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She gaped at him. “Because…I…” She drew in a breath. “Because my brothers are SEALs, and I’m…I wouldn’t betray my country!”
“Neither would I,” Hudson said. He drew in a breath, his jaw tight.
He’d shed his wet jacket and stood there in a T-shirt and jeans. She’d never really seen him up close without his helmet. He stood about six foot three or four and was built like a Viking, so apropos to his team’s name. Dark-blond hair cut short, a square jaw, deep gray-blue eyes, and every inch of him hard muscle. While Tate was military built, Hudson was all honed, athletic muscle, sinewed arms, powerful triceps, and long, lean legs. No wonder he needed a larger room. He sort of took up all the space.
Now his quiet voice seemed almost out of place, but his eyes settled on hers, and that was enough to radiate his sincerity.
Okay then. “How did you end up on that bridge?”
“You first.”
“Fine. I was contacted a couple months ago by Alfonzo, who asked me to carry a package to a train station in Berlin. Said it was of national importance. I met him today to tell him I’m out when he asked me to watch you.”
“What did this guy look like?” Tate said.
She shrugged. “Black hair, tall. Had a scar over his forehead.” She drew a line over her eye to emphasize. “He said he was CIA.”
“He was, if it’s the man I think you’re talking about. He matches the description of a man named Alan Martin. He’s a rogue spy, disavowed by the CIA, but also one of VP Jackson’s masterminds. He helped her conjure up the entire plot to assassinate White, and most recently, we think was involved in another Russian plot to deploy a biological weapon in our country. Not to mention another attack on the president. Not a good guy.”
Tate was sweating, and it had her leaning forward to press her fingers to his neck.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m worried about you. Your heartbeat is a little fast.”
“Bleeding here.”
“Like I said—you need a hospital.”
He closed his eyes. “What I need is for someone to call Roy. Or Ziggy. They’ll know what to do.”
“I know Ziggy,” said Hudson. “She’s my contact and the one who passed off the jump drive.” His gaze flickered to Iris. “Oops.”
“So, you were passing off a jump drive. To Tate.” She looked at Tate. “And then what?”
Tate sighed.
“C’mon. You’re clearly in no position to go anywhere. Hudson and I will…” She glanced at Hudson. “Make the delivery.”
Hudson raised an eyebrow.
“It’s important information, Iris. My boss didn’t tell me what it is, but it’s life or death—”
“Calm down, Tate. We got this. Where were you supposed to drop this off?”
He sighed. “Paris. At Napoleon’s grave, in the Hôtel des Invalides. Tomorrow at noon.”
“We can do that.” She looked again at Hudson. “Right?”
His mouth was tight, but he nodded.
“But first, we have to make sure you stay alive. Does Glo know you’re over in Europe getting stabbed?” She had taken the washcloth from his hand and now went to the bathroom to re-wet it.
When she returned, he had his eyes closed.
She turned to Hudson. “Can you get ahold of this Ziggy person?”
“Yes. I have a texting app I can use.”
