Page 4 of Tracking Safety

“It’s no bother.” He stopped beside the filing cabinet and casually rested one hand on top of it. “You know how I feel about the paperwork for my business, my Ellie. Some of what I deal with is sensitive. Confidential. My customers depend on me for their privacy.”

“Of course.” She held his gaze. “I wasn’t interested in your files. I was looking for my passport. Nothing else.”

He studied her again.

Keep your expression neutral. Don’t let him see your lie, your fear.

But those photos slammed into her thoughts again.

Roderick might have something to do with those people’s deaths. Her husband might be a killer.

A lump formed in her throat.

She had to make sure none of those thoughts reached her face.

Roderick stepped closer and murmured, “You’re a smart woman, Ellie. That’s one of the things I’ve always admired about you.”

She waited, sensing he had more to say. But her skin pricked in anticipation of what might come next.

“You’re smart enough to understand there are things in a man’s life that are private. Things that need to remain private. If they’re not private, then there are consequences.”

His hand closed around her wrist, and his grip tightened as his thumb brushed across her skin.

Her breath caught.

If he squeezed hard enough . . . could he crush her bone?

She didn’t know. But that’s how it felt.

He glowered at her. “Do we understand each other?”

She peered at him—at his pleasant face, his steady eyes, his smile that had charmed her across a room three years ago.

She was staring at a stranger, she realized. She didn’t even know who he was anymore.

Had she ever really known?

Probably not.

“Ellie?”

“Yes.” Her voice cracked as she forced herself to speak. “I understand.”

He released her wrist and stepped back, his smile returning to full warmth as though a switch had been thrown.

She wanted to rub her wrist. To release her breath.

She did neither. Not yet.

He moved to the desk and straightened a stack of papers. “Check your coat pockets for the passport. You probably tucked it in there last time we traveled.”

“Of course. I’ll do that now.” She slipped past him and out of the office.

But tension still coursed through her body.

Who exactly had she married? Was her husband . . . a contract killer?

Six weeks had passed since Ellie had snooped in Roderick’s office.