DANGER IS HER ALIAS

As a spy, Sabine Laduca works alone. But when she investigates her brother’s murder, she’s forced into an uneasy alliance with his Delta Force team leader. The CIA taught Sabine to trust no one, and Sergeant Major Doug Richardson is no exception. The handsome soldier hides his own secrets, but nothing will stop Sabine from finding out who killed her brother. Not even when the CIA declares her rogue. Now not only is the killer after her, so is the agency. For the first time, she needs someone—Doug. Because only he can help her find the truth…and only he can keep her safe….

“Why are you here?” Sabine asked.

“I don’t suppose you’ll accept saving you from an intruder as an answer,” Doug replied.

“Not likely, since I had it handled.” Sort of.

As nice as it would be to believe that, he couldn’t have known she’d needed saving at that very moment. She had to stay upright. If not, Doug would probably throw her over his shoulder and take her to whoever he reported to for that questioning he’d threatened her with.

Was he friend or foe? He acted as if he cared. But then at times he was like a runaway train. Nothing would stop him from getting what he wanted.

He broke into her thoughts. “Thinking about running again?”

“I was—” Her voice gave out. Sabine touched her throat. It was tender from the intruder’s grip. She sucked in a deep breath. It was all she could do.

“Sabine.” His voice sounded far away, like he was speaking underwater.

The floor swept up toward her and Sabine descended into darkness….

Dear Reader,

Thank you for going on this journey with Doug and Sabine, my first book for the Love Inspired Suspense line. I hope it was as fun to read as it was for me to write!

In Double Agent, Doug and Sabine are both confined by the chains of their pasts, until they surrender their lives to the Lord. The shame and guilt we suffer because of the things we’ve done, or the decisions we’ve made, can stay with us. But God is truly the only one who can bring freedom in our lives. His love can break those chains.

To find out more about me and my books you can go to www.authorlisaphillips.com or you can email me at lisaphillipsbks@gmail.com. If you’re not online, you can write to me c/o Love Inspired Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279. I would love to hear from you.

God bless you richly,

Lisa Phillips

LISA PHILLIPS

A British expat who grew up an hour outside of London, Lisa attended Calvary Chapel Bible College. There she met her husband who’s from California, but nobody’s perfect. It wasn’t until her Bible College graduation that she figured out she was a writer (someone told her). Since then she’s taken the Apprentice and Journeyman writing courses with the Christian Writers Guild, and discovered a penchant for high-stakes stories of mayhem and disaster where you can find made-for-each-other love that always ends in happily ever after.

Lisa can be found in Idaho wearing either flip-flops or cowgirl boots, depending on the season. She leads worship with her husband at their local church. Together they have two children, a sparkly Little Princess and a Mini Daddy, and two bunny rabbits.

You can tweet Lisa (@lisaphillipsbks) or to find out more visit www.authorlisaphillips.com.

Double Agent
Lisa Phillips

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ.

—Ephesians 2:13

For my sister Beverley, who read all fifty-seven thousand versions of my Speed Date pitch before declaring it was FINE.

I guess it was.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Copyright

ONE

Dominican Republic

Friday, 16:00

“What is she doing here?” Army Sergeant Major Doug Richardson hissed out a breath as three guys crowded around him in the commandeered apartment, his Delta Force teammates.

Doug put his eye back to the viewfinder. The glass-fronted bistro across the street was next door to a swanky hotel. The eatery was the current location of their target, who sat at the crowded restaurant bar with his aviator sunglasses on like some kind of hotshot movie star. Doug felt his teammates gather around him—Barker, Hanning and Perkins. The fifth member, Franklin, was positioned in the hotel lobby.

Doug had to be mistaken. Was it really her? Surely there were other women in the world with that stride, with the same dark—almost black—hair that caught the light like that?

But there she was.

She glanced around the restaurant like she was looking for an empty seat. Of course the only one available was the stool beside the target. She had no idea who this guy was. Or that this was a golden opportunity for his team to observe Christophe Parelli conducting business. And there she was, right in the middle of it.

The woman he’d met a handful of times was quiet and well-spoken—not the type to smile like that at the man who had financed her brother’s murder.

Their team had hoped Parelli would meet with the person he worked for. In an ideal world, the guy would be here to meet the person known only as the Raven.

Years of team effort would pull together in a result that brought them the mysterious head of the crime syndicate they’d been chasing for what seemed like forever. The idea that Sabine might be Parelli’s contact was insane. Doug wasn’t even going to entertain the idea that she might be the Raven, because that meant everything he felt was wrong.

At the funeral she’d stood alone beside her brother’s grave while the wind had whipped her hair around her face. The weight of her grief had about killed Doug. He’d almost missed the strain when she was handed the folded-up flag, but it had been there. If anyone touched her, it would have broken the tight hold she had on her emotions.

That was two weeks ago now, and Doug hadn’t been able to get her out of his head since. Though he’d had an instinct that this mission was going to go wrong, the last thing he thought it might be was her. She was supposed to be at home, grieving the loss of her brother.

Not in the middle of the operation to bring down the man who killed him.

Doug growled, then simply said, “Sabine.”

* * *

Sabine Laduca settled herself on the stool and signaled the bartender. Her stomach churned, but she pasted on a smile. “Diet soda, please.”

She smoothed down the skirt of her dress and walked her mind through her training. Her whole adult life had prepared her for this moment, and she could not screw it up. Years of instruction with the CIA, coupled with years of missions that took her all over the world and tested her beyond her skills... It all came down to now.

The man beside her was handsome enough, she supposed, if you went for the overly styled Mediterranean-playboy type. That wasn’t Sabine’s thing. Her type ran more toward a gorgeous Delta Force team leader with almond-colored skin.

The man who seemed to always be on her mind was the perfect mix of a tall African-American army general and a beautiful Caucasian woman. She’d seen a picture of his parents only once and didn’t know too much about them, but it was easy to tell he’d been given the best features from both.

Unlike her.

Sabine shifted in her seat and shot the target a cordial smile, like she was perfectly content with her own thoughts.

It really was too bad that life threw a wrench in every single plan she made. Not so much disrupting her dreams, but more like completely obliterating them. Just not this plan—please—because this mission was more important than anything she’d ever done.

Contact with the target wasn’t sanctioned, but she needed Parelli’s fingerprint to gain access to his hotel room. There were other ways she could have gotten it, but there was no way she was going to pass this up.

This was her chance to look in the eyes of the man who had financed her brother’s murder.

Despite being a fully trained agent for years, she’d never killed anyone. It almost seemed fitting for this man to be her first. Except that revenge would be way too easy. Sabine wasn’t after quick and painless; her broken heart cried out for the complete destruction of everything this man held dear—which for this guy was money and nothing else.

Retrieving the hard drive from his computer was only the first step of the plan. Her handler’s instructions were clear: no bloodshed and no emotions—just get the computer data and get out. The tech guys he passed the hard drive to would do the rest of the work.

She glanced at the target and realized he’d pulled his sunglasses down his nose with one finger and was taking her in. Sabine pursed her mouth and put on her best British accent. “Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it?”

He flashed his bleached teeth. “This is the Caribbean. Unless it’s hurricane season, it’s always lovely weather.”

She laughed, trying her best to sound charmed. Her phone rang, stalling what she’d been about to say. It took everything in her to hold back her surprise at the number on screen, but she smiled as though delighted.

