Page 49 of Fallen Hero

Shirtless asshole.

“You might wanna close your mouth, sweetness,” I suggested.

Angry blue eyes sliced my way. “My mouth wasn’t open,” Calli snapped.

“Can you not piss the woman off and make breakfast?” Fallon asked. “Or piss her off, but do it out of the kitchen so I can make breakfast. I’m starving.”

“If I have a say,” Pete started. “Stop pissing off the woman and cook. Your French toast is better than Fallon’s eggs.”

Throughout this, Calista’s gaze swung to each man as he spoke until coming back to me with a brow winged up in question. “You cook?”

“Believe it or not, sweetness, I am self-sufficient.”

“In more ways than one,” Fallon muttered.

I quashed my smile at the last second. “Go bother someone else.”

“C’mon, that was too easy.”

Calista glanced around, waiting for someone to fill her in. “What was easy?”

“Nothing, darlin’. How’d you sleep?” Fallon smartly changed the subject.

“Fine.”

The word snapped out of her mouth a little too quickly. I would understand why a few seconds later as she turned to busy herself with the coffee maker, but not before I saw the pink hit her cheeks.

Faker.

Suddenly, I was in a better mood. She knew that I knew she was feeling me up while feigning sleep, and that blush was proof I’d been right. Not that I needed it, but it still felt damn good getting it.

And the pink.

I’d take that too.

“While Mase makes us breakfast, let’s go over your op,” Pete suggested. “Tom sent us over some intel on Amir Bakir and his operation, but I’d like to hear your take. But first, you should know our team’s en route. They’ll be here late tonight.”

I turned just in time to see Calista’s flash of relief before she covered it with a frown.

“Of course he did,” she sneered, even though she already knew Tom had sent us the information on her operation.

“Amir offers his facilities for a cut of the sales, but he doesn’t provide the women. Part of the service he provides also includes vetting, though his idea of screening the clients is verifying they have the money to purchase. Am I understanding that correctly?”

With her mug of coffee in hand, she leaned against the counter next to where I was working and nodded. “Yes. He only provides the location. From what I’ve gathered for this auction, Ahmad Sindi will be the largest supplier. There’s also a Russian, Sergei Volkov, who is rumored to be bringing women to sell. However, Atlanta hasn’t been able to confirm.”

Ahmad Sindi.

I dropped the fork I was using to beat the eggs and gave Calista my full pissed-off attention. “The same Ahmad who flew to Mexico with his men to pick you up?”

“One ’n the same.”

Her nonchalance only served to piss me off further.

“So your cover’s blown before the operation even begins,” I noted.

“Ahmad didn’t see me. I wasn’t using my real name in Mexico, I won’t be using it here, and no pictures of me were taken. All Ahmad knew was there was a blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman of Irish descent for sale.”

She was hiding something. There was no way Ahmad would personally fly to Mexico to pick up a random woman.