Page 13 of Acting on Instinct
Lynx was like something out of a fantasy novel; a child endowed with the wisdom of the ages. Lynx wasn’t a child. And she didn’t even seem innocent. Young, yes.
Unnerved might be a good word for how he was feeling.
It was like she could look into his eyes, reach in and pull the truth from his toes up his leg, and drag it, tickling and odd-feeling, out through his nostrils. It was both glorious and disturbing, Nomad thought as he trailed behind their escort down the elevator and out the atrium doors.
As soon as the door shut behind them, White rounded on him, mimicking Lynx’s voice. “Oh, you remembered hallucinating about garlic and aquarium gravel after you took a blow to your head? Perfect, then you should go look in this foreign hospital to get on your target’s trail.” She snatched her keys from her purse.
Nomad had the image of Lynx fully formed in his imagination, bent over, looking at her bare toes, much like Alice in Wonderland did in one of the cartoon scenes. As if she had found a trail to follow and was considering it. Alice in Wonderland was a fair approximation of how that all went down.
When they reached her car, White said, “I know what you’re thinking.”
“I am thinking that I am, in equal measures, elated and stunned,” Nomad said as he headed toward the passenger side,where he’d have to fold himself back into the cramped space. “I don’t think I’m quite to the point where I could think anything other than that it was quite the experience.”
“Wasn’t it?” White pulled her sunglasses from her shoulder bag and slipped them on her face. “That’s how these things usually go.” She leaned her elbows onto the roof of her car. “Once Lynx solved a case, my colleagues had been pulling their hair out over it for months. And she waltzed in there, watched their little video, and solved it by seeing a tiny stain on the man’s shirt. The obvious is so obvious. The answer is square in front of you. Why, for example, would a trained CIA field officer not look at those tapes and think, ‘Look at that odd colored hair and strange marching motion he makes when he runs—urban fashion forward and the muscle memory of a soldier?’” White’s voice went up the scale, and she added a Disneyesque lilt. Maybe she was thinking Alice in Wonderland, too. “No, no, silly goose, why those are the hallmarks of a horrible medical condition little seen since the end of the 19th century.” She threw a glance over her shoulder, then focused back on Nomad. “I try very hard not to be a jealous bitch around her,” White admitted. “But damned she’s got skills.”
“Wild. I don’t think I will recover from that very soon. I hope she’s right, though. And I also hope that this man’s comrades didn’t put him out of his misery.” He lifted his hand to salute, and White swung her gaze toward Ty Newcombe.
The two stepped forward so he’d cross their path.
“Fancy meeting you here,” White called out.
“Two friendly faces.” Ty grinned, raising his hand in response as he closed the distance. “It’s a good omen.”
Ty and Nomad had been Delta Force Echo brothers before Nomad’s injuries in that last fated mission.
“What are you up to at Iniquus?” White asked, tipping her head almost straight back as her diminutive size came up nextto Ty’s height. Nomad didn’t know White all that well, but he sensed that White wasn’t at all surprised to see Ty and already knew why he was there.
“I have an interview with their K9 division, Cerberus.”
White smiled. “Well, a position here is the golden ticket, which means the opportunity is rare.”
Ty dropped his gaze to his watch, then looked toward the door.
“Yes. You need to be early. On time is late,” White made a shooing gesture. “Get in there. I hope the best for you.”
“Good luck, man,” Nomad called out. After Ty was out of hearing range, Nomad glanced down at White.
She was staring unblinkingly after Ty with a storm in her eyes.
“Everything okay?” Nomad asked.
“Yeah, I was just thinking.” She gestured toward her head. “Wheels churning. I want to drop you off at the hospital to check on Red and then get to Langley to see if there’s anything that can be done to find a man with a potential case of phossy jaw.” She knocked her hip into him. “Hallucinated that he was a vampire hunter, really? You couldn’t have said anything like that to me before I came to ask Lynx?”
“I don’t often share my hallucinations. Mainly because I’m not often in a car accident that I might attribute them to.” He reached up to adjust his eyepatch. “What would you have done with that image had I painted it for you?”
White spun her keychain around her finger, then lifted the fob to unlock the car doors. “Nothing. I never sat around a campfire with an Uncle Stan, so I don’t have a phossy jaw story tucked into my pink skirt pocket.”
“You probably don’t even own a pink skirt.”
“Do you think that’s my problem?” White asked with a tip of the head.
“Quite possibly.” Nomad reached for the door handle, mapping out a strategy for folding himself into the tiny interior. “She’s got a lot of those little stories to tell, does she?”
“She astonishes the best of us.” White opened her door. “Now we get to test the theory.”
Chapter Five
Ty
