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“Watch my back.” He chuckled softly. “As if I wasn’t already.”
She shook her head at him. “I don’t know how you can laugh at something as serious as this.”
He didn’t answer right away. Just glanced at her, then back at the road. “I was a US Marine for a lot of years, Carly,” he finally explained. “You don’t get—I guess complacent is the word—you don’t get complacent about death, but you can’t stress over it, either. You have to laugh whenever you can, ’cause otherwise you’d be a basket case. Gallows humor, maybe. But you have to see the humor in everything to stay sane and sharp. You should know—you were an embedded reporter in Afghanistan.”
“Yes, but...” She started to say it was different when someone you loved was in danger. Humor was the last thing on your mind then. But she stopped herself before she could say it, because she wasn’t ready to let him know he’d slipped under her defenses. She wasn’t her sister, Tahra—old-fashioned enough to think a man should speak first—but she wasn’t sure exactly what Shane was feeling. It was one thing for him to insist he didn’t do casual sex, that he had to care about a woman in order to make love to her. But that was a long way from love. And until she knew...she wasn’t going to put her heart out there. Not to mention she wasn’t going to put that burden on Shane, as if she was pressuring him to return her feelings by telling him how she felt.
She sighed again. At least she was with Shane. At least she could guard his back. She turned to look at him, and that’s when she realized something was wrong. Shane’s whole body language had changed.
“We’re being followed,” he told her quietly. “No! Don’t turn around. I don’t want him to know he’s been tagged. Not yet.”
Carly stopped herself from looking backward, but it was an effort. She tried to peer into the side mirror, to see if she could spot what Shane was seeing, but the angle was all wrong. “How do you know?” She was proud her voice didn’t waver.
“Trust me, I know. He’s two cars back at the moment, but now that I think of it, he’s been there since I left my office. He’s good. Really good. He doesn’t ride my tail, and he varies how many cars are between us. But he’s there.”
“Could it be the FBI?” she asked. “Or the agency?”
“Maybe.” Shane smiled grimly. “But I doubt it. It’s not a government car or a federal license plate number. But I’m going to find out for sure—one way or the other.” He fished his smartphone out of his pocket and hit one number for speed dial. Steering with his left hand and holding his phone with his right, which he also needed to shift gears, told Carly just how dangerous Shane thought their situation was. He spoke into the phone without identifying himself. “I need a huge favor. I need a Virginia plate number run on an older model white Chevy truck. XKF dash...” He reeled off three numbers, then said, “The last number could be either a three or an eight. It’s already dark, the plate was dirty and I only saw it for a second.” He laughed softly in response to something said on the phone, and agreed, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m losing my touch. My eyes aren’t what they used to be, my hearing is going and I’ve got one foot in the grave. Forget that crap and run that number, okay? If it’s who I think it is, the plate could be stolen, but on the off chance it’s not...” He nodded, even though his listener couldn’t see him. “Right.”
The person on the other end of the phone must have asked a question, because Shane said, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure my tail isn’t from the FBI or the agency. Or any other kind of law enforcement. I’m a minute away from ditching whoever’s back there, but it’d be nice to know for the future if the feds are following me. The FBI told me they couldn’t spare the manpower, which is why—right again. Call me when you know something.”
Shane disconnected, then dropped his phone into one of the empty cup holders between their seats, and replaced his hand on the gear shift. “Hang on tight,” he warned Carly. “I’m going to lose this tail.”
