Page 81 of Dead Drift

“Everything okay?” Declan called, popping his head around the kitchen doorframe.

She smiled. “Just fine.”

Declan nodded and ducked back into the galley-style kitchen.

Her dad chuckled. “I see he takes very good care of you, and I’m sure you do the same for him.” He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. “Go to him, my Tania. We will have more time to talk.”

Tanner just stared as the dad she was beginning to realize she had never really known smiled warmly at her and walked away.

“How’d it go?” Declan asked as she moved into the kitchen.

“Very different than I anticipated.”

“Oh?” Declan’s brows arched as a smile curled on his lips. “He finally saw the beautiful, strong, passionate woman I get the honor of seeing every day?”

She loved this man with her whole heart.

“Sorry to interrupt”—Luke stood in the doorway—“but Malcolm’s here with some news.”

34

Luke watched Malcolm join the group, and particularly observed how Malcolm greeted David with reserved appraisal.

David’s cell rang. “Excuse me,” he said. “I need to take this.”

Luke nodded as David left the room.

Malcolm cleared his throat, directing his full attention at Luke. “Can we speak privately?”

Luke nodded. “Of course.”

The two moved into what had been Bedan’s living room.

“I understand David told you about Jennifer McLean.”

“Who? Oh, you mean Caroline Ladew? You knew?”

“Not until very recently.”

“And you didn’t feel I needed to be read into the situation?”

“The cause for Ebeid’s hatred of America isn’t pertinent to stopping him.”

“No, but the date of the attack sure is.”

“I don’t get to choose what I get read into or when.”

“What if David hadn’t come?”

“Then I assume we would have been notified before the time came, but the focus needs to remain on finding them before the attack date. You’re obviously close. You found this warehouse. You’re right on Ebeid’s heels, and Langley knows that. You’ve never failed to come through, and the higher-ups know that as w—” Malcolm stopped short, his penetrating gaze shifting just beyond Luke’s right shoulder.

Chanel No. 5.

Without hesitation, Luke spun around, low to the ground, kicking Lauren’s feet out from under her.

She fired but missed. Not like her, unless . . .

“Malcolm?”