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You’re a grown up, Eva. Act like it.
“You, umm, mentioned his name when you did carry out breakfast at the Midnight Rooster. Strangers get noticed,” he added.
There was that word again.Stranger. The one that made it clear she didn’t fit in here. She couldn’t deny being ridiculously flattered he’d noticed her and somewhat ashamed of herself that she hadn’t reallyseenhim until later in the investigation. Of course she knew about him, along with the rest of Sheriff Cochran’s staff, having run the background checks at Ross’s request. But she hadn’tnoticedhim until the day she’d been shot.
To be accurate, it had been the day after the shooting. He’d driven her from the hospital to her motel room to recuperate. She’d wanted to be alone, but the community wouldn’t put up with that. Someone had stopped by every day for the first week and every couple of days after that, until she finally pre-empted the visits by going to the Rooster on her own.
“How long has Ross had you tailing me?”Was that a blush creeping into his face?
“Not as long as you think. We were all happy to help while you were recuperating. You saved Allie.”
“Okay, okay,” she held up her hands. “I’ll back off that topic. It’s just weird. I don’t like the thought of people hovering and pampering. There’s a reason I’m not going home for the holidays.”
He laughed again, softly, but it was no less effective. “We’re lucky none of Ruth’s neighbors have been by with a ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ pie or casserole.”
“They would do that?” She rubbed at her shoulder. “It’s not like I’m really moving in.”
“In a heartbeat. If only to get a read on what we’re doing here together.” He pushed a hand through his hair.
She dragged her gaze away from the movement and hauled her thoughts away from how it would feel to touch him.Think of Shannon. She flirted, teased occasionally, but she never poached. As much as she hated it, this man was off limits.
It was a welcome relief when her email pinged a new message. She leaned forward, mentally crossing her fingers it was the file Nichols promised her.
“You seem pretty happy with the FBI set up.”
“It’s sweet,” she confessed without thinking. “Please don’t tell Nichols I said that. I knew they had cool stuff, I just didn’t know how cool.”
“Why do you hate him?”
“Hate is a strong word.” She sighed. “It boils down to having different philosophies.”
“Got it. He strikes me as a rules guy.”
“And I don’t strike you as a rules girl?”
His half grin did terrible things to her equilibrium. She turned her attention back to the monitor and clicked to download the file. “Rules are fine,” she said at last. “I wouldn’t have made it in the Army if I couldn’t follow rules. Maybe it’s more accurate to think of Nichols as a good agent who hates my methods.”
“What are your methods?”
“Pretty straight forward. I do everything in my power to get the job done.” She cut him a glance from under her lashes. “And I know how to uncover the things people most want to hide.”
Chapter 6
InaNewYorkCity penthouse, Bakr Morcos sipped warm brandy while waiting for word on the woman he hunted. As he’d expected since his opening move, her handlers had closed ranks to protect her. It would be a pleasure to dispense with them one by one. The first to fall were hardly worth the time, the price a mere necessity for setting the stage.
Outside, snow fell gently on Central Park, but his gaze was locked on the antique chess set on the low table in front of the fireplace. Hand-carved from camel bone, it had been in his family for generations and, though it was cumbersome, he rarely traveled without it.
The pieces gleamed in the leaping firelight. He plucked the black queen from the board and held her carefully in his palm. Like the dark queen he hunted, the fire was greedy and passionate, all too eager to act without regard for the result.
Theirs was a delicate game of strategy, made all the more intriguing because he didn’t know what to expect from her. Reports could state her skills in the most clinical manner, but gave no true insight. Tapes from the night his nephew died were his only indication of how she behaved in a crisis. He would have to react as she did, yet stay within the confines of his goal.
He swirled the brandy, picturing her lovely face pale and contorted with pain when she realized everything she loved was cinders—burned by her own choices.
So close. These final moves would play out and then he wouldn’t have to imagine anymore. The queen would be at his feet, begging him to kill her.
Winner takes all.
Chapter 7
