Shadow Soldier. Dana Marton

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have to say.”

      “As I told you before, I’m here for your protection.”

      “I’d like to know your full name.”

      “Why?”

      Good question. To make her feel better? As a reassurance that he and all this was real and she hadn’t somehow crossed over into the twilight zone? “Please.”

      He watched her for a moment. “I can’t.”

      At least he hadn’t said, If I told you, I’d have to kill you. “Have you been following me long?”

      “Two months or so.”

      Of course. That was about how long he’d been coming to the gym. “Must have been convenient to get a nice workout and keep an eye on me at the same time.” She took a deep breath. “I want to know why.”

      He leaned against the waist-high counter that separated the living room from a modern and well-equipped kitchen. “We came across intelligence that a U.S. senator and his family might be the target of a terrorist attack. Further investigation picked up your father’s name.”

      Concern leaped in her chest. “Is he okay? Was he attacked?”

      He shook his head. “He’s being watched 24/7. Any ideas why you’d be a target?”

      The word target had that cold-knife-in-the-chest feel to it. She rubbed her solar plexus. “Not really. I’d assume it has to do with his position on some hot-button issue. There are always fanatics out there. Did he vote on anything controversial lately? I don’t follow his career.” She wasn’t about to apologize for it or explain further.

      “We believe the threat is international.”

      “China?”

      He nodded. “Did he make any enemies while he was there? Anything you remember could be useful.”

      “He wasn’t a popular ambassador.” Or rather, the U.S. had been unpopular at the time due to its protective edicts on Taiwan. Her father had been merely the messenger. She swallowed. Wasn’t there a saying about shooting the messenger? “He could probably give you more information. I was too young at the time to pay much attention.”

      “I’m sure he already filled in the case investigators.”

      She blinked as her brain raced to catch up. Investigators. Right. There’d be those. And God knows what else. Probably press. If there was one thing she hated, it was the media, but under the circumstances that would hardly be avoidable. The events of the morning played in her head in a never-ending loop. “How long do you think I’d have to stay here?”

      “Until the shooter is dead or in custody and we figure out whether there are others involved. But even if there are, I don’t think another attack is likely. They rarely try to hit the same target twice.”

      “I vote for that.”

      He fiddled with the window locks. “In general, terrorists make their point by sowing terror, disrupting people’s lives. Sometimes they use the media attention to promote their cause. Whether or not the target dies is almost irrelevant.”

      “How nice.” Good to know there were distinct guidelines to the business.

      “Except, of course, for large-scale hits where the magnitude of damage is what they’re after and body count is more important. Individual cases like yours tend to be either warnings or revenge related.” His expression was sober, his eyes assessing every inch of the room while they talked.

      “So which one do you think this is?”

      He considered for a second. “Warning. I’m guessing you haven’t done much in China that would call for revenge. Your father maybe, but then they’d be going after him. By targeting you, I think they’re trying to send him a message.”

      “To vote one way or the other on some issue of Chinese interest?”

      “Possibly. I’d say they’re done with you now.”

      She knew he was lying from the way he wouldn’t look at her. Probably standard procedure to say something like this to calm down the people being protected—made things easier on him if she didn’t become hysterical.

      “Great.” She could stay under house arrest or risk walking into another hail of bullets as soon as she left. Lovely choices. Alex was right about the “interrupting people’s life” part. She was a business owner. How many clients would she lose if she didn’t turn up at scheduled meetings and didn’t return phone calls for a week? Her business, assisting reputable Asian companies to break into U.S. markets, was her livelihood. Even if the terrorists didn’t come back for her, they could ruin her by simply forcing her into extended hiding.

      “Maybe it’s not about my father. What if it’s related to one of my clients? An unsatisfied customer?” Although, for the life of her she couldn’t think of one.

      “I don’t think so.”

      “How can you be sure?”

      “I checked them all out. Thoroughly. And the ‘chatter’ we came across distinctly indicated the senator.”

      He had checked out her clients. Without her consent. She tried not to get upset over that. The man was following orders—probably her father’s. And she had to hand it to him, he seemed competent at his job. As much as she hated this whole situation, she was glad she had him on her side. “Am I allowed to get in contact with anyone while I’m here? Can I use the phone?”

      “I’d prefer if you didn’t make any calls from this location.” He moved from window to window like a black shadow as he checked out the front yard.

      Staying here in isolation was going to cost her. Big-time. She was supposed to sign the deal of her career on Monday. She had put six months worth of work into convincing CEO Du Shaozu that she was the right consultant to help him bring his innovative game software to the States.

      “If you’re worried about your business, I might be able to get someone to cancel your appointments as long as you can provide names and phone numbers.”

      “You could?” His understanding caught her off guard. “Only one that’s urgent. I have a meeting first thing Monday morning. It should be canceled today—nobody will be in their offices over the weekend. I don’t know the number by heart.” But maybe whoever was going to call could look it up. “The name is Du Shaozu at Du Enterprises.”

      “Right.” He nodded, and she had the feeling he knew a lot more about her than he let on. “Anyone else?”

      “A half-dozen meetings that I can think of off the top of my head and a few phone conferences.”

      “Anyone else from China?”

      “Several. I’m an international commerce consultant specializing in the Far East. Look, I don’t want my clients to be harassed.”

      “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

      “And there are a couple of friends and my neighbors. They’ll definitely notice

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