you always this positive?”
“It’s a gift.”
Beth Greenwood didn’t look like someone who’d launder money for terrorists, but what did he know? His midwestern childhood had been poor training for covert military ops. Everyone lied. Four years ago, his brother had trusted the wrong person, and that one mistake had cost his life. The loss had devastated their entire family. His sister-in-law and his nephew had suffered the worst. When Corbin had followed in his brother’s footsteps and joined covert ops to settle the score, he’d kept the truth from his family. They’d been through too much already.
His parents didn’t know what he did for a living now, or what he’d done in the army. They thought he was a desk jockey, and he let them believe the lie. He didn’t want them to worry. After seeing what his sister-in-law was going through, raising a child alone, he’d known he had to choose between having a family and having this profession. He’d called off his engagement to his high school sweetheart. He’d chosen the job.
“I c-can’t seem to stop s-shaking for some reason,” Beth stuttered.
He tamped down a wave of sympathy for his frightened passenger. His personal life and his work life never mixed. Never. He existed in two different worlds. When he was with his family, the job didn’t exist. When he was on the job, everyone else was an enemy. His ex had complained he kept too much hidden. She’d taken his secrecy personally. She’d never understood that it was all part of the job.
“It’s the adrenaline.” He slipped out of his jacket. “Take deep breaths and focus on a pleasant memory.”
“Like what?” Beth asked. “I can’t think of anything.”
Her chest rose and fell in an uneven cadence. The sight of her bare foot, the painted toenails curled against the cold, tugged at something in his chest. She was going to hyperventilate soon.
“What was your favorite hobby as a kid?” he asked, an emotion he didn’t want to identify spreading through him.
He didn’t want to like her. He didn’t want to feel sorry for her. This was a job, and in this job, the risk of betrayal was the difference between life and death.
“Horseback riding.” She covered her mouth with her free hand, her words muffled. “I loved horseback riding.”
She hesitated a moment before lowering the pepper spray. As she reluctantly accepted his coat, his fingers brushed against the silk of her blouse. The rumble of the car engine and the steady patter of rain faded into the void.
“That’s a good memory,” he said. “Think about that.”
“Sometimes we’d take drives on Sunday,” Beth’s voice grew quiet, and her eyes focused on something beyond the rain-dotted windshield. “I’d pretend I owned a horse, and my dad was taking me to the stables.” Her breathing had slowed, and her vacant gaze drifted over him. “We didn’t have the money. It was just a way of pretending. You know, how kids do sometimes?”
“Sure,” he said. “What about your mother?”
“She died when I was six. Car accident. I don’t remember much of her. Just impressions.”
He’d only known Beth for two weeks, but he’d become familiar with her routine. He recognized the floral scent of her perfume and the steady cadence of her walk when she passed his office. He didn’t know why she fascinated him, and he didn’t like the feeling. Not one bit. Feelings had a way of making a person distracted and weak.
She wrapped her arms around her body and chafed her upper arms. “Take me back downtown.”
“I live near here.” He stalled. “I need to stop by my house. Then I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”
There was a bullet hole in the hood of his car, and the woman sitting next to him had become a liability to a terrorist cell laundering money. He didn’t know the extent of her knowledge, and he wasn’t letting her out of his sight.
She raised the canister once more. “All right. But I have the pepper spray, remember?”
“I’m not likely to forget.” That stuff was potent. Residue had both their eyes watering in the confined space of the car. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I did save your life. A simple ‘thank you’ would suffice.”
He considered his original cover story. Considering the shock she’d had, he doubted she’d read too much into his earlier conversation. The less she knew at this point the better. He had a greater chance of inspiring her confidence if she didn’t see him as a threat.
“I’m sorry.” She ducked her head. “But I don’t trust anyone from Quetech Industries right now.”
“Why not?”
“I have my reasons.” She swiped the back of her hand across her forehead. “Are you former military? I heard rumors.”
“I served.”
“I haven’t done anything wrong. I promise you that.”
“Sure.” He blinked rapidly against the sting of the toxic spray. “Don’t rub your eyes, it will only make them worse.”
He shifted into gear and pulled out of the parking lot. His rental house sat at the end of a cul-de-sac populated by nondescript houses in a bedroom community. The previous occupants had been college kids, and his neighbors preferred having a quiet, single man next door instead of a noisy frat house. Keeping a low profile had been difficult with the welcoming bandwagon of visitors and casseroles.
He parked in the drive and left the engine running. He glanced at Beth’s shivering frame and cranked the heater.
“I’ll be right back,” he said.
“Okay.” Her complexion ashen, she clutched the passenger door handle as though she might leap out of the car at any moment. “Please don’t take long.”
She was terrified, that much of her story he believed. Were they blackmailing her? Somehow that was easier to swallow—picturing her as the innocent victim. What did it matter? That sort of thinking got people killed. He had a mission to accomplish. This wasn’t the time to go soft.
“I’ll be quick,” he said.
A little time alone gave her a chance to stew over her present circumstances. Given the current technology, even if she stole his car, she wouldn’t get far. Without transportation, she was at a considerable disadvantage. It was cold and raining, and she was in a strange neighborhood. There was no place to hide.
He took the shallow porch stairs two at a time and punched his security code into the panel. Once inside, he quickly unlocked his safe and retrieved his Glock. He strapped the holster around his shoulders.
Glancing outside, he caught sight of Beth’s silhouette shimmering in the rain against the soft glow of the streetlight. If she finally decided to call the police, he’d deal with the interference. The police tended to be battering rams when he needed finesse, but at this point, he didn’t have much choice.
Keeping vigil before the window, the lights doused to prevent glare, he retrieved his phone from his pocket
