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“That’s more than they told me.”
Shane’s smile held a trace of cynicism. “A US senator has a little more clout than an investigative reporter. Even with the power of your network behind you.”
“Okay, so we rule out jealousy. Do you have any enemies that you know of?”
He shook his head. “Not to my knowledge. It could be someone who disagrees with my politics, I suppose,” he said doubtfully. “Or someone with a mental problem,” he added.
Carly ran a finger over her bottom teeth as she considered this possibility. “Maybe. But again, the attacks on you are too well thought out. Too meticulous. I could buy that the first attempt was a crazy with a rifle—anyone who could get their hands on a gun could take shots at you. But the bombs? Uh-uh.” She shook her head vehemently. “Building and planting a bomb is a specialized skill, just as disarming them is. I knew this guy when I was covering the war in Afghanistan—a sergeant—who used to disarm roadside bombs. It was fascinating, and I wanted to do a piece on him,” she said as an aside, “but he flat out refused.
“Anyway,” she continued, “he told me it’s not all that difficult to learn how to build a bomb, and you’d be surprised how relatively easy it is to acquire the component parts. But building a bomb safely, so you don’t blow yourself up in the process, isn’t as easy as you’d think. So whoever built and planted those bombs knows what he’s doing. Which means he’s done this before. Which means he’s a professional.”
“Which means,” Shane said slowly, “he’s a hit man. A hired gun.”
She nodded. “Probably. Which brings us right back to why. Why would someone hire a hit man to kill you? What does killing you accomplish?”
He hesitated. “The only thing I can think of is... No. It can’t be that.”
Carly pounced. “Can’t be what?”
“It was five years ago. And besides, last I heard, that organization was teetering on the brink of collapse.”
“What organization?”
He bent a hard stare on her. “I can’t tell you as a reporter. Only as—”
“Someone you’re sleeping with?” she tossed off with forced insouciance.
He stood abruptly. “Don’t.” His voice was low but there was an angry edge that had come out of nowhere. “Don’t be flippant about what’s between us, Carly. Okay, I get you don’t want to be emotionally involved. I get that. And I’m doing my best to do as you ask. But don’t treat it as casual sex. Because I don’t do casual sex. I haven’t for a long, long time.”
With that he stalked out.
Carly followed Shane and found him in the kitchen pulling a bottle of water from the fridge. He half emptied it in one long gulp, then turned when she said his name.
“I don’t do casual sex, either,” she admitted. Knowing what else she was admitting to.
“I know you don’t.”
She tilted her head to one side as she considered this. “Then why did you agree?”
He took another long swig of water before answering. “Because you’d backed yourself into a corner last night. And no,” he assured her, “I wasn’t humoring you. At least, not in a condescending way. I wanted to give you space. Well,” he amended, smiling a little, “not physical space. Because this thing we’ve got going? I don’t see that burning out anytime soon. I wanted in your bed in the worst way. And you wanted me there, too.”
Carly flushed at the wicked light in his eyes.
“We’re not kids,” he said, finishing off the bottle and dumping it in the recycle bin. “Although around you I feel like one sometimes.” He tugged her gently into his embrace and kissed her forehead. “That’s why I agreed. Because I’ll take whatever part of you I can get. Even if it’s ‘just sex.’”
“You’re making me feel... I don’t know. Silly, I guess. And guilty.” His arms tightened around her infinitesimally, but she felt it. “I wasn’t using you, Shane. Honest. But I’ve never experienced some of the things you make me feel when we... That is, when we’re in bed together I can’t think of anything else except the next time.” Her voice dropped a notch. “I didn’t want to give that up.”
