8
“Oh my gawd, girlfriend. You really don’t get it, do you?” Zoe’s wink asked forgiveness after the fact for the familiarity.
“What don’t I get?” Nikita looked helplessly about the small boutique. Not a black t-shirt or pair of camo pants in sight. She did most of her civilian clothes shopping at thrift stores because they were cheap and what the hell did she care. She almost swallowed her tongue when she glanced at the price tag on a simple white blouse.
The shopkeeper hovered in the background, doing a very credible job of not being irritated at being called to work early by the hotel manager.
“You’re with Drake Roman…the Drake Roman,” she said it loudly, with a tone of awe.
Nikita tried to shush her, but Zoe didn’t even stop for a breath.
“I heard that when the military took out……
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