“Hello?” How long would it take him to ask why she’d put on a British accent?

“What do you think you are doing?”

She blinked. That was all the reaction she allowed to the fact that he’d roared. “Is everything okay, darling?”

“No, everything is not okay. Get up and leave the restaurant. Now.”

He knew where she was. Sabine transferred the phone to her other ear. Hopefully the target hadn’t heard Doug shout. She wasn’t about to let the Delta Force soldier interfere in her CIA-sanctioned mission. Too bad he was still yelling, which meant she couldn’t get a word in. Didn’t the army know that an operative was going to be here?

“You have no idea what you’re in the middle of.”

And he had no idea that she wasn’t a banker, but a spy. Busted. Or did Doug think she was chasing her brother’s killer on her own? Either way, he needed to get off the phone. “Of course, darling, that sounds like a splendid idea. I’ll meet you there once I’ve finished at the shops.”

“No delays, Sabine. This better not be what I think it is.”

The bartender removed the target’s drink and replaced it with a fresh one.

“I go where I want, when I want. As I said, I’ll be there when I’ve finished.” She hung up.

“Boyfriend?”

“He wishes.” She held out her hand to the target. “I’m Sabine.”

He kissed her knuckles. “Christophe Parelli.”

Like his name was supposed to mean something to her? Well, it meant something, all right, and none of what she knew was good. It meant the son of a weapons dealer being groomed to take over Daddy’s business. It meant too much money and too little sense. In general, trouble with a capital T.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, but I must dash. The day is waning, and there’s still plenty of his money to spend.”

Across the restaurant she looked back over her shoulder to smile and wave, but his attention was already elsewhere. She skirted the edge of the bar, swiped his empty glass from the tray and strode in the direction of the restrooms. With the glass tucked away in the mammoth purse she’d bought online because it went with her dress, Sabine went down the hall past the ladies’ room all the way to the exit door at the end.

* * *

Five minutes later Sabine placed the image of Christophe Parelli’s fingerprint on the hotel room’s door scanner and covered it with the base of her thumb. The reader needed body heat, but she didn’t want to confuse it with two overlapping prints. The light on the scanner switched to green, and the lock clicked open.

Doug’s team was probably here on the same mission. Too bad for them that she was going to get to Parelli’s computer first. She’d always had a problem with sharing.

Her steps were muffled on the plush carpet. Despite the price tag that came with this suite, it was still just a hotel room. Something inside her yearned for home, but she pushed it away. Now wasn’t the time for that.

The desktop was bare. The safe in the bedroom closet was shut and locked. Sabine entered the code she’d memorized and held her breath.

She drew out the laptop, flipped it over and pulled a screwdriver from her purse. The hard drive slid out into her hand. She secured the cover again, set the laptop back in the safe and glanced at the watch face on her bracelet.

Still enough time to search the room.

Clothes were strewn over every available surface, and the bathroom counter was cluttered with men’s hair-care products. Sabine rolled her eyes. It wasn’t like he was a movie star or a male model or anything like that.

Satisfied there was nothing else worth taking, she turned to exit the suite.

The lock on the outer door clicked.

Her breath stuttered and a blue baseball cap appeared between the now open door and the frame. She shoved the hard drive in her purse and blanked her face.

Doug’s gaze found her in the middle of the bedroom—dark caramel eyes that gave nothing away. He filled the doorway, so tall that, if he didn’t shave his head, his hair could have touched the frame. So wide it was a wonder he didn’t get stuck. Sabine was tall herself, but Doug made her feel small in a way that had nothing to do with self-worth and everything to do with comfort.

Her brother had been skinny and baby faced his whole life—even at thirty-one years old, Ben had looked more like a kid playing dress-up in his uniform than an actual soldier. Doug, on the other hand, made that dark green dress uniform look good. Mouthwateringly good.

Today his navy blue T-shirt was damp with the heat of the day, and his cargo shorts and ball cap were every tourist’s go-to apparel. Only there was nothing about him that blended in.

Doug closed the door and held up the clear plastic with Christophe’s fingerprint on it. She shut her eyes. She’d left it on the scanner. She wanted to reprimand herself over such a simple mistake, but put a hand on her hip instead. “What are you doing here?” Her voice shook more than she’d have liked, but it was too late now.

“What am I— Seriously? That’s what you’re going with?” He glanced around the room. “Let me guess...CIA?”

She stiffened. He wasn’t supposed to get it right the first time.

“Did Ben know about this?”

Her stomach surged like a storm-fueled wave. “You don’t get to talk about my brother.”

He stepped closer. “This is about him, right? Ben is the reason why we’re all after Parelli.”

She hated that he pitied her. And that his voice had to go soft. He’d been there when Ben was murdered by a sniper on what was supposed to be a routine mission. As far as she was concerned, that meant Doug was responsible.

“We need to talk but not here. Let’s go.”

Sabine blinked. “Excuse me? I happen to be working.”

Doug looked away. “Copy that, California.” He surged forward. “Someone’s coming. We have to hide.”

Apparently “California” was the handle of the newest member of Doug’s team—the electronics expert who had replaced her brother, Ben. She didn’t want that thought to touch her, but the knife slipped in, anyway.

She loved Ben’s old team: Barker, the big African-American Texan who always smiled; Hanning, who looked like a male model in his designer clothes; Franklin, so ordinary in appearance that she had almost overlooked him, until she got to know him and found out his heart was large.

Doug dragged her to the closet and closed the partition door so they were shrouded in darkness. He pulled on her arm and tried to get her to move deeper into the closet, but she shrugged him off.

“Sabine,” he hissed.

Nose to the wood, she studied the suite through the slim gap in the door. “They’re here.”

Christophe Parelli sauntered in and tossed his sunglasses on the bed. A woman followed him, wearing a red dress similar to Sabine’s. She, too, had long, dark hair. In fact, the resemblance was so striking that Sabine sucked in a breath through her nose.

The woman moved to the fridge in the corner and pulled out a glass bottle of amber liquid. She took her time pouring two drinks and then handed one to Christophe. With the limited view Sabine had, she couldn’t make out the woman’s features. Her bearing was familiar, but Sabine couldn’t place where she’d seen her before.

Doug touched Sabine’s shoulder. She took another deep breath and expelled it, low and slow. As soon as the woman and Parelli left, then Doug and Sabine would be able to get out of there.

Christophe held up his glass. “A toast, to a beautiful relationship.”

“Yes.” The woman took a sip of her drink, while she watched Christophe swallow his. “Too bad it cannot continue.”

Christophe jerked. The glass fell. It hit the carpet with a dull thud. His hand grasped his throat. “What did you do?” His voice was raspy.

Though the woman laughed, there was no humor in the sound. “You didn’t think I could let you live, did you? So naive. You, my dear, are a liability, and liabilities must be eradicated.”

“But—”

Christophe dropped to his knees, wheezing. Doug pulled on her arm as he tried again to draw her away from the horrific scene, but she held fast. Something about the woman would help identify her. Anything was better than admitting Sabine was seeing someone take their last breath. Again.

Doug’s hand slid from her elbow, and he stilled her fingers with his.

The woman sighed. “I know it pains you to hear it. But you are one small part, an insignificant part that I cannot allow to remain free. So goodbye, my dear. It really was a pleasure.”

Christophe collapsed to the floor. Sabine could barely see his chest move. The woman strode from the room, leaving the door wide open.

“She’s gone.”

