Page 67

If not for the random pieces of broken glass on the walkway, she’d take off the shoes and walk barefoot.

Wobbling like a baby giraffe, Piper wondered why her ego had gotten in the way of accepting a ride.

Most days she would have, especially because she wanted to get to know Ethan—had felt a gravitational pull toward him ever since the hallway.

He was an attractive man with an excellent build, but in Piper’s mind that was icing on the cake. The real draw was that he was clearly intelligent, and he carried with him a sense of calm and safety.

Piper wanted to push her way into that bubble to rest.

As she walked along, Piper knew that if she turned around, he’d have his eyes on her.

And if she gave him a signal, he’d rally to her aid.

It was a strange sensation, trying on the mindset of a damsel in need of saving.

Piper decided she didn’t like it. That wasn’t her.

She hefted the purse up on her shoulder and hated the weight. If it weren’t against the law, she’d take the fake award and heave it into the Potomac.

Piper even veered toward the handrail and looked over; it wasn’t as far down as she’d thought. Maybe thirty feet. Once she’d gone to swim laps at a pool where Olympic divers trained. She’d climbed all the way to the top of the high dive and shuffled precariously, arms outstretched for balance, to the end to look down and imagine the bravery it would take for a diver to leap into the air and perform tricks while plunging into the water, trying not to make a splash.

Unfathomable.

Now that she’d made it all the way to the center of the bridge, the wind had really kicked up. It yanked at her clothes and whipped her hair across her face. On the way over, she’d been worried about keeping herself neat. Now? She was more interested in being able to see.

She did a quick braid.

As Piper shoved her hair down the back of her dress, a van rolled to a stop just ahead of her and seemed to wait.

Piper wondered if that might be Ethan come to save her bleeding feet.

Chapter Nineteen

Ethan

Ethan stood in front of Le Canard Frou-Frou, wishing he wasn’t on duty while he spoke with Piper, so he could offer her his number.

Anyone who was a good enough sport to wear a dress like that—surely, it wasn’t her idea—probably had a good sense of humor.

An Alabaster limo moved forward with traffic, then eased over to the curb in front of Frou-Frou.

Winston had come back.

Ethan stepped over and opened the door to save the chauffeur the effort.

“Oh, yes, hello. Thank you,” Winston said, sliding his hips around and gripping at the frame to heft his way out. “Wait here, you,” he said to the driver, though it was clearly illegal. “I must speak to the hostess while I think of my idea.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jack held open the restaurant door for him, then moved over to stand with Ethan.

He had seen the last of the Iniquus protectees safely into their limos, heading to their hotels where Strike Force team members would take over the security duties for the rest of the day.

Beside Ethan, Tango stepped forward. Her gaze honed, her muscles bunched, she stared down the bridge.

Ethan pulled his monocular from his pocket, and there was Piper, toddling painfully on her high heels.

Ethan had ended up carrying his fair share of dates back to the car once they started walking that way.