Free Missing Lynx by Fiona Quinn Page A

pointy-toed shoes. Can you go get the car without me? Maybe pick me up out front? “ I glanced at my watch. “We need to head right over to Burdock. The team is probably taking up their positions.”
     

Eight
     
    S triker pulled into the underground garage of the Mason Building. The enormous glass skyscraper loomed above us with its marble front steps. Ralph Lauren clad executives passed each other on the sidewalk with curt nods.
    Thoughts of leopards filled my head. “After the mission do you want to go with me to visit Spyder?” I asked.
    “No.” Striker shot me a glance then followed the car ahead of us through the ticket gate.
    That seemed abrupt. I frowned at his tone. “Okay, I’ll go myself, then.”
    “I’m sorry, Lynx, but no,” Commander Striker Rheas said in his full-on I’m-in-charge-so-don’t-mess-with-me voice. “I planned to tell you about this after we’re done with today. Command says Spyder’s no-contact until he can be debriefed.”
    “What? But I haven’t spent any time with him. I need to talk to him. And what about Sylanos?”
    “Exactly. Spyder’s bringing in highly classified intel, and he needs to be no-profile until he’s safe. Command is running covert surveillance. They don’t want anyone associated with Iniquus anywhere near that hospital, calling attention.”
    “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” I worked to keep my lower lip from pouting.
    “I didn’t want you emotional. Your full attention has to be on the target. This is one of Command’s pet projects, so they’ll be watching the outcome with a microscope. No room for error.” He swiveled to back the car into a spot near the elevator. “You need your head in the game.”
    “You don’t think I know how to focus?”
    “Precaution.”
    “Mrs. Nelson’s up at Suburban.”
    “I told them. Command says keep it to a minimum and don’t go anywhere near Spyder. You’ll put more than the mission in jeopardy.”
    “But…” I thought the honed edge on the look he sent me was unduly sharp.
    “Seriously, you aren’t to whip out the shadow walking or anything else from your bag of tricks. Command gets wind that you’re ignoring a direct order, and I won’t be able to help you. You’ve got to wait until Spyder’s stabilized and back at headquarters, then you can have your reunion. Got it?”
    “Yes, sir.” I gave him a sarcastic salute.
    He released his seat belt and popped open the car door. His gaze slid over to me. When I raised a sardonic brow, he seemed to re-think what he was going to say and got out. Smart boy, he knows when to leave me the hell alone.
    Striker took the elevator. I stomped out of the garage and around to the front of the Mason Building, which housed Burdock and Associates on the top three floors. It ticked me off when Striker treated me like a child. Head in the game. I’ll show him head in the game.
    I gave myself a shake, lifted my chin in a corporate-confident way, clacked up the stairs, and pushed through the revolving door to the UBT National Bank that took up the ground floor. As I walked across the lobby, I felt insects crawling over my skin and too many eyes on me. I scanned the space for anything out of place, but everything looked the way I would expect. The heebie-jeebies — my personal-warning system — made me want to turn around and run. Huh. That didn’t bode well. I forced my feet in the direction of the elevator bank and rode up to the executive floor.
    When I stepped out, the receptionist glanced up at me with cheerful professionalism. Before she could ask me my business, I gave a terse, “Good Morning, Andrea,” and checked my watch. “I’m running a little late. Did Seph beat me in?”
    Andrea seemed confused. She nodded. “Yes, ma’am. He came in ten minutes ago.”
     
    I slipped into Richy’s office. His briefcase and coat lay on his desk, Richy himself was nowhere to be found. I examined the briefcase lock – keyless, the kind where you rolled