Doug opened the closet door. “Copy that, California. Ten minutes.”

Sabine forced her gaze away from the dead man. “What?”

“Rendezvous. Let’s go.”

She didn’t move. The woman who had killed Christophe had probably used some kind of fast-acting poison that closed the airways and stopped the heart. Easy enough to get, and who cared if it showed up in an autopsy? The guy wasn’t any less dead.

Her red dress had been too much like Sabine’s. And that wasn’t the only similarity. There was only one logical conclusion.

“I killed him.”

TWO

“That woman. She was... It was supposed to look like I did it. Multiple people saw Christophe and me talking at the bar in that restaurant. People would have seen that woman come up here with him. We have the same build. The same long, dark hair. The same red dress.” Sabine blinked. “Who knew I’d be here?”

Understanding washed over his features. “We still have to go. More so if you’re going to be the number one suspect.”

Her breath came faster and faster, and she pressed her fists to the sides of her face. She was going to be framed for this. Sabine stumbled back; her ankle rolled. She hit the floor and cried out.

Doug hauled her to her feet. “We have to go.”

“Please.” She didn’t know what she was asking for.

“You want to stay here with the dead guy?” He half held, half carried her down the hall. “We need to get gone.”

Her brain spun until she was hardly able to string two thoughts together. She saw her handler, Neil, at the park under a Saturday-morning sun briefing her on the mission. “She made it look like I killed him.”

Doug glanced at her, still pulling her along. “Sabine.” His voice was a warning.

She forced away the pain in her ankle to keep up with him. Behind them there was a shout, followed by the rush of feet. Sabine looked back as two men in suits broke into a run.

“Time to go,” Doug said.

They sprinted for the exit. Adrenaline pulsed through her. It cleared her mind. Sabine found her own steam and pulled away from him. Doug grabbed her hand again as they closed the distance to the stairwell; he punched open the door and pulled her up instead of down.

“What are you doing? We should go to the lobby. The exit.”

He didn’t slow, just took each flight of stairs at a punishing pace. Every step shot fire from her twisted ankle up her leg.

“Less talking. More running.”

A door slammed below. Dress shoes pounded up the stairwell. The echo bounced off the walls.

“We should split up,” she said.

Doug’s hand tightened on hers. They rounded the landing on the next floor and continued up. “California, get us out of here.”

Sweat ran down her back. Sabine pushed through the strain in her muscles and concentrated on each step. Behind them the two goons raced up the stairs.

“Copy that.” Doug yanked her arm and changed direction. Sabine hissed with the pain and trailed him through a door into a hallway where rooms stretched out before them on either side. Doug jerked her again, opened a door that said Maintenance and swept her inside.

The door clicked closed, and they were enveloped in darkness yet again. All she could hear was heavy breathing, though Doug didn’t seem to be nearly as winded as she was. It was barely a second before the stairwell door opened.

“Where’d they go?” The voice spoke in Italian.

Sabine held her breath. Christophe was Italian. These were probably the bodyguards Daddy had assigned to him.

A different voice replied, also in Italian. “You search this floor. I’ll take the stairs again. Call me if you find them.”

The two men dispersed.

Sabine exhaled. “Let’s get out of here.”

Doug held up one finger, but Sabine wasn’t in the mood to be told what to do. He must have seen it on her face because, before she could move, he was between her and the door.

He moved his face an inch from hers and kept his voice low. “Now isn’t the time for showmanship.”

Everything she’d just seen through the crack in the closet door came back in a rush. The woman had put something in Christophe’s drink that made him fall to the floor.

“If this gets out, it’ll end my career,” she whispered.

Doug shifted. “Quiet.”

Where was the Doug who’d been in the hotel room, the one who looked at her with kindness and compassion? Where was the man who had stood by her at her brother’s graveside? This guy was the army Special Ops soldier with the permanent callus between his thumb and index finger on his gun hand. Mr. Team Leader was clearly used to giving orders that were obeyed without question.

Sabine had never been good at being told what to do. “So this is your big escape plan, huh? Hiding in a closet?”

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. In the darkness of the tiny room, frustration came off him in waves. “Copy that, California.”

Doug eased the door open and glanced both ways. Sabine took a step to follow. Her ankle gave out and she collapsed, biting back what she really wanted to say. Her right ankle was swollen around the straps of her shoe.

Doug crouched and unbuckled both of them. He lifted her swollen foot and winced. “You need a bandage. Probably some crutches.”

She couldn’t let herself get distracted by the kindness in his voice. It was normally deep, almost melodic in tone, and she liked listening to him shout instructions when the guys played their extremely intense version of touch football. Now she knew that when he spoke softly in that low voice, it chased away the shivers.

“What I need is to get off the floor.”

His mouth thinned, but he helped her up.

Sabine swung her purse on her shoulder and cleared the door so he could close it. “What floor is this?”

“Twelve.”

No way was she going to hobble down multiple flights of stairs. She turned and limped for the elevator, not caring if he followed or not. Honest. “My room is only two floors down. I can see myself there. Thanks for your help.”

“I don’t think so.” He kept pace with her, glancing around. “Copy that, California.” He zeroed in on Sabine. “Perkins says you don’t have a room.”

She smirked. “Amateurs.”

“Excuse me?”

They reached the elevators. When Doug didn’t press the button, Sabine reached for it herself. “I bet he checked for me under my real name.”

“You have another one that we don’t know about?”

She smiled. “The things you don’t know about me could fill the whole internet.”

He folded his arms. “Evidently. For starters, how a professional...whatever you are...manages to be surprised when someone assassinates a target. I thought you guys were all about offing the bad guy.”

The whole thing hit way too close to home. Seeing someone killed, despite the difference in circumstances. Well, it didn’t matter. Witnessing someone’s last breath wasn’t something she could forget.

Sabine drew on the only thing she had left: bravado. “Do they teach stereotyping to all army soldiers, or is that just your thing?”

She stepped into the empty elevator and winced at the pain in her foot. That was the only reason she had tears in her eyes. The disappointment on Doug’s face didn’t have anything to do with it. Who cared what he thought of her, anyway?

“I’m sorry.”

She whipped around. “Don’t.”

“Sabine—”

The elevator doors opened, and they both stayed silent while he walked her to her room. When the door didn’t close behind her, she whirled as fast as her ankle would let her. Doug stood there, scanning the room she’d reserved. Of course he’d waltzed in right behind her. Probably thought he was going to personally escort her all the way home.

She looked around at the budget accommodations. It was a far cry from Christophe’s suite, but she didn’t care what it looked like. This was the room that brought her within reach of the man who was the money behind Ben’s death—the man who likely knew who was responsible.

She had to know who’d fired the rifle from that rooftop. She had to know why Ben was gone. Otherwise, what was the point? But how could she find out what had happened when the biggest lead was dead? Not to mention that her retribution plan was now pointless.

She wanted to pray there was something on the hard drive that would point to who had killed Ben, but her emotions were too messed up to deal with the issue of faith just then.

There had to be evidence on there they could use, otherwise all of her investigation into classified government files, running down leads, the days of work she’d put in—everything leading up to this mission—would have been for nothing. And Sabine would be left with only the empty feeling of not being able to make sense of anything.

Doug closed the door with him on the wrong side of it. “We shouldn’t stay here too long. Christophe’s bodyguards might get lucky and figure out where you’re staying.”

