Page 13 of Extracted

She stuck out her bottom lip a little. Enough that he wanted to lean down and pull the delicious skin into his mouth. He might be pissed at how royally she’d fucked up his job, but his dick sure as hell was slow on the uptake.

“Yes. I can’t do this anymore. For years I was too scared to leave. Now I’m scared to stay.”

He nodded. “Good. Then you’ll come with me?”

She scrunched up her face. “I appreciate the offer. I do. But I think it’s best I go my own way. They won’t be happy when they figure out I’m done. Enough people have been hurt because of me.”

He dug his fingers into her skin. He could stand being mad at her. Hell, he could even stand the chaos she’d swept into his world. He couldn’t stand her blaming herself for the bombs. “You know that wasn’t your fault.”

He had a messed up way of trying to comfort her, but until he could unbox what was going on in his head, it was the best he could do.

“Please.” She rolled her eyes and tugged her arm from his hold. “I saw the look on your face when you got here . . . the look you still have.”

He sent his gaze skyward. Breathe, Dallas. Breathe.

He shifted his attention back to her face. One expertly shaped eyebrow cocked, and her expression suggested she’d never seen a man on the cusp of a breakdown.

“Blame yourself if you want. I don’t care. But right now, I’m making plans to get out of this country and this is your last chance to come with me.”

Her expression changed. The reserved, slightly haughty Gemma fell into place. “Thanks, but no.”

He shrugged. You could lead a horse to water and all that. Besides, he was stupid to think she’d trust him now when she hadn’t throughout the years he’d gotten into her panties.

He could have helped her get away from the CIA ages ago. Not that she would’ve known that, because, as she’d said, he’d been just as tight-lipped as she had.

“All right.” He walked to the desk and picked up a pencil. Sliding the pad of hotel paper forward, he jotted down his phone number. “Not that I think you’ll call me, but you can’t say I didn’t try.”

She drummed her fingers against her elbow, which was tucked into her side. “Thanks.”

He tipped his head and turned to the door. He reached for the handle, but his hand resisted. Leaving her was wrong on so many levels. But it was time he stopped hanging on Gemma’s every move.

She was dangerous. Maybe more dangerous than he was. Maybe even more dangerous than his family.

Not walking away could be the nail in his coffin.

He yanked open the door and entered the fluorescent light of the hall.

Good luck, Gemma.

* * *

Stupid.

Why was she so stupid?

Oh, yeah. Because if she stayed with Dallas, the CIA would catch him. Charlene hadn’t divulged the kind of work Silas was into. Just that he was uberbad.

She strode barefoot around the room like a puppy waiting impatiently for its owner to return. Only Dallas wasn’t coming back.

He’d never want to see her again. Who would? After he realized she was as much to blame for the bombs as the CIA, he’d certainly find another woman to keep him busy the one night a year she visited. Sure, she hadn’t known about the bombs, but she’d done work for the agency before that was most definitely in a gray area when it came to the law.

She wasn’t naive.

She also wasn’t a newbie. There were questions she could have asked. Signs she could have looked for. Instead, she’d turned a blind eye. Bending over for Dallas in a closet at the first sight of him had surely numbed some of her senses.

Sighing, she dropped onto the bed. Her gaze drifted to the pad of paper and, like a toddler drawn to a cookie jar, she reached for it.

Ten digits were scrawled in lead. He hadn’t written his name. Just the numbers. She picked up the paper and studied the sequence.

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