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“Have you ever interacted with the subject of an op after it was over?”
“No. Usually when we liberate a hostage, they’re whisked away on a separate helicopter and never know who was involved in their exfiltration.”
“So perhaps this was different for you too. And you had to rescue me twice.”
“Yes. You were in my head.”
“And I took advantage of that.”
He narrowed his gaze, but gave her a nod. “I’m part of this now, Diana. I know you’re angry with me, but don’t let that influence your decision to let me help you.”
“What, exactly, can you do? Can you find Rafiq? Can you convince the Pentagon I saw him? No. There’s nothing you can do to help me that won’t blow back on you.” She finished her drink, gathered her crutches and cane, then stood. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m afraid I have to decline.”
“At least let me drive you home.”
She stared for a long time into his eyes. Deep down, she knew she could forgive him. Hell, she probably already had. But she couldn’t bring him down with her sinking ship and didn’t want to start to rely on him.
She needed to take the scary Metro and do all the things that frightened her on her own. Because if she had to go on the run to avoid extradition, she needed to be able to do it alone.
“Thank you for the drink.” She left the bar and hotel and headed toward the Metro.
The wind had kicked up again as the day edged toward sunset. She entered the station almost in a daze as she pondered the events of the last twenty-four hours.
As she rode the long escalator down, she realized she’d never found out why Chris had been at FMV. Morgan would probably tell her. Freya almost certainly would not.
She needed to tell both women about the interview by Ian Boyd, and Gardner blindsiding her with questions about Rafiq.
The train pulled up within a minute of her arrival. The platform was thick with people at rush hour on Friday. She inched inside with the others, squeezing into a standing-room-only car. She braced herself against the vertical handrail closest to the door. She leaned her head against the metal pole and took a deep breath as she tried to process all the emotions she’d left back in the bar with Chris.
It was better this way. She didn’t have room for messy entanglements. Her life was a wreck.
Gaze unfocused, she breathed deeply one more time, as if that could expel Chris from her mind. The doors tried to close multiple times, thwarted by bodies blocking the opening. At last, it was sorted with Diana pressed tight between an Asian woman and the short panel by the door. She gazed through the window to the platform and there, just on the other side of the glass, was Jamal, staring directly at her.
He drew a line across his throat as the train pulled out of the station.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chris watched her leave the bar, making no move to follow even though he wanted to. It was his nature and training to protect her. But aside from the fact she didn’t want his protection, there was the small detail that he couldn’t protect her from herself.
Once he was certain she’d be halfway to the Metro station, he rose from his seat and went to the bar to ask for the check because the server was busy now that more patrons had arrived.
“Get dumped?” the lone man sitting at the bar asked as he stared down into his drink.
Chris glanced up into the mirror behind the bar and noticed the angle was such that the man had a view of the couch where he’d sat with Diana.
“Yep,” he said with a sigh.
“Too bad. She’s a pretty thing.”
Chris remembered last night, when he’d explored every inch of her. Beautiful. Sexy. Strong. Goddess of the moon, even. “You have no idea.”
The bartender produced a check, and Chris handed her a credit card. She left to run the card.
Chris turned to stare at the table where he’d sat with Diana, which was now being cleared. Removing all traces she’d been there.
“You should go after her,” the guy said. He had a slight accent. British, probably. “Aren’t women supposed to love that sort of thing?”
He had zero doubt that Diana would freak out if he tracked her down at home. He could easily get her address, but he wouldn’t do that. It was bad enough he’d shown up at the Mayflower. But at least it was a neutral place, and he’d stumbled into the information that she was here. He hadn’t asked for it.