“The two guys who chased us? Please. I’ve seen smarter sponges.”

Sabine dug through her suitcase for her first-aid kit. She located an elastic bandage, sat on the edge of the bed and started to wrap her ankle. Sharp pain sliced through her foot, and she ducked her head to blow out a breath through pursed lips.

Masculine fingers covered hers. The distinction between his almond-colored skin and her olive-toned flesh made it all the more clear to her that they had little common ground. The loving family he came from was worlds away from her dingy two-bedroom childhood home where everything had gone wrong.

“Let me.”

She looked up. The warmth of his fingers on hers registered, along with the look in his eye. Her throat thickened, and she forced herself to nod.

While he made quick work of the bandage, Sabine felt her heart stretch and come awake for the first time. That had never happened any of the other times she’d met Doug—MacArthur, as the guys called him. The simple name suited his steady and uncomplicated nature.

At the few backyard barbecues for the team and their families that she’d attended, Sabine had always felt like an outsider. She’d been attracted to Doug, but any time they had talked he steered the conversation through small talk and never lingered for long.

He clearly didn’t feel anything special for her. That was when she began to make excuses to her brother and say she had to work—which wasn’t a lie. Now that Ben was dead, she wished she hadn’t made him look at her that way or feel sorry for her.

Sabine cleared her throat. “So why are you guys here?”

“Why don’t you tell me why you’re here first?”

“You tell me, and I’ll tell you. Otherwise I have nothing to say.” It was juvenile, but she wasn’t in the mood for a heart-to-heart. Her ankle hurt like nobody’s business. Not to mention the weight of a man’s life was now on her shoulders.

She didn’t know what the recourse of all this would be. No doubt there’d be some kind of investigation into Christophe’s death. When her name came up, she hoped she had the strength to stand up for herself. Not to mention that there would be enough evidence to prove it wasn’t her who had murdered him.

Doug rubbed his eyes. Was he frustrated this wasn’t turning out like he had planned? Good. Immediately she wanted to take that thought back. Despite the imposing size of him, he did look sort of lost.

Sabine had enough to deal with without letting him distract her from her job, so she ignored him. She had the hard drive. It really was time to go before someone identified her. After dumping everything into the rolling carry-on she traveled with, she slipped her feet into silver flats, put her sunglasses on top of her head and turned to the door.

Doug grabbed her elbow, but she kept going. After a tug of war in which she lost her sunglasses and found herself sitting on the desk chair, she finally acknowledged him. He towered over her, his hands on the armrests.

Sabine lifted her chin. “Make this fast. I have a plane to catch.”

“I’m coming with you.”

Sabine almost swooned with the vulnerability in his tone. Almost. “I don’t think so.”

“Sabine, this is serious. Right now, where you go, I go. That’s how it has to be.”

“Why?”

“You’re seriously asking me that? We have to figure out what just happened. You want to find Ben’s killer? Well, so do I. If we pool our resources together, we have the best chance of that. So we’re going to meet up with my team, and you’re going to tell me what you’re doing here, what you want with that hard drive you hid in your purse and whatever else you know.”

She smirked. He thought she was going to spill everything just like that? Yep, amateurs. “Answers, answers. Let’s see. Life...the universe...and forty-seven.”

“Funny.” He wasn’t laughing. “I think you know something. Maybe it’s a small thing...or maybe you’re the key to all of this.”

She sighed. “Am I supposed to know what on earth you’re talking about?” He should know how it was. They both lived their lives under the radar. That was the whole point of being a spy. He was Special Forces. They only told the people closest to them what they did.

“I guess we’ll find out.”

Sabine glared. “Even if I could help you, there’s no way I would give you even one second of my time. You were there when my brother died—”

“I can’t talk to you about that. It’s classified.”

“Look, MacArthur—”

“Doug.”

Sabine rolled her eyes. “The only thing I care about is bringing whoever killed Ben to justice. Whatever association you and I might’ve had has now ended. Unless you care to share what happened that night.”

The muscle at the corner of his eye twitched. “You need my help if you’re going to get out of this hotel without getting questioned for Christophe’s death.”

“You said yourself we don’t have much time before those two guys find us, or someone raises the alarm about Christophe being dead and the whole place swarms with cops.”

He held out his hand. “Let’s go then.”

She brushed it aside and stood. “This is where we part. It’s been an experience, really. But like I said, I have a plane to catch.”

“Look, I know how hard this must be for you.”

Was he serious? “You have no idea—”

“Let me finish.” He had the decency to look apologetic. “Please. I can help you put this to rest, but I have to know how you fit in.”

“You think I had something to do with Ben’s death?” She forced the words past a resurgence of the complete and utter desperate, aching solitude that had followed her brother’s death. To her horror, a slice of her private grief tracked its way down her cheek.

She swiped away the moisture and shoved past him.

“Try seeing this from my perspective, Sabine. The team is shadowing the man who paid for your brother to be executed—”

“Executed—” The word was a whisper from her mouth.

Doug winced. “We’re trying to get to the bottom of it. You can help me find out what happened. If need be, we’ll clear your name. We both want justice. Let’s work together.”

She shook her head. “I can’t. Christophe is dead, and I plan on getting as far from this as possible. Unless there’s something seriously incriminating on the hard drive that leads to the killer and lays out the whys of it all—which I seriously doubt—then it’s over. My brother is dead. Justice is just a vain hope.”

“Sabine—”

Her stomach churned. “No. I was wrong to attempt this. A man is dead. Yes, he was a criminal. And most likely responsible for Ben’s death. That means in some way justice has already been served. Let’s leave it there. Please. I’m going to turn the hard drive over to my handler and walk away.”

Doug’s eyes were wet. “I can’t let you do that. I have to know what happened. I won’t beg for your help, but I don’t see how you can walk away and let this lie.”

The heartbreak on his face nearly did her in. Sabine touched his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin and the late-day stubble. “We need time to grieve. Both of us.”

Something flickered in his eyes, and everything changed. She drew her hand away. Her stomach plunged like an elevator at the thought of exactly what that look might mean. But she couldn’t let it penetrate the fortified walls of her heart.

For the first time, Doug was more than her brother’s team leader. Despite what had brought them together, he was being a friend to her. Since she had few true friends, it was hard to recognize one or to trust the offer of friendship when it was given.

Ben had reacted...badly, when she had told him what she really did for a living. Granted, he’d been thrown after finally admitting to her what his position was in the army. Delta Force.

After he had told her that he was Special Ops, Sabine couldn’t let the opportunity pass to open up about her own occupation. How was she to know he would hit the roof when he found out her job was just as dangerous as his—maybe more so, since she didn’t have a team to back her up?

She didn’t want to know what would have happened if Doug hadn’t been there today. She’d needed him to get her out of Parelli’s room after she realized she was going to be framed. So much for being a capable agent. Did that mean she couldn’t handle this job on her own?

Doug pulled the cap from his head, ran his hand down his face and replaced his ball cap. “I’m sorry. You don’t need the weight of my grief, too.”

Sabine turned away and swiped up the handle of her suitcase. “Tensions are high. Don’t sweat it.”

“Sabine—”

“I told you I have a plane to catch.”

Sabine was out of her depth. Sure, she was a trained agent. She was just more of an information-gathering, bug-planting, charm-the-bad-guy-into-talking kind of spy. She was about as far from a fully armed Special Ops team as it was possible to be, despite their mutual goal of finding out who had killed Ben.

