good to you.”
An edgy adrenaline rush pumped through her veins, a rush she hadn’t felt since the last time she’d worked for the agency. “Things won’t go south,” she said with a touch of bravado. “But if they do I can take care of myself.”
For a moment their gazes remained locked, their past a haunting specter between them. She broke the eye contact. “I can take care of myself,” she repeated.
“Then we proceed with the plan.” He pulled a set of keys from his pocket. “This is the key to your new set of wheels.”
“I don’t suppose it just happens to be a Jaguar.” She already knew it was that crappy old blue car in the parking space in front of her motel unit.
“Dream on. It’s a ten-year-old Ford Escort with a hundred forty-five thousand miles on it.”
“Des Moines, Iowa plates?” she asked, even though she knew it was a dumb question. Of course SPACE would see to it that every aspect of her new identity held up.
Kane nodded. “Licensed and tagged to Jessica Sinclair.” He held up the next key on the ring. “The key to your apartment. You already know the address from the file. This third key is to a safe house. I’m staying there. It’s a fifteen-minute drive from the safe house to your apartment. I can make it in seven.”
“You must not be driving a ten-year-old Escort,” she said dryly.
“I’ve got news for you. Not only are you driving an old clunker car, your new apartment isn’t exactly the Ritz, either.”
“Somehow I figured as much,” she replied and once again reached for her coffee cup.
Kane pulled a small spiral notebook from the breast pocket of his navy shirt. He ripped off the top sheet of paper and handed it to her. “This is the address to the safe house. Memorize it.”
She took the paper from him and looked at it: 7207N. Oak. The safe house was only a couple of miles from her home address. Home. She hoped her neighbor wouldn’t do anything to her property before she got back to her home base.
She gave the paper back to him and watched as he placed it in the ashtray then struck a match and lit it on fire.
“A bit dramatic, don’t you think?” she asked as flame transformed the paper into ash.
He grinned, the first full grin she’d seen from him. “You know I love this covert stuff.”
She laughed, unable to help herself. The grogginess that she’d awakened with was gone, swallowed by the rush of anticipation. Although she would never admit it to Kane, she still loved “this covert stuff.”
“You start your waitress job at Night Life at eight tonight.”
“Don’t remind me,” she groaned. “Nothing Adam Mercer can throw my way can possibly be more dangerous than me trying to juggle a tray full of drinks and serve them to patrons. It’s been years since I did any waitressing.”
“You’ll be fine,” he assured her, then stood. “You can leave here whenever you’re ready.” She stood as well. “You have the cell phone to get in touch with me if necessary.”
She nodded and walked with him to the door. Once there he turned to face her once again. “Take care, Cassie. We don’t know for sure what Adam Mercer is capable of, but we do know that nobody has seen his last girlfriend for a little over a month.”
“Nice of you to leave that little tidbit of information until now. Why wasn’t that in the files?”
“We were hoping to locate her whereabouts before we handed the file over to you. But so far that hasn’t happened. I just want you to remember that Adam Mercer is a crazy man on a mission and that makes him dangerous. Get in, get the information we need and get out.”
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