Cooper Security 06 - Secret Intentions by Paula Graves Page B

with hers and crossed to the bench. “Mind if we sit?” he asked.
    Quinn looked down at the pigeons. “Don’t scare away the birds.”
    “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jesse murmured. He put Evie on the outside of the bench and settled between her and Quinn. “Nice getup.”
    “Worked hours for this look,” Quinn murmured. “Heller says you suspect Morris Gamble is involved with the Espera Group.”
    “I do.”
    “He’s not influential enough to help them push the treaty,” Quinn said, his tone dismissive.
    “Are you suggesting we pack up and go back home?” Jesse’s tone was low but fierce.
    “I’m saying you need to look a little deeper than Secretary Gamble.” Quinn held out the bag to Jesse. “Seeds for the birds?”
    “I’m not a big fan of your cryptic hogwash.” Jesse reached into the bag. His hand went still a moment, then came back out, curled into a fist. He opened his palm halfway and Evie saw, in the middle of a small mound of birdseed, a slip of paper with a phone number written on it.
    She looked up at Quinn. He met her gaze, a slight smile curving his lips. “Lots of parties go on here in D.C. Ever been to one?”
    “A few,” she said carefully.
    “Lucky you.” Quinn tossed birdseed to the birds at his feet. Four pigeons grappled for the morsels, wings flapping.
    “Call the number tonight after six. You’ll find out what to do next.” Quinn stood up, handing the bag of seeds to Evie. “Be sure to feed them all the grain.” He staggered away, favoring one leg and looking for all the world like a homeless man, drunk and down on his luck.
    She reached into the bag and found there was only a handful of birdseed left. As she scooped it into her palm to toss to the pigeons, she felt something cold and metal against her fingertips.
    She glanced at Jesse.
    “What?” he asked.
    She withdrew her hand, the birdseed still nestled in the closed palm. She tossed the seeds to the pigeons and handed Jesse the bag. “Looks like it’s all gone. Can you check and see?”
    He gave her an odd look but opened the bag and looked inside. His only reaction was a slight lift of his dark eyebrows. “You hungry?” He nodded toward the street, where a food truck had pulled up to the curb. Pedestrians had already detoured from the sidewalk and the park to line up in front of the service window.
    She hadn’t eaten at a food truck in a long time. “It’s a gamble,” she warned him. “Very hit-or-miss.”
    “I’m not afraid to take a risk.” He folded the paper bag into a neat square and stuck it in the front pocket of his jeans. “Let’s go before the line gets too long.”
    Evie found her patience growing short as they waited in line to order from the bright blue truck painted in big white letters that read “Levantino.” Its menu, painted on a board hung out on the side of the truck, boasted a variety of Middle Eastern favorites.
    Jesse ordered a lamb pita, while Evie opted for a falafel pita wrap. They ate as they walked toward the Metro station on the corner.
    “Jesse—”
    He caught her hand, squeezing it gently. “Let’s talk when we get back to the motel.” He held on to her hand all the way to the Metro station, letting go only when they had to toss the remains of their lunch before getting on the train.
    The ride to the Virginia Square Metro station was short but frustratingly tense for Evie, who had a million questions about their brief but eventful encounter with Alexander Quinn. She held her tongue until they reached their motel room.
    “What kind of key is that?” she asked as soon as the door shut behind them, closing them safely inside the small, neat room. She flicked on the light and met Jesse’s dark gaze.
    “I’m not sure.” Jesse pulled the paper bag from his pocket, unfolded it and dumped the contents on the dresser top. A few stray seeds spilled out along with the brass key Evie had found inside the bag when she was feeding the pigeons.
    “It looks like a house