Doug grabbed her arm. “I can’t let you leave, Sabine. You’re not going anywhere without me until I get some answers.”

THREE

Mistakes. That’s what it all boiled down to in Doug’s mind. His life could be summed up in a series of mistakes that never should have been made—the most recent of which stood in front of him now. He touched her elbow. It was slender, her skin smooth under his rough fingers callused from a war he had never wanted to reach her shore.

Her head reached his chin, and her hair reflected every shade from auburn to dark chocolate. The red dress flattered her figure in a way that wasn’t suggestive. She was pure class. The color looked warm against the almost Mediterranean-rich tan of her skin. Ben had been much lighter. Doug had wondered why the siblings hadn’t looked anything alike. On the day he had asked Ben, Doug had been given a back off look. He didn’t ask again.

Despite the feelings she evoked in him, Doug was on a mission, and emotions had no bearing. At least they weren’t supposed to. He’d have to chalk up his earlier outburst to being overcome with grief. After all, who knew the extent of her involvement in Christophe Parelli’s life, his business and his death? The quicker Doug got both of them out of here, the quicker he could find out how Sabine figured into Ben’s death. CIA or not, she’d be answering a whole lot of questions.

After that she would be free to walk out of his life. He thought of all those get-togethers when he’d had to force himself to be cordial while everything in him hummed just from being near her. The reality of how shallow his attraction to her was hit him like a needle that burst a balloon and deflated his sense of honor.

It seemed like his initial impression had been entirely wrong. Not about her being very good at what she did. He’d believed she was some high-powered financial type at the bank where she worked. Ben had told anyone who would listen that his sister was a big deal, traveling all over the world for her job.

Had Ben even known the truth?

She wasn’t the type of woman that Doug wanted to get to know. Even though just looking at her made his brain miss critical steps, Doug couldn’t let her affect him. She’d charmed her way close enough to Christophe Parelli to get his fingerprints, and Doug had no interest in a woman who used her looks to get what she wanted. Once this mission was over, they’d both get on with their lives.

“My plane leaves in three hours.” She lowered her slim wrist. The gold bracelet didn’t look like any watch he’d ever seen. The smallest bit of fear crept on her face, despite the stubborn set to her shoulders.

“You’ll be on it. Just as soon as we get to a safe place where you can answer some questions.”

A click in his earpiece signaled California had something to say. “You gonna bring her over here, MacArthur?”

Doug caught her eye. How would she react to being crowded by army operatives? She knew each of them, except Ben’s replacement. He’d seen her laugh and talk with the boys and their wives and girlfriends. Still, despite her status as a teammate’s sister, he doubted any of them would be kind now that there were questions over her involvement.

“We’ll be there in five, California.”

He hoped the crack in her armor, the one currently giving off waves of fear, was an indication that she’d share what she knew. Doug had no intention of interrogating her. Nor could he hurt her in any way.

Even if it hadn’t been Sabine, he wasn’t the kind of man who did that. It didn’t line up with what he’d been taught, his personal code of ethics or his faith. All in all, that was a lot of rules, but they were good rules. Honest standards he could live by and know he got things right.

Sabine Laduca was the antithesis of everything he stood for—a bolt of lightning. Would God create a woman for the sole purpose of throwing Doug off his game?

Well, he might be thrown, but there was no way she would bring him down.

If that tear she had tried to hide was anything to go by, he’d brought her grief back to the surface. There was no other choice. Doug was tempted to dial down his determination to find the truth. For the sake of this woman’s obvious pain, he could take some extra time to soothe her into sharing.

But he wasn’t going to.

Could she really be involved? Who even knew what the CIA was up to? In spite of his personal distaste, he had to push her. He couldn’t afford to suddenly go soft. Sabine knew something. Until he found out what, she was going to have to deal with the discomfort. They were together. And she was right. They really shouldn’t stay in this room any longer. Parelli’s guys could show up again any second.

“You good to go?”

Sabine grabbed her roll-on suitcase again. But this time when she straightened, her face was a blank mask.

He sighed. “Right. Let’s move.”

He took the suitcase from her. She didn’t like it, given the look on her face. Too bad. No man worth his salt made a woman pull her own suitcase when he was perfectly capable.

Doug scanned the hall both ways, gave a short nod and led her out, taking her hand to make sure she stayed with him. He paid no mind to the shimmer of warmth when he touched her slender fingers. He just hadn’t held a woman’s hand in a long time.

He pressed the button for the elevator. To anyone observing, they were simply a couple on their way down to check out. They could easily be on their honeymoon for all anyone else knew—except for the lack of wedding rings.

And didn’t that just prick his heart in a way he wasn’t ready to consider? Maybe, after he retired from the army, he could have that kind of relationship with a woman. Whoever she was, the woman he married would understand his driven nature because her heart beat to the same pattern. Family. Loyalty. Trust. Honesty. Those were the lifeblood of any relationship.

It was too bad he could never trust the woman beside him. His dream was just that—a dream. Until then he’d have to rely on God to take care of the future. The years of training that made him the man he was today would cover the here and now.

Six foot four, 250 pounds of muscle, Doug was a weapon honed by the United States Army into one of their best soldiers—a fact that had nothing to do with who his father was. Doug had sent home all the daddy’s boy naysayers with their tails between their legs. Sure, Doug could have gone the West Point route and earned butter bars, but the gold bars of a lieutenant’s rank would have put him behind a desk commanding missions. Not on the ground in the thick of it.

His dad had known exactly how hard Doug would have to work to push himself beyond his limits and earn the position of team leader. The general might have made Doug earn every patch the hard way, but it’d been worth it to feel the achievement of having done it. They understood that about each other, at least.

When the doors opened on the lobby, Doug tensed. Through the crowd of people milling around, he spotted his teammate assigned to the lobby—Franklin. Despite being in his late thirties, Franklin had the air of a middle-aged banker about him that allowed him to blend in anywhere.

Doug shifted his grip on Sabine’s hand, and they strode to the front counter where she checked out of the hotel.

After signing A. Surleski on the receipt, she looked at him. “It’s past lunch. I’m going to need something to eat pretty soon.”

Doug looked her up and down. “You seem like a woman way too concerned about her appearance to be worried about something as pesky as eating.”

Her eyes narrowed. “They do say that looks can be deceiving.”

He doubted that. He knew her type. The expensive clothes said enough, but the way she held herself spoke much louder. He had a nagging feeling this woman was going to prove to be high maintenance when it served her purpose.

“In this case, I can read you loud and clear.” He folded his arms across his chest. “But since I’m hungry, too, I guess we can rustle up something.” He shot a look at the receptionist. The guy was busy typing into his computer. “After we join the others in our party and finish up our business, of course.”

Her dangly gold earrings shook back and forth with the motion of her head. “There’s a restaurant next door, remember? We can pick something up there.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really. I’m telling you—”

He stopped listening. The two guys who had chased them down the hall stepped off the elevator. “Time to go.”

Doug strode to the side door, careful not to rush and draw anyone’s attention. Dragged along by his grip, Sabine let out a yelp. He rolled his eyes and looked back. She made a valiant effort to keep up with his long strides. This had better be about her ankle. She’d better not be being difficult just because she wanted to go it alone.

The air outside was like stepping into a sauna. Doug quickened his pace, and heard a stir of noise and movement behind them. He cut right, pulled Sabine along the sidewalk and watched for a place to cross.

