There was a faint purple bruise on her cheekbone, however, that might look worse the next day. He brushed his fingertips against the blemish before he could stop himself. Her gaze snapped up to his.
“You have a bruise.”
She backed away from his touch. “Must have banged my face on that box when they were pushing me inside.”
“Are you sure that’s all it was?”
“Nobody hit me. Believe me, I’d have told you.” Her lips curved in a wry, humorless grin. “Though I’d take getting socked in the face three times a day over being shot at.”
Something in the tone of her voice made his gut ache. “Did you have a nightmare about it? While you were asleep?”
She looked away. “I don’t remember.”
She did remember. Vividly. He could tell by the look on her face, the tense set of her shoulders and the white-knuckled grip of her clasped hands.
“I used to have combat-related nightmares all the time. Still do sometimes.”
“So they don’t go away?” Despair tinged her voice.
“They usually soften with time. Sharp edges dull, sounds mute.” Blood didn’t run as freely or as crimson-dark after a while.
“I don’t know if Wilson had a family,” she murmured after a moment of tense silence. “I don’t even remember if he wore a wedding ring.”
“You didn’t get him killed, Evie.”
“He wouldn’t be dead if he hadn’t been guarding me.”
“He wouldn’t be dead if those men hadn’t shot him. That wasn’t your doing.” He slid his arm across the back of the sofa, letting his fingers brush against the curve of her shoulder. “First rule of engagement—remember who’s the good guy and who’s the bad guy.”
“No, the first rule of engagement is to be courteous to everyone but friendly to no one,” she countered.
He smiled. Should have known he wouldn’t get that one past the daughter of a Marine Corps general. “You’d have been a good Marine.”
The wistful look she gave him caught him off guard. “I wanted to be a Marine. Did you know that?”
He shook his head, surprised. “No. Why didn’t you?”
“Mother didn’t want another Marine to have to worry about. And Dad agreed.” She rested her cheek on her knee, still looking up at him. “I could have defied them. Hell, maybe I should have. But I couldn’t put my mother through another twenty years of anxiety, especially so close to my father’s retirement date.”
He tried to imagine Evie in uniform. She was small but physically strong, as he’d experienced when she’d kicked him in the face earlier that day. He’d watched enough of her Cooper Security training sessions to know she was agile and skillful. She had a decent record at the shooting range, and her thinking skills were top-notch.
The only disadvantage she’d have had as a Marine was her size, and she could have made up much of that deficit with her courage and intellect. He wouldn’t mind having her covering his backside in a fight.
“Do you regret not becoming a Marine?”
“Not as much since you hired me. I get to hone my skills at the office training center, and recently, I’ve had plenty of brushes with death to keep me on top of my game.” She shot him another wry smile. “Always something hopping when you Coopers are around.”
“You have no idea,” he said, thinking about all his family had been through over the past few years. “We used to be such a calm, quiet family.”
She shook her head. “I doubt that.”
Jesse’s cell phone rang, giving them both a start. He fished the phone from his pocket. It was his brother Rick.
“Turn on the television,” Rick ordered tersely.
“What channel?”
“Any of ’em.”
Jesse picked up the TV remote from the coffee table and turned on the television. It was already tuned to a news channel.
“That’s my father,” Evie said, her voice tinted by surprise.
A pretty black television reporter out of Birmingham stood in the live shot next to the general, holding the microphone toward him as he spoke.
The general’s tone was grim. “My daughter Rita and my wife are safe, but I’m worried about my younger daughter, Evelyn.”
Evie grimaced at her father’s use of her given name.
“What is he doing?” Jesse asked Rick.
“Just watch.”
“She’s gone missing and I have no idea where she is.” Her father’s voice trembled with despair.
“What is he doing?” Evie echoed Jesse’s words. “He knows where I am. He just talked to me.”
“Technically, he doesn’t,” Jesse murmured, his heart sinking into the pit of his gut. “And this is a way to put the world on notice to keep an eye out for you.”
So much for flying under the radar.
“Why would he put me in danger this way?” Evie asked.
Jesse didn’t like the only answer that made sense, but she had a right to know what they were up against.
“Someone’s gotten to him,” he said.
* * *
E VIE PACED in front of the sofa, her stomach in knots. To her right, the television played on, the volume muted. The news broadcasters had moved on to a new story, but Jesse had left the television on in case there were any new developments.
“Does your father know who’s been hiring the SSU?” he asked.
“I’m not a hundred percent sure,” she admitted. “But I think not. He hasn’t told me much at all, but from what he’s let slip, I think General Ross is the one who knew the most.”
Jesse nodded. “That’s what Emmett Harlowe told us.”
Evie made herself sit down on the coffee table in front of Jesse, folding her hands in her lap. She willed herself to mimic Jesse’s serene confidence, even if she couldn’t feel it. “Even if we were able to talk my father into sharing his part of the code, we still don’t have General Ross’s.”
“Shannon and Gideon have been working with Lydia Ross to figure out who might have his copy of the code.” Jesse’s sister Shannon had spent a week with General Ross’s widow almost two months earlier, helping her archive the general’s possessions in anticipation of Lydia’s move away from the private Gulf Coast island that had been
