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“In some ways, yes. This whole situation is crazy. I kind of can’t figure out why you haven’t just left me to fend for my own devices. That’s what anyone else would do, isn’t it? Am I just bait or something?” Her tone held all the emotion of someone trying to be confrontational and tough, but the quiver in her voice betrayed the hurt and fear there.
A fierce protectiveness rose up within him. ‘It doesn’t matter what some other team would do. I’m the one in charge here, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you. And you’re definitely not bait,” he added with a growl. The fact that she thought it was a possibility made him angry at the people in her life who had treated her with such disregard.
She looked slightly mollified by his words, and Will couldn't resist the urge to reach out and set his hand on her arm. The touch carried a shockwave of attraction.
Immediately, he pulled his hand away, afraid of the power of that connection. A hint of disappointment flashed on her face, but he dismissed his desire to reassure her. She was a witness. An asset to protect, no matter how much the vulnerability in her expression and her positive resiliency made him curious to know more.
“I need to work out a plan. Tank and Pierce should be back soon. You can watch TV or whatever.”
She gave a curt nod and picked up the remote, settling against the white pillows at the end of the bed.
Will stood up and went back to the temporary command station setup and began to brainstorm. He was pretty sure Darkshade had no way to find them here, but it paid to be careful. The mysterious assassin was dangerous enough on his own, but with the resources of the Syndicate behind him? He’d be unstoppable.
No. Not unstoppable. He couldn’t be.
Will was going to stop him. Melanie’s life depended on it.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Hannah had nearly admittedher true identity to Will a half dozen times since last night. But the instant she turned on the news and saw the tension ripple across his broad shoulders at the sound of the reporters, she second-guessed herself again.
She hated lying to him. That wasn’t who she was. She believed in honesty and integrity. But she was also terrified that Will would shut down and lock her out if he had any idea she was a reporter—or an aspiring one anyway. She could hardly consider the clickbait articles she wrote for BuzzNews to be journalism. Mostly she scraped message boards for funny stories and reposted them.
Where was the integrity or pride to be found in that? Not like Sharon, the journalist who’d uncovered a drug ring dealing contaminated narcotics and put Jeremiah behind bars. And not like Will or Tank or Pierce. They were doing things that mattered. Protecting people and rescuing kidnapping victims. The admiration she’d felt when he told her about their work had surprised her.
There was something magnetic about Will’s steadfast dedication to the mission at hand—and to his team. She’d noticed the way he looked out for them and made the group cohesive. And the way she’d felt when he’d touched her…
No. That was crazy. He was much older than her, and unlike Hannah, his life wasn’t crumbling to pieces. At least, not that she could tell. He didn’t wear a wedding ring, but maybe they took them off for their operations. Like an anonymity thing.
He hadn’t mentioned a family, though the southern drawl that sometimes snuck out in his voice made her imagine somewhere he had a momma who made sweet tea and worried about her little boy when he signed up to join the military.
No, broken, abusive families like hers didn’t often produce honorable men like Will Gilbert.
Whatever crazy hero crush she had on the handsome operative with the steel-blue eyes had to be ignored. She didn’t need a hero. Hannah had always taken care of herself.
She’d become a Christian after Jeremiah had been arrested, and it was what had finally convinced her to untangle herself from the guilt she felt about her mom’s choices enough to go her own way. She had longed for the freedom that Christ offered. She had that freedom now, even though her life wasn’t perfect. She just desperately wished her mother could find it too.
No, Hannah was fine on her own. As much as she trusted Will to protect her, she couldn’t trust that he’d put his obvious disdain for journalists aside. He didn’t owe her anything, and it was probably only a matter of time before he realized that she was dead weight.
Until then, Hannah needed to keep her emotions locked tighter than a jar of pickles. She was going to observe and try to remember everything that was happening so she could tell the story later. Maybe she should start taking notes. She didn’t have a notebook though, and it didn’t seem like she was getting her computer back any time soon, since Will had put it in a shipping box and sealed it shut. Tank and Pierce had run out to ship it and grab some more supplies before they headed to the safe house.
“Hey, Will?”
He didn’t answer, but grunted an acknowledgement.
“Do you think I could get a notebook or something?”
“What for?”
Shoot. She scrambled, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation. “It’s just been a crazy couple of days, and I like to journal to process my emotions. I thought it might help calm me down a bit.” There, that wasn’t a lie. She likely would use the notebook to write and pray about all the things she was feeling. And if she happened to also use it to keep track of a timeline of events and conversations she overheard, then that was just a bonus.
Despite her rationalization, she felt the twinge of guilt at the half-lie she was feeding him.
Will looked around the room and flipped through a bag, finally pulling out a small black notebook.
He thumbed the pages, ripped one out, and then tossed it to her.
“I’ve written on a couple, but it’s mostly empty. I can never seem to find my notebooks when I need one and end up starting fresh.”