“They’re coming.” Her voice was a hiss. “They’re right behind us.”

He glanced back, and, sure enough, the men had exited the hotel and spotted them. With a shout, the suits started to run.

“Go. Now,” Doug ordered.

A battered sedan pulled in front of them. Doug swerved, skirted the front bumper and glanced back. Franklin was nowhere to be seen, and the men were gaining on them.

“We’re not going to make it,” Sabine answered, but he was too focused on moving and on the voice in his earpiece to respond.

“Ten feet to your left. Yellow cab.”

They climbed in before the driver even stopped.

“Drive.” Doug threw a wad of cash onto the front seat, and the driver hit the gas pedal. “Airport.”

The radio in his ear clicked. “Copy that. Party’s over, friends. MacArthur, we’ll see you back at the house.”

With that, the team was dispersed to make their own way back to the U.S., where they would rendezvous on base for debrief.

Beside him in the cab, Sabine pulled her hand from his grip and rubbed her wrist. Doug ignored his heavy heart, even as it added to the measure of weight he already carried. What would Sabine say when she found out what he’d done? A woman like her would probably slap him across the face. He deserved it for his part in her brother’s death.

He glanced out the back window. The two suited guys stood in the middle of the road outside the hotel. The bigger man formed his fingers into an imaginary gun, which he raised and fired at them.

Sabine flinched.

“We got away,” Doug whispered, trying to reassure her. “They won’t catch up to us again. I’ll make sure of it.”

She looked at him. “Because you’re so good, you’re certain? Wow, you’re arrogant.”

Doug shrugged, deliberately nonchalant. He needed answers from her. Needed her to talk and not retreat again. “It’s true. I’m good at what I do. Once I have what I want, I’ll be out of your life for good.”

Sabine shifted away from him and kept her voice at a low whisper, too. “Don’t make this out to be my fault.”

“I stop at nothing to get a job done. It’s very important you understand that. And to be doubly sure that we’re clear? This is the most important thing I’ve ever done.”

“It’s my brother you’re talking about.”

He dipped his chin and leaned toward her. “Then we’re on the same team. Only you want to walk away because your mission went wrong. Well, I don’t give up that easily. I want the truth about what happened to Ben.”

Sabine’s eyes went wide. “I’m not giving you the hard drive.”

“You think I care about salvaging your reputation? I couldn’t care less about you saving face with your superiors or whoever it is you lone-wolf types report to.”

“You just said we’re on the same team.”

He rolled his eyes again, this time to mask the fact he was impressed with the way she had twisted the conversation around and used his own words against him. “Does that mean you’re going to help me find out who killed Ben and why?”

She stared at him for a good minute. “I’ll help you.”

He looked out the front window. The old man driving the cab alternately looked at the road and glanced back at them, probably straining to hear what they were saying.

“When we’re back in the States, I’ll tell you whatever I know.”

Doug had a valid passport that was part of his government-issue cover identity and a credit card, so he could easily get a ticket on the same flight as Sabine. The problem was, he was suddenly in no hurry to rush back to the lengthy questioning sure to follow. And Sabine was hungry. If he fed her, maybe she would let him in now.

Doug tapped the driver on the shoulder. “We need food. Find us somewhere to eat.”

The driver, who looked like the sun had baked him on high for too long, jerked his head up and down. “I take you to my mama’s café. Best meal of your life.”

“Good.” Doug glanced at Sabine, who really shouldn’t look that surprised. He was a nice guy. He handed the driver more money. “Make it fast.”

Ten minutes later they pulled up outside a bleached building with a sign that read Mama’s Café. After some discussion and more money, Sabine convinced the driver they needed to take her bag inside with them.

The ceiling fans did nothing to cut through the cloud of heat. The seats were faded vinyl, the tabletops were cracked and the air was saturated with the combined scents of breakfast and salsa. Doug’s mouth watered and his stomach rumbled.

Sabine swept past him, pulling her suitcase, and glanced back over her shoulder. “Order me a burrito. Extra hot sauce.” She disappeared into the women’s bathroom.

An older woman with wrinkles, a faded polyester uniform and two missing teeth took his order. Doug slumped into the chair. Rested his forearms on the worn table. Toyed with the salt shaker. All the while he watched the door to the restroom.

He was just about to go searching when Sabine emerged. At least, he thought it was her. The woman who exited the bathroom dragging Sabine’s suitcase looked completely different. She’d switched her dress for a white tank top adorned with two long necklaces and jeans tucked inside knee-high white leather boots. Big gold circular earrings hung down, and her hair had been swept up, wrapped in what looked suspiciously like a silk blouse he’d seen her pack in her suitcase.

She settled herself opposite him, pulled up the suitcase and put it on the seat beside her. Her whole demeanor was much more relaxed.

“Nice disguise.”

She smirked. “Maybe the six-hundred-dollar dress was the disguise.”

She frowned at him, and he noticed the gold watch bracelet was gone.

“It’s a shame you don’t have any other clothes with you,” Sabine said.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

She grinned. “No offense, but you sort of stick out. Even though that outfit screams ‘average-joe tourist.’”

He opened his mouth to object and realized she was probably right. He couldn’t answer anyway because the waitress chose that moment to place their food in front of them.

“You could take off the hat,” Sabine suggested.

He rubbed his shaved head and tugged the ball cap back on. “The hat stays.”

“You don’t have enough hair to have a bad hair day.”

She picked up her silverware and cut a massive bite of burrito. His eyes widened as she shoved it in and chewed with gusto, then swiped up the bottle of hot sauce and shook a few drops onto her next forkful.

She realized he was staring and straightened. “What?”

He picked up his silverware. “Enjoy your food, don’t you?”

“What’s it to you?”

Doug shrugged. “It’s just...refreshing is all. Women who look like you don’t usually eat like, uh...that.”

“I’ll suffer working it off tomorrow, don’t you worry. But it’ll be worth the miles. Take a bite and see for yourself. It’s really good.”

Doug took a bite. She was right, though it was almost too spicy for him. He ate fast, one eye on the time. It would be simplest if they arrived at the airport with enough time for him to get a ticket on the same plane.

“So what’s the real reason you don’t want to take off your hat?”

He hesitated, unsure how to say it without dredging up a whole bunch of grief neither of them could handle. “It’s—”

Sabine’s knife stilled and sadness washed over her face. “That’s Ben’s hat.”

Doug nodded.

“He gave it to you?”

“Wanted me to have it.”

Sabine swallowed. “And here I only got the joy of cleaning out his musty, cluttered bedroom.” She drew in a long breath, and he saw the quiver in her lower lip. “Not that I’ve done it yet. I mean, really, you’d think a grown man would be able to keep his room tidy. Especially someone in the military.”

“You’d think that, what with all the spot inspections during basic training. Some guys pick up a tendency for order and bring it home with them. Others see their private living space as somewhere else to blow off steam.”

“So what are you? A neat freak? Or does your place look like a tornado the way Ben’s always did?”

“Does it matter?”

Sabine pulled away, any rapport they might have had now shut down by his tone. Doug had no intention of moving into personal territory with this woman. No matter how much he wanted to.

It was for the best.

He stood. “I’m going to make a pit stop, and then we should get going.”

The bathroom looked about as good as it smelled. Doug held his breath and took care of business as fast as possible. What would his superiors say when he turned up with Sabine in tow? CIA operatives and the army didn’t exactly mix. Talk about a clash of cultures.

