Just before halftime, however, they hit their first glitch during a time-out.
“So what’s going on with you and Rylann these days?” Dex asked casually.
Kyle froze with his beer halfway to his mouth.
Such a stupid way to get caught.
He’d been out of town since Wednesday and hadn’t had the opportunity to fill Dex in on the clandestine nature of his goings-on with Prosecutrix Pierce. Nor had he had any idea that Nick would bring Rylann’s boss’s boyfriend to the game.
Still, he’d be damned if their cover would be blown on his watch. He’d promised Rylann that he would keep their relationshi—er, hot, no-strings-attached fling—a secret, and he intended to keep that promise. Because if she thought that her boss thought something was up, she would undoubtedly put the kibosh on all future rendezvous.
And he wasn’t ready to give up Rylann quite yet.
So he stretched out in his chair, playing it casual. “Nothing’s going on, unfortunately. She shot me down that night at the club. Something about not mixing business with pleasure.”
Dex frowned, understandably confused, since Kyle had told him he was going to Rylann’s that night, and opened his mouth to say something.
Kyle subtly shook his head.
Dex paused for a split second, then his eyes flickered over to Jack and Nick, seeming to catch on that something was up. So he, too, played it casual. “That sucks. I thought you were in there that night.”
“You weren’t the only one,” Kyle said with a chuckle. “Just wasn’t meant to be, I guess.”
“You’re talking about Rylann Pierce?”
The question came from Jack. Kyle looked over his shoulder and saw the FBI agent studying him curiously.
“Good guess,” Kyle said, maintaining a look of nonchalance.
Jack shrugged. “Not really. Unusual name. Plus, I know you worked with her. My partner is Sam Wilkins—he mentioned that Rylann had interviewed you as part of the Quinn investigation.”
Damn FBI agents and assistant U.S. attorneys. Apparently, they were thick as thieves when it came to knowing everyone else’s business. “Oh. Right.”
Jack took a sip of his beer. “When you were working with Rylann, did she ever tell you the meth lab story?”
Kyle studied the agent, thinking he suddenly seemed awfully chatty. He also noticed that Nick was watching both of them closely. “Not that I recall.”
“It’s a good one. Made its way around all the FBI offices,” Jack said. “Apparently, a few years ago, your friend Rylann worked on a big drug case in San Francisco—an organized crime group that was running an underground meth lab in the middle of this overgrown wooded area. Anyway, she tells the agents working the investigation that she wants to see the lab in person. But on the day they’re set to go out to the lab, she’s running late because of court or something, and she shows up to meet them wearing a skirt suit and heels.”
Kyle smiled at that part. Of course she did.
“So these two agents, who were likely being smug and cocky about the situation, decide not to tell Rylann the exact setup of this meth lab,” Jack continued. “Then they drive her out to the middle of the forest and take her to this three-foot-wide hole in the ground that’s covered by a metal door—kind of like a submarine hatch. And when they open the door, there’s nothing but a ladder that goes fifteen feet underground.”
“Sounds like something out of Lost,” Dex said.
“Exactly.” Jack cocked his head and looked at Kyle. “Hey, has anyone ever told you—”
“Only people who need to get lives, since the show ended two years ago,” Kyle growled. He rolled his hand, gesturing impatiently. “Let’s get back to this underground hatch.” He could picture Rylann, in one of her skirt suits and heels, standing in the forest with two dickhead FBI agents who were trying to rattle her.
Jack went on with the story. “So Rylann and these two agents are standing over the hatch, and she points to the hole in the ground and asks, ‘Is that where we’re going?’ And they say yes, and of course they’re looking at her in her suit and heels and thinking she’s going to balk at the whole thing. But instead, she takes off her shoes and tucks them into the back of her skirt like it’s nothing, and says, ‘How about if I go first? That way you boys aren’t tempted to look up my skirt.’ And then down the ladder she went.”
Kyle laughed hard at that. Man, this girl impressed the hell out of him sometimes.
Actually, all the time.
“You were right. That is a good story.” Mindful of the role he still needed to play, he shook his head with mock regret. “Too bad it didn’t work out. She and I could’ve had a lot of fun.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Jack said dismissively. “I heard a rumor that she and Cade Morgan are getting close. Really close, if you know what I mean.”
Morgan.
His nemesis.
Kyle gripped the arm of his seat so tightly he was surprised it didn’t break off in his hand. “Good for Morgan,” he managed coolly.
Just then, the halftime buzzer rang.
Nick stood up. “The scoreboard doesn’t lie, sports fans,” he said, gloating over the fact that the Knicks were up by eight. “Which means, if I remember correctly, that one of you boys owes me a drink.” He clasped Kyle’s shoulder. “I’ll let you have the honor, Sawyer. Come join me at the bar.”