Page 9 of Laura's Truth

He wanted to shout and threaten, if only as a release valve for the constant pressure simmering in his blood. But that kind of tantrum would fall on deaf ears. The woman was nothing but ice-cold logic. She hadn’t even flinched when his knife had rested against her skin. Hadn’t batted an eye when he’d disarmed her.

He didn’t like being impressed.

In the years since his less than permanent death, he’d researched the documentation of the mission that irrevocably altered his life. He’d hacked his way into every report and chased the rumors through a maze of bureaucracy and red tape. Drew knew full well Ross Carpenter, the leader of the Special Forces team assisting Drew on the op, blamed him for the casualties. As he’d healed, he’d researched the pertinent players and learned the counterintelligence analyst assigned to review the events, Laura Talbot, had cleared Carpenter of any complicity or fault.

Smart woman.

He’d read the report. The one where she formally held Drew liable, believing he’d somehow fallen victim to his own plans to double-cross an asset and taken three innocent soldiers along with him to the grave. If only it had been that simple.

“I found your cell number and made contact,” he said. “The shooter probably traced the GPS signal on your device. That’s why it needs to go.”

“I’m not giving you any more advantage. Why don’t you toss the phone you used to lead me into your ambush?”

He snorted. “Now who’s being dramatic?”

“Compromise. I’ll turn it off and take out the battery.”

He watched her do both, putting the pieces in separate pockets of her jacket. Away from any immediate threat, he finally noticed she was dressed like a government agent. Dark jacket and slacks, pale blouse, and close-toed shoes. Christ. No wonder they’d been spotted.

“Not good enough.”

“It will have to be. I’m not surrendering my phone before you do.”

“I pitched mine before we got into the cab.” Her eyes narrowed with irritation. “Oh, did you miss that move? Guess you were wrong and my skills are as sharp as ever.”

“Show me,” she said.

“The move? Sure.” He deliberately misunderstood her, holding out his open palm once more. “But I’ll need a phone for effect.”

She rolled her eyes, refusing to cooperate. He could push, take the phone by force, but a display like that would only make them more memorable for the driver. He didn’t want anyone else in the area remembering his face. He definitely didn’t want the blood of any more innocents on his hands.

As they merged with the interstate traffic heading away from Charleston, he relaxed a bit. Giving her a fraction of an inch, he sorted through his dwindling options. “Where were you staying in Charleston?”

“I wasn’t,” she replied. “You?”

He didn’t believe her. She was hedging. Maybe she hadn’t been staying within city limits, but she must have a room close by. “I was at a bed and breakfast on the Battery.”

“How nice for you.”

That sounded almost like envy in her voice. He didn’t peg her as the sort who enjoyed antiques and heirloom recipes or afternoons with cool lemonade on a shady veranda. “It’s paid up for a week if you want to go back and hide out with me,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Be serious.”

“Okay. Seriously,” he leaned close to her so the driver wouldn’t overhear, “staying in a B&B makes it harder for assassins to sneak up on me,” he explained. She smelled good and he wondered if it was shampoo or their escape through the fragrant flowers in the churchyard.

She scooted away from him. “I’ll take your word.”

“You’d be the first in a long while.”

He felt her studying him while he kept his gaze on the view through the windshield. The airport, a rental car, and time and space to regroup. It was the safest play. Safe wasn’t typically his style, but he needed more intel before he could continue.

“Why come to Charleston now?”

“I’ve always heard it’s lovely in June.”

She stared him down.

“My cousin’s getting married,” he said, knowing she wouldn’t believe him.

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