Page 52 of Lock ’N’ Load

Lastly, the boot-cut jeans he’d gotten her were slightly snug, and he loved that, too. The denim hugged her thighs, displaying just how shapely her legs were. She might be petite, but everything about her was perfectly proportioned. He was betting those jeans also hugged a cute ass, too. Seeing just how good she looked made him wonder if she’d discovered the green silk garment in the bottom of the bag or the matching undies. Yeah, that had been fun, shopping in the lingerie department for women’s undergarments. He hoped she liked what he’d selected. Particularly the silver charm bracelet that, he noted with satisfaction, she wore around her left wrist.

Aside from the toe ring, he knew she didn’t wear jewelry so the bracelet had been a risk, one that hadn’t been completely altruistic.

A month ago, he’d ordered a tracker to hook on Sheba’s collar, one he could link to a satellite in the event his dog was lost or stolen. Instead, he’d hooked it on the charm bracelet, figuring since it was also silver in color, it would blend in with the dangly heart, star, dragonfly, and other cutesy charms.

While he’d been ogling her assets, she’d walked up to his desk, trailing her fingers lovingly over his equipment, wearing an adorable look of wonder on her face, as if she’d just discovered the holy grail. Starting with his open laptop, she inspected his other two computers, the printers, scanners, and bank of monitors, touching every piece of hardware as if she were fondling a lover.

“Oh my.” She smiled. “They’re…beautiful. Why do you have all this?”

He laughed. So that’s what it took to get her to smile at him? A bunch of inanimate hardware? Only a top-notch CIA analyst accustomed to operating the highest-end computers in the world would have such a complete appreciation of his operating system.

“Partly because my grandfather developed a fondness for technology late in life, and partly because of the plans I have for this place.”

“Plans?” She leaned on the edge of his desk, swirling the ice cubes in her glass, making the charms on her bracelet jingle.

“Another time.” Explaining would only make him start thinking about Jerry again, and there were more important things they had to discuss. He logged off the internet and pulled up a blank Word document. “Have a seat.” He stood and indicated she should sit at his desk. After she did, he pushed in the rolling chair, noting her feet dangled a good three inches off the floor. “In as much detail as possible, type out what was said in that chat room, and who said it.”

Swiveling the chair, she looked up at him. “You know I can’t do that. It’s beyond classified. It’s ten levels above top secret.”

“I don’t give a shit.” He grabbed the police report Jake had given him earlier and smacked it on the desk with enough force that she flinched. “Someone injected epoxy into your door locks and dead bolts, then glued all your windows shut so they wouldn’t open. That same someone doused the inside of your house with kerosene. If by some miracle you escaped, I guarantee you he was out there waiting to finish the job he botched the other night. If Jake and I hadn’t been there, he would have. That oughta shitcan any doubts you may have about the danger you’re in. You were supposed to die in that fire. Do you know what happens to the human body when it burns?”

Without waiting for a response, he leaned in. “If you’re lucky, you’ll die of smoke inhalation before the flames get to you. If not, first your hair will burn off. Then the outer layers of your skin will start to fry and peel away. The pain will be excruciating, at least until your nerve endings are fried and you can’t feel a damned thing.”

He’d kept the inflection in his voice flat, devoid of emotion, but when he began envisioning what he’d just described happening to Trista, he lost it, and he couldn’t stop his tone from hardening more. “Then your skin will shrink and split open. You might burn for as long as seven hours, but don’t worry…” Leaning even closer, he planted his hands on the chair’s armrests, caging her in, growling through gritted teeth. “You’ll be dead long before then.”

With his face so close to hers, barely a few inches away, he had an up close and personal view of the tears gathering in her eyes just before they tumbled down her cheeks. When her lips trembled, he felt like the biggest shithead on the planet, but he had a point to make.

Shit. He straightened, dragging a hand down his face, taking a deep breath to calm himself. “I called Langley while I was out, and those dickheads you work for still won’t tell me anything. But they sure wanted to know where I’d stashed you. It pissed the fuckers off when I wouldn’t tell them.”

Matt laughed bitterly. “Eventually, they’ll figure out I no longer live at the address listed in my personnel file. That won’t stump them forever. Soon, they’ll do a property search and find this place. For now, though, I’m keeping them in the dark.” He rested a hand on her shoulder. “If I don’t know everything there is to know about what’s going on, I can’t protect you. The time for secrecy is over. Understand?”

She sucked in a deep breath, her entire body trembling. The urge to take her in his arms and kiss away her fears blasted him from out of nowhere. Fighting that instinct, he straightened and stepped back. If he didn’t put some space between them, he might very well lose the battle going on in his head and do something stupid. Like kiss her again.

“You okay?” he asked, gentling his tone.

Nodding, she swiped at the tears on her face and began typing. Matt stood over her shoulder, watching her fingers fly across the keyboard. Less than a minute passed, then she pushed the chair back so he could read what she’d typed.

Karakurt: He is not who he says he is.

White: If this comes out, it will ruin everything. Who made the discovery?

Banks: A reporter. Thomas George.

White: Does anyone else know?

Karakurt: Aside from our own people, none.

White: He must be stopped before this information is released to the public.

Banks: Understood. Although, other matters are moving forward. I leave for Iqaluit in an hour.

Karakurt: I’ll take care of it.

White: Good. Report in when—”

“That’s it?” He raised his brows.

She nodded. “Word for word. Photographic memory, remember?”