Danger Mine: A Base Branch Novel Read Online Free

stools like well-mannered gulls awaiting the fisherman’s catch of the day. Khani willed the quiet man to look her way, but his head stayed down. His hands moved efficiently over his workspace. His mouth held a concentrated line.
    Every tiny table boasted coltish Hill staffers, save for the recently vacated four top, disgracing the honor of Minoru’s nigiri masterpieces by leaving two yellowtail hunks behind. Bowls of soy sauce tinted green with gobs of wasabi added to the insult. The two-seater window bar around the foyer hosted one man hulking enough to take up both spaces. He wore a light jacket with the collar kicked up. The gold and maroon of a Redskins hat obscured his face further. His concealment and sheer size pinged her radar. Not to mention he didn’t fit the customer mold, but then good sushi enticed all sorts.
    Spring air wafted over her neck. Loath to have someone at her back that wasn’t a Base Branch operative, Khani turned her back to the glass partition and the out-of-place man. A lawyer-type in a dark suit and loosened tie tripped on the tip of his dress shoe and stumbled his way inside. The chap’s briefcase connected with her knee. Its impact created a nice pop in the narrow entryway.
    Horror crinkled his face. “I’m such an idiot. I’m so sorry.” He swiped the sweat off his brow and straightened. “I blame it on too many cups of coffee and too many hours of depositions. Are you okay?”
    The impact hardly registered. “It’s fine.”
    “You’re not from around here, are you?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “Why don’t you let me buy you dinner as an apology and you can tell me about what brought you to the States?”
    This fella, though cute, didn’t have the clearance or time for that long and twisted story. “I think you’ll have trouble enough finding a spot on your own.”
    “Naw,” he pointed over her shoulder. “The window bar is open.”
    Khani snapped her head around. Three twenty-dollar bills stuck out from beneath a large nigiri tray and not one spec of food cluttered the thing. She didn’t consider the mound of wasabi to be food. She scanned the interior, but didn’t find the man who knew how to eat sushi.
    “There was a big man at the bar. Did you see where he went?”
    “Nope. I was distracted by my clumsiness and a pretty Brit. So, what do you say, join me?”
    “Thank you for the offer, but I’m just here to pick up my order. You go ahead and snag the window before someone else gets it.” Behind him another staffer eyed the window seats, but waited outside the door for them to move.
    “Fair enough. Sorry about your knee.” The bloke bowed his head, and then dipped around the corner to the only two walk-in seats in the place.
    The group outside the door swelled from one to three. A lone waitress hustled from table to table. Her cheeks flushed as though she’d been at it for a while. Khani groaned, and then sucked in a lung full of the aroma that kept her coming back here too many nights in a row. Her stomach gurgled. A masochist at heart, she stepped around the jutted corner to the front window bar to get out of the way and inhaled again.
    She choked on the distinct scent of citrus, wood, and man. The couple holding hands while simultaneously gnashing bits of sashimi at the table three feet from the tip of her boot swung their gazes on her. But the cologne and the memories it brought with it gridlocked her attention.
    Her gaze cut left and right. She’d been drunk on that scent many times, but had only partaken of its host one delicious day. None of the stick figures in suits had the height and bulk of a rugby player. Not one of them had the gaze that cut her through to the soul. But it couldn’t be a coincidence that a chap of the same size and smell as Street haunted the restaurant she called dinner nearly every night of the week.
    Oxygen knotted in her lungs. Her palms slicked. Every nerve in her body pulled her toward the back of the building,