Page 7 of Dangerous Protocol

“Hello, Jeffrey.” She finally broke the unsettling silence between them.

Her concern for his reaction at seeing her after twelve years was there in the tightness around her mouth and the guarded look in her eyes.

“Maya.” With a nonchalance he didn’t feel, he tucked his hands in his front pockets. “This is certainly a surprise.”

He didn’t say another word. Were there things he wanted to say to her? Things he wanted to ask her? Hell, yes, but she’d initiated contact and would have to be the one to kick things off.

Besides, he wasn’t in the mood to make things easier for her.

“I need …” She glanced around and hiked the strap of her backpack higher on her shoulder. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”

“I don’t—”

“Maybe to the coffee shop?” She pointed over her shoulder. “Please, Jeffrey.”

“I would think you’ve had enough coffee for one day,” he said.

“I should have anticipated you would be aware of my presence.” She looked down for a few seconds, then back up at him. “I need your help.”

“Why me?” He removed his hands from his pockets and crossed his arms. “Why not just ask your buddies at MI6 to help you?”

“I … well …” She drew back her shoulders. “I am no longer with MI6.”

He knew that much because, like a stupid, lovesick teenager, he’d tried to find her, but she’d simply vanished. His kneejerk response was to send her away, to tell her she was on her own to deal with whatever her problem was, but curiosity overruled his emotions.

Jeffrey dragged the cuff of his coat up to reveal his watch.

“I’ll give you ten minutes.” He turned, checked both ways for vehicles, then started across the street, careful to avoid the icy patches.

Maya hurried to catch up, and he opened the coffee shop door for her. He might be pissed at her, but his mother had raised him to be a gentleman. They placed their orders, and she rushed over to sit in the seat near the window, the one with its back against the wall.

Old habits die hard.

She set her backpack on the floor beneath the table and peeled her coat off her shoulders to let it drape over the back of her chair.

Jeffrey didn’t bother to remove his coat. Hopefully, this wouldn’t take long.

They sat in silence until the barista called their name. Once they had their beverages, Maya wrapped her hands around her cup as if to warm them.

He used the time to give her a good once-over.

The golden blond hair he’d tangled around his hands during sex was now a deep brown and much longer than before. Her blue eyes were concealed behind brown contacts, and Maria had been right about the eyeglasses—they weren’t prescription lenses. She was thin, almost to the point of gaunt, and wore black leggings tucked into hiking boots with a dark green shirt that appeared to be too big for her. The soft, curvy figure he’d wrapped himself around all those years ago was more angular, and he couldn’t help wonder what had been happening in her life to cause such a change.

Her knee bobbed up and down, and her fingertip tappedtink tink tinkagainst the ceramic mug as she stared out the window. Uncharacteristic behavior from the woman he’d watched hold her own against men at the highest levels of the international intelligence community.

Jeffrey blew across the top of his coffee, waiting for her to talk. A few minutes passed, and he checked his watch.

“Time’s up.” He slid his mug away and started to stand.

“No, wait!” Her hand shot out, and she wrapped her long fingers around his forearm.

Damn, she was fast.

Jeffrey looked down at her hand, then up at her eyes.

“Please.” It was the desperation in that one word that had him sitting back down.

She released his arm and said, “I need your help finding my daughter.”

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