He pushed open the door and glanced around the restaurant. His stomach sank. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He rushed out the front door. The cab was gone, too.

She’d ditched him.

FOUR

Seattle, WA

Friday, 23:00

Windshield wipers valiantly swiped the rain away, but more drops continued to pound on the car. Sabine parked her baby—a paid-in-full black Cadillac CTS—in the garage of her Seattle home. Only when the garage door lowered fully did she get out and pull her suitcase from the trunk.

It was late, and every muscle in her body ached, which was good because it distracted her from the throb in her ankle. Sabine had never been able to sleep on planes, and today was no exception. She tried to tell herself it was because she had felt bad for having ditched Doug. His tears had been genuine, the grief he had felt over Ben’s death right there in his eyes. He clearly wanted to know what had happened as badly as she did—even if his professional manner left something to be desired.

There was still no way she was going to let him question her. She would need clearance from her handler before she could give him any of the details of her mission or tell him what she knew about Christophe Parelli.

The utter disaster the mission had turned out to be weighed on her. Apart from the fact she had the hard drive, everything that could have gone wrong had. Hiding the hard drive from Doug had been necessary, though apparently pointless since he’d known what she was after.

Now she needed to go through the contents before anything else went awry—like being hauled in for questioning by the army.

Christophe’s death played like a movie reel through her mind. Maybe she didn’t need to feel bad since the man was responsible for the deaths of so many others. He had acted without remorse or any consideration for national and international laws. But seeing him gasp his last breath had hit Sabine at the very center of who she was.

Her house was dark and quiet, except for the patter of rain against the windows. That wasn’t anything new—the Seattle weather or the solitude. Even when she was married, Sabine would come home to an empty house and dinner for one.

What she had thought was her husband’s work as an investment banker keeping him busy with “late-night meetings” turned out to be Maxwell having drinks with his twenty-two-year-old secretary. Now Sabine was as alone as ever but with the added bonus of feeling like a chump because her husband had cheated on her with someone younger and prettier. She would think twice about letting anyone else in again.

She punched the first two numbers of her ten-digit code on the panel for the security system and paused. It wasn’t armed. That was weird. She’d set it before she left, hadn’t she? She never forgot something as important as security. Sabine set down her suitcase at the bottom of the stairs and stood still for a moment. The house was quiet as always.

After a walk-through of the downstairs rooms yielded nothing, Sabine crept upstairs, keeping to the side so as not to step on the creaky stair halfway up. Cold shimmered through her from head to toe. She had never needed a gun at home before. Her handler’s words from the park came back to her.

Don’t get caught with a gun. Ever. And don’t get caught by the police, not even for a speeding ticket. You do and you’re on your own.

Careful not to look at the pictures of Ben on the wall, Sabine rounded the stairs at the top and studied the upstairs hallway. Her ears strained for...a rustle coming from Ben’s bedroom.

The door to her brother’s room had been closed since his last day of leave and his subsequent return to base. He’d always been sort of juvenile about her going into his room, a response probably from the lack of privacy they’d had in foster homes. She’d respected his wishes and had agreed not to go in there.

Light flashed across the opening, and Sabine crept forward. She peered into the room and eased the door open inch by inch.

A black balaclava covered the intruder’s face, leaving only his eyes visible. It was definitely a guy, judging by the shape of his wiry body. The efficiency with which he worked his way through Ben’s belongings told her that he was a professional. This wasn’t just some teenager looking to score.

He slammed the dresser drawer shut and yanked open the next one. A gun wouldn’t scare off this guy and would likely raise more questions than she was okay with when she had to explain a dead body to the police.

She would have to rely on her CIA training.

Sabine took a deep breath and rushed him. He looked up a split second before she slammed into him with the force of her body and knocked him off balance. The guy twisted so she was the one who hit the floor and the back of her head slammed against the carpet.

Before she could react, his hands were on her neck. She tried to push him off, but his weight and the pressure on her windpipe made her see stars.

The doorbell rang downstairs.

With shaky hands she found his shoulders, then his face, where she applied pressure with her thumbs until he cried out. She kicked off the floor hard enough to dislodge him and dove for the dresser top for something to use as a weapon. Two arms locked around her waist and lifted her off her feet. Sabine cried out and was dragged backward.

A loud thud came from downstairs. “Sabine!”

She struggled against her captor. Strength bled from her like water down the drain but she lifted her legs and slammed until she made contact with the intruder’s shins. He let go of her and collapsed to his knees.

Boots pounded up the stairs.

Sabine spun and caught the intruder with a kick to the side of his head. The pain in her twisted ankle nearly buckled her legs, but she followed up with a solid punch. The guy still hadn’t gone down. In fact, he was regrouping.

The bedroom door swung open, hit the wall and bounced back. Doug filled the doorway. Despite the fact that she’d left him in the Dominican Republic, something inside her leapt at the thought that he’d come to help her, not interrogate her.

The intruder took one look at Doug and sprinted for the window. The smash was deafening. Sabine ran over and looked out, but he was already up on his feet and running across the lawn. Rain sprayed in through the open window and Sabine backed up from the broken glass.

Doug’s phone beeped.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m calling the cops. What do you think I’m doing?”

Sabine tried to grab the phone, but he refused to let go of it. All the warmth she’d felt when he burst in like some kind of knight of yore here to save the princess in distress deflated like a pricked balloon. He was trying to tell her what to do again.

“No cops. There are too many things I don’t care to explain about my life or why someone would break into my home.” She lost her grip on the phone then, probably because it was soaked, like Doug’s leather jacket, jeans and wool hat. “How long were you outside? You’re drenched.”

“How long does it take to cross the street?” He folded his arms.

Sabine loved the sound of leather crackling.

“Nice weather you guys have here.”

“I like it. It discourages lingering.”

He grinned. “Kind of antisocial, aren’t you?”

“Why are you here?”

Instead of answering, he turned away, and Sabine followed him to the garage where he rummaged around her damp Cadillac and came up with a hammer, some spare pieces of two-by-fours Ben had left and a box of nails.

She stood at the bottom of the stairs, tapping her foot—even though it hurt. Halfway up he looked back over his shoulder. “I don’t suppose you’ll accept saving you from an intruder as an answer.”

“Not likely, since I had it handled.” Sort of.

As nice as it would be to believe he’d come here to help, he couldn’t have known she’d need saving from an intruder at that very moment. Since Doug was busy fixing her window, Sabine headed into the kitchen for some water and to raid her stash of painkillers. She didn’t dare sit. What little strength kept her upright now would dissipate, and she’d be asleep in thirty seconds. While she was incapacitated, Doug would probably throw her over his shoulder and take her to whoever he reported to for that questioning he’d threatened her with.

No, it wouldn’t do to let her guard down.

Upstairs she could hear the thud of the hammer. The last time he’d been in this kitchen with her—at Ben’s memorial service—he’d been nice. Now he was being nice again, helping her. He probably thought she couldn’t have fixed it herself. He’d be right. She was so drained it was tough to think straight.

Was he friend or foe? Doug acted like he cared. Then in her hotel room he had seemed so determined to find out what had happened to Ben that he was like a runaway train. Nothing would keep him from getting what he wanted.

She was a workaholic, but it seemed more like Doug lived and breathed the army. Now that this particular mission had become personal, there was nothing he wouldn’t do.

