led out to the street, slinging his gym bag over his shoulder as he talkedquietly. “I’m on a plane to Algiers tomorrow morning. Couldn’t get anything sooner. Fucking dickwads in transportation said they were all booked. I promise you they’d have found a spot for someone not in CI.”
    “I know, I know. Everyone hates us.”
    “When do you leave for Nice?”
    “Tomorrow afternoon. Same deal. But it gives me time to rifle through some State Department files.”
    “Fantastic. Those bastards are hiding something.”
    Riley gave Greene a firm nod before they parted at the street into separate cars. “Everyone is.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

    A BIGAIL DID SOMETHING the next morning that she’d never done before.
    She called in sick. Or something like that. She didn’t actually say that she was ill, but she wasn’t sure how people normally went about taking time off from work on short notice, so she simply told the DA’s executive assistant that an event had occurred that required her attention. He’d sounded concerned and asked her if she was OK. Being “OK” implied an absentminded acceptance of one’s present circumstances, and by that definition, Abigail was never OK. Abigail never absentmindedly accepted anything. But she understood it to be a common statement of emotional support, so she took care to assure the man that she was indeed “OK.”
    She needed time off to find answers. Over and over again, she replayed Riley’s comforting voice telling her mother, “I know he visits you.”
    I know he visits you.
The words contained layers of meaning for Abigail. Yes, it meant that her father had, for some reason, chosen to visit her mother and keep himself from his daughter. But it also meant that her mother had been lying to her for years, and that Riley wasn’t nearly as honest as he pretended to be. He could have told her this bit of information, but he hadn’t. He’dchosen to keep it from her, even as he insisted that she trust him. Then he showed up at her dojo with that slice of beefcake, and for what reason? To intimidate her? It made no sense.
    So she wasn’t OK. Not one bit. But it was 8:47 a.m. and she was sitting in a heavily cushioned armchair in a musty office in Arlington, waiting to speak with the only person who might be able to answer her questions about her father.
    “Abigail Mason,” said a gravelly male voice behind her. “I always knew you would grow into a beautiful woman. But I never imagined it would happen so quickly!”
    She stood and turned to greet the speaker, a white-haired man who leaned heavily on an elaborately carved wooden cane.
    Donald Wheeler was much older than she remembered. His pale gray suit was perfectly pressed, though, as it always had been, and his cheerful orange handkerchief and matching tie spoke of his still-optimistic nature.
    “It has been too long,” she said, and stepped forward to give him a gentle kiss on his cheek. It was cool and velvety, like the thin skin of a grandfather. Which he must be, she realized. She’d