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He turned back to the bar and briefly met the man’s gaze in the mirror before the guy took a long drink from a pint of beer. “No way. She’d freak.”
The man shrugged. “If you really want her, do you have anything to lose?”
That was the question, wasn’t it? Not the “nothing to lose” bit. The “if you really want her” part.
Did he?
It was a one-night stand. Hell, it hadn’t even lasted a whole night. It was better that way, this first foray into dating now that he was single again. It had been fun, but now it was over.
The bartender returned with his card. He added the tip and signed the slip. He wished the guy at the bar a good evening and left.
Cold air slapped him in the face as he stepped out onto the sidewalk. Cars inched along the busy street. Rush hour on Friday lived up to expectations. The sun would be setting soon, and he’d learned twilight was short here. It would be full dark before he reached his hotel.
He claimed his vehicle from the parking garage across the street and set out, wishing Diana had at least taken him up on his offer for a ride home. He was glad to see her in the walking boot, but her ankle had to be aching after the unaccustomed use.
His mind circled back to another question. The one that had started the drama and ended what had to that point been a spectacular date. Had she seen Rafiq in Jordan?
He was certain she believed it—the suspicion that she’d made it up for some unknown agenda had never rung true for him anyway.
He couldn’t dispute her claim of recognizing him after only seeing his eyes. In the moment, he hadn’t realized how remarkable it was. But then, he’d been wearing the same gear both times she’d seen him, had the same build. Same voice.
Maybe it wasn’t so remarkable?
Had she really and truly seen Rafiq?
He couldn’t speak to anything with certainty except that she believed it. And she was continuing to risk everything for that belief.
Extradition and prosecution for looting…surely the State Department wouldn’t fold to that demand?
But then, the secretary of state had the difficult job of making amends to the Kingdom after the US military ran two unsanctioned ops in their sovereign land. The second op had taken place on the outskirts of a major city and involved damage to privately owned buildings.
Dr. Diana Edwards had not only caused an international incident, she’d chosen that path in working for FMV.
This wasn’t victim blaming. Even Diana was aware of the decisions she’d made that put her in that market.
Not that any of it mattered to him at this point. He’d done what he could for her in identifying Jamal and Bassam from the photos Lange had shown him. Diana had made it clear she didn’t want his help.
There was no reason for him to stay in the city any longer. He could pick up his bags from the hotel and head south to Little Creek tonight. It was only about a three-and-a-half-hour drive. Tomorrow, he could catch a flight to Seattle.
Two weeks of leave stretched out before him.
The first raindrops hit his windshield as he drove down 7th Street, where it split the National Mall. Tourists scurried to take refuge in the Air and Space Museum. He’d planned to take in museums this weekend, but he could do that another time. Little Creek and DC weren’t that far apart. But given the rain, he’d head south in the morning. Catch a flight to Seattle, Sunday or Monday.
Decided, he parked in the underground garage and then walked a block to a restaurant he’d enjoyed earlier in the week and got the surf and turf takeout.
Twenty minutes later, he was on the floor of his hotel, heading down the long hallway. He came to a stunned stop when he spotted a drenched Diana sitting on the floor, leaning against the door to his room.
Chris loomed over her. His expression wasn’t friendly nor was it cold. Not smiling, not scowling. She could only see what it wasn’t, which gave no clue to his thoughts. He looked handsome and imposing as he waited for her to speak.
She nodded toward the brown paper bag in his right hand. “Smells good.”
One side of his mouth lifted in the slightest of smiles. He offered her his left hand. “If I’d known you wanted dinner, I’d have gotten enough for two.”
She grasped his hand with her left while positioning the cane with her right and rose to her foot. Her ankle was sore, and she leaned against the door to keep all her weight on the left foot.
“Don’t worry. I won’t ask you to share. I just need to use your phone, then I’ll be on my way.”
His brow furrowed. “You took, what, two trains and walked a few blocks in the rain just to borrow my phone?”