Sticking around was a bad idea.

Sabine had just about summoned up the strength to figure out where her purse was when Doug reappeared, wiping his hands on the leg of his jeans.

“Thinking about running again?”

“I was—” Her voice gave out. Sabine touched her throat. It was tender from the intruder’s grip. She sucked in a deep breath. In that moment it was all she had the strength to accomplish.

“Sabine.”

His voice sounded far away, like he was speaking underwater.

The floor swept up toward her, and Sabine descended into darkness.

* * *

Doug caught her before she hit the floor and lifted her into the cradle of his arms. She weighed more than he thought. Tall and slender, Sabine was lean with muscle. Strong. The woman might have an iron core, but his heart had been in his throat since he’d been on her doorstep and heard her cry out over the sound of wind and rain.

After he had kicked the door in and pounded up the stairs, he’d been scared to death he’d find her dead on the floor. Instead, Sabine had put up a valiant fight against her assailant. Now rather than being outside searching for the guy who’d had the audacity to put his hands on Sabine—Doug had seen the marks on her throat—he carried her upstairs.

Doug set her down on the bed and removed her boots. Her ankle was puffy and swollen, but her breaths were deep and steady. He wrapped her in the comforter, turned on the bedside lamp and left the door ajar in case she cried out.

He sighed and lowered himself to the top step in the dark. He had to get a handle on his emotions. He couldn’t freak out like that every time Sabine was in danger.

Pictures lined the wall, all the way down the stairs. He didn’t need light to see the images of Ben at Little League or Ben wearing a tux as he walked Sabine down the aisle. She was divorced now. Ben had revealed that much about his sister, though none of the actual details—so long as you didn’t count the way his lip curled when he mentioned Sabine’s now ex-husband.

All Doug wanted was to find out who had killed Ben and why. After that he wouldn’t have to wonder where she was or what she was doing...or if she wondered the same thing about him. Or what that sadness behind her eyes was.

His phone hummed. “Richardson.”

“You got her?” The voice was gruff and full of authority, the voice of his commanding officer, Colonel Hiller.

“Found her fighting off an intruder in her house. Soon as she comes around, we’ll be on our way.”

There was a noncommittal noise. “She okay?”

Doug stood. He stretched out his back and made his way down the stairs. “She took some hits, but mostly she’s just exhausted.”

“I’m not surprised. That girl’s one busy little beaver. Been up to all kinds of things since Sergeant Laduca died.”

Doug’s heart clenched at the memory of Ben bleeding out in his arms and forced himself to focus instead on his commanding officer’s words. “She has?”

“Stuck her nose into classified records, for one thing. Girl’s got a lot to answer for. The least of which being who she works for.”

Doug found a diet soda in the fridge. It would have to do. “She’s CIA.”

“Not according to anyone I spoke to. Once upon a time, sure. They hired her, trained her and sent her on missions. A half dozen years ago she went off the grid. Disappeared, and the only thing she left behind was a pool of blood.”

“She’s some kind of rogue ex-CIA agent? Are you serious?” Then he remembered who he was talking to. “Excuse me, Colonel. I’m just having trouble assimilating this. She was kind of stuck-up about the CIA thing. If she works for someone else, she must be the best actress in the world.” He thought for a second. “Did you tell the CIA we found her?”

“They’re not stupid. Mostly. They’ll figure out why I was asking about her, even though I did my best to keep it to vague questions. Hopefully it’ll buy us time.”

Doug tapped his finger on the side of the sweating can of soda. He wasn’t going to tell Sabine what they’d found out. He’d probe instead with the hope that she would share of her own volition. Had Ben known she was a rogue agent? Doug had to get to the bottom of this before it all broke loose.

If she had betrayed the CIA and gone to work for the enemy six years ago, the CIA would have her on all kinds of watch lists. To have hidden her location and still be going on missions, fooling everyone left, right and center, meant she must be an exceptional spy. That or she worked for some very bad people...with very deep pockets.

A rogue CIA agent?

Doug sighed and ran a hand down his face.

“Get some answers, Sergeant Major. I expect to hear from you bright and early.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And call your dad.”

Doug groaned.

“The old man knows you’re back in the States. He’s expecting your call.”

The line went dead. Colonel Hiller wasn’t one for goodbyes or any kind of politeness that could be expected from a fellow human being, but his record as an officer was so impressive; he was already a legend at forty-six. He’d earned his rank the hard way, from the ground up—ground soaked with his own sweat and blood.

Doug found a can of soup in the cupboard and set about heating it up on the stove. He scrolled through his contacts, found “Andrew” and pressed Send, intending to leave a voice mail.

“General Richardson’s residence.”

Doug smiled at the sound of the housekeeper’s voice. “Hey, Jean. I take it he’s still up since it’s after midnight, yet you’re answering the phone.”

The fluffy middle-aged lady laughed like Doug’s old Sunday school teacher. “How are you, honey?”

“I’m doing fine, Jean. Thank you.”

“Well, you know I worry about you. Did you get those cookies I sent?”

“I did, yeah. They were good. The guys loved them.” He’d made sure to set aside some of the two dozen for himself.

“I should think so.”

Doug laughed. The lightness in him stretched and grew, even with such a small connection with someone who had nothing to do with the war he seemed to always be fighting.

“My grandmother’s secret recipe. Did you know she fought her way out of Nazi Germany with nothing but her recipe card box and her knitting needles?”

Laughter built up in his chest but didn’t spill out. “That’s a good story. You should stick with it.”

“I’ll do that. I’ll put you through to your dad now, honey.”

“Thanks, Jean.”

There was a pause, and then a man’s voice came over the line. “That you, son?” It was a voice that had both commanded troops and yelled at his teenage boy to straighten his room.

Doug sighed. “Yeah, Dad, it’s me.”

“It’s about time. Did you think I’d settle for you checking in over voice mail forever?”

Doug’s chest tightened until it ached. He should pay the old man a visit soon. “It’s late. I should probably let you get to bed.”

“Don’t even try it. This is a momentous occasion. I actually got you on the phone. You think I’m just going to let you say goodbye in two seconds? Besides, isn’t there something you want to tell me?”

Doug sighed, loud enough for his dad to hear. Of course he’d make him say it. “Happy birthday.”

“You want to make it happy? You show up at my birthday party on Saturday. You wear a tux. You smile. You tell me that you’re letting this whole business go.” His voice broke. “I want to see you get on with your life, Douglas. Find a woman. Get married, and make me a grandfather already. I’m getting old.”

Before the general was finished, Doug was already shaking his head. “I would if I could, but I can’t. Not until I find out who killed Ben.”

“It’s not just me. You know it’s what your mother would have wanted.”

“Oh, sure.” Doug sighed. “Bring up Mom and how she’d be so disappointed in my behavior.” His dad did it because it worked. Doug would never have willingly disappointed his mother.

The general huffed. “Always were too hard on yourself.”

“This isn’t just about me.”

“I get it, son. I do.” Fatigue clouded the old man’s voice. “You want justice for your friend so your team can go on.”

“And for his sister.”

“You want to protect her.”

“She’s strong, but she still seems so...fragile.”

There was quiet for a moment and then the general asked, “Is she pretty?”

“Dad.”

“Fine, fine. You do what you need to do, son. But when you’re done, you come see me, you hear?” The general waited a beat. “I miss you.”

Doug pressed End and lowered the phone. “I miss you, too.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.