on the top of the suitcase.
“Aren’t you efficient?” Cecelia pulled out her tablet and brought up the details about the charity gala she’d organized for the pediatric children’s oncology unit in memory of William. “There.” She highlighted the line on the screen that showed donor names, addresses and emails, and then turned it so her brother and daughter could see it. “I was told he called the office yesterday morning, asked how close we were to the goal and then donated the balance.”
“Holt?” Thomas gaped at her.
“So it is the same man?”
Her brother nodded then growled. “Looks that way. Think about it, Lia, why pick your cause?”
“Generosity? Maybe he needed a tax write-off. That happens this time of year.” She could tell her brother didn’t put much stock in either possibility. Yesterday she’d thought it was the gesture of a wealthy man more than a little smitten with the gala’s organizer. Now... Well, now he had more than a few questions to answer.
Just her luck. The first guy who managed to stir any feelings in her and he had an ulterior motive.
“This would put him right next to you tomorrow night.”
“You’re being melodramatic.” Truth was she had asked for tomorrow’s seating chart to be adjusted when she learned he would attend. She’d had every intention of getting “next to him” and thanking him personally during their first real date, scheduled for this evening. She wasn’t about to mention those plans in front of her brother and daughter.
“He might not even show up.” She wouldn’t think twice about having him tossed out if he didn’t clear up a few things tonight.
“Oh, he’ll show.” There was a calculating gleam in Thomas’s eyes. “And he’ll find a way to kidnap you. It’s the perfect venue and it would be a terrible embarrassment to me if I’m not there to protect you.”
“That’s absurd. Tomorrow’s venue is perfect for raising money for the charity. Besides, I’ll be surrounded by the trained agents and retired spies who make up our extended family all night long.”
“Then it’s a scouting mission,” Thomas argued. “I’m telling you, Holt doesn’t do anything on a whim. Every mishap of the past two months points directly to his office. This is the beginning of the grand finale. I can feel it, Lia.”
Casey gave a thoughtful hum. “Wouldn’t a guy who’s made it to the second in command at Mission Recovery be more careful than that? Sounds a little half-baked to me.”
Cecelia could have hugged her daughter. She thought the same thing, but knew Thomas wouldn’t have entertained the suggestion if she’d offered it. It wasn’t that she blamed him—he only wanted to protect her—but she was weary of being overshadowed and underestimated.
As the wife of a CIA operative, she’d learned to support and assist her husband in the real world, she had her own security clearance and even though she’d spent her career to date in the completely safe admin side of the agency, she knew how to think through a problem like an operative.
Her daughter’s and her brother’s consistent underrating of her was her own fault, she supposed. She’d let it happen by design and circumstance. They were used to her in a certain role: sister, mother, head chef, cheerleader and most recently caregiver and occasional confidant. Change was difficult, and she hadn’t discussed her plans with them; she’d just put in the request to move to ops.
She’d told herself it was to see how she fared on her own merits, but it was just as much about delaying their inevitable resistance.
“Relax, Thomas. I’m safe and I’m perfectly capable of staying that way.” She infused confidence into her voice. “You’ll both be at the event tomorrow and we’ll be surrounded by a room full of people. Go vet the hotel security staff if it makes you feel better.” She wrote down the contact name from her notes. “Your Mr. Holt can scout all he wants, but we all know he won’t be able to lift a finger against me. At least not and get away with it.”
Thomas took the note and stalked out of the house without another word.
Cecelia turned to Casey. “Well, since you’ve got everything packed, I might as well go check in at the hotel and make Thomas happy.”
“I can move there with you. Keep you company.”
Cecelia bit back the frustrated reply as she loaded the used coffee mugs into the dishwasher. “You stay here like we planned and enjoy some quiet with your new husband when he arrives.” She’d have to put this place up for sale one day, but it didn’t have to be today. The place was just too large for her to keep up on her own. Especially if she was away a lot.
“We came to see you, Mom.”
“And I appreciate it, sweetheart. We both know your uncle’s already assigned a detail to hover over my shoulder.” She flicked a hand in the direction of the street. “I know for a fact the Millers haven’t had a week’s worth of plumbing trouble and yet the van is still out there.”
Casey walked toward the front window to look. “He just wants to keep you safe,” she said with a soft laugh.
“I know that. It’s only a ten-minute drive to the Plaza.” She was already mentally adjusting her plans to give her date a chance to explain himself before Thomas barged in and wrecked it.
Was she that desperate? Maybe.
Whatever Emmett’s reasons for reaching out to her through the online dating site and making the donation, she felt there was potential for a real connection between them. What she didn’t feel was that he posed any threat to her.
Thomas would call that naive. Casey would call it wishful thinking.
She called it intuition, and she’d learned to trust her instincts long ago.
Cecelia was going on that date.
Chapter Three
Mission Recovery Training Center, 3:24 p.m.
Emmett Holt braced his elbows on his knees and caught his breath while he unwound the hand wraps protecting his knuckles from the heavy bag. The sweat dripped from his brow, trickled down his arms. Most days a hard workout cleared his head, but he’d been balanced on the edge for too long.
He recognized the signs, knew the inherent danger, but there was no going back.
Not now. He glanced up at the news ticker scrolling across the bottom of the television screen. No inexplicable illness outbreaks. No one closing in on him here at the gym with weapons drawn and handcuffs ready.
Every hour that passed without incident only amped up his tension.
This game had very real, life-altering consequences. Life ending was more accurate. For the inevitable innocent victims, as well as Isely and his team of instigators who’d launched this frustrating drama.
He crossed the gym and locked his ankles into the inversion table, then eased back. For a long moment, he just let himself hang there, upside down, daring anyone to take a shot.
Neither
