Page 38 of Freeing Lark

His chest tightened. “Well, hell,” Voodoo murmured through the comm.

Hoot glanced around instinctively. “Don’t say it.”

“I didn't say anything.”

“You were going to.”

“Was just going to mention that your girl cleans up nice.”

“She’s not my girl.”

“Wow. She’s so pretty,” Haley said, having obviously found her on the security camera. “When are you gonna introduce us to your girl?” she whined.

Hoot pinched the bridge of his nose. “Again, not my girl.”

Eggs chuckled. “Sure. Then why can’t you take your eyes off of her.”

“Shut up,” Hoot growled.

“Another one bites the dust,” teases Spark.

Hoot ignored them. But sure enough, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She was standing beside her parents, smiling politely. Except it wasn’t her smile. He knew that now. He could recognize the little crease that appeared between her eyebrows when she was uncomfortable. The slight tightening of her shoulders. The way her fingers drummed a restless rhythm against her thigh when she was trying to keep her emotions under control.

He’d seen those things in Bell Creek. He’d seen them when Marilyn had asked about her family. When her aunt expressed her concern for Wren, he’d seen them. And now he saw all of them.

She was miserable, yet nobody around her seemed to notice. Nobody except him. Hoot frowned. Since when had he gotten to know her well enough to recognize those tiny tells? He didn’t have an answer.

When Wren and Bradley joined her group, Hoot’s attention immediately sharpened. Bradley Whitmore looked exactly like the kind of man Hoot expected to see in this room. The man wore an expensive tuxedo, his hair perfectly styled, and a confident smile graced his lips. The kind of man who’d never had to wonder whether a door would open for him.

Bradley approached Lark, stretching a hand toward her. Then the bastard leaned in for a hug. Something primitive and immediate surged through Hoot, yelling at him to move.

He took one step forward. Then stopped himself. What the hell was he doing? Lark wasn’t his. She wasn’t even part of his assignment. He had no reason to intervene.

Fortunately, she handled it herself. At the last second, Lark smoothly sidestepped the embrace. With a practiced move full of grace, she extended her hand. Bradley’s smile faltered, but he still took it. Lark’s mother looked furious. Hoot almost smiled.

“Atta girl,” Voodoo murmured.

Hoot’s jaw tightened. “Must you?”

“You wanted to throw Whitmore across the ballroom.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Your feet disagreed.”

Hoot glanced down. He had, in fact, moved several steps closer. Damn it.

Why was Lark here? She’d left Bradley. Left this world. Everything he’d seen of her in Bell Creek suggested she’d chosen a completely different life. So why come back?

He should have asked her the other day at the bakery. Before she’d nearly knocked herself unconscious. But then he’d have had to explain more about himself. And that was complicated.

Security was technically true. But Condor’s Overwatch handled government contracts. Some were classified. Some involved work that never appeared on paper. Some operations happened off the books because official channels weren’t always an option. Operational security was second nature to him since his SEAL days.

It wasn’t a secret. But it wasn’t exactly something he could discuss over coffee with a woman he’d known for a week.

He returned his attention to the room. Hours passed. The gala moved through dinner, speeches, networking, and enough political glad-handing to make Hoot want to escape through the nearest window.

Then he saw Lark again. She stood alone near one of the marble columns, well away from the crowd. Her shoulders sagged. She looked exhausted. Hoot shouldn’t have gone to her. She wasn’t part of his job. He knew that. He also knew he was already moving.