Page 19 of Elusive Promise

"Yes, I've spoken to the authorities, and there are multiple agencies looking for Sara and Isaac. I'm not sure who's aware of Ben's relationship with Sara, but I assume I'm not the only one who knows Sara was dating Ben in Paris. They were not in hiding. They went on picnics by the Eiffel Tower, went dancing at night, like two young lovers."

"Who do you work for, Jared?"

"I work for myself. I'm a freelance journalist."

She sighed. "I can believe you're freelance, because you seem very comfortable operating off the radar, but I don't believe you're a journalist. Or, you're notjusta journalist."

"Well, I don't believe you're a translator, orjusta translator. But we can still work together, Parisa."

"How would we do that?" she asked.

"I'd like you to talk to Ben, use your family connection to get in the door, maybe get me in the door. Ben won't know you have any idea that he could be involved in the Paris bombing."

"I'm not against helping to determine whether Ben was involved in a terrorist attack in Paris, but my priority right now is finding Jasmine."

"The events could be connected. Brothers of the Earth originated in Bezikstan. Have you heard of them?"

"I've heard the name, but I haven't been following politics in Bezikstan." She paused, her lips tightening. "Here's the problem—I just don't trust you, Jared MacIntyre—if that's even your real name."

"Jared is my name. And you don't have to trust me. You just have to trust your instincts."

"My instincts are telling me that probably every other word out of your mouth has been a lie."

"At least some of my words are true," he said lightly. "Don't forget I've saved your life twice."

"How could I forget when you keep reminding me?"

"That was the last time."

"Sure." She pushed her plate away. "Okay. Here's the deal. I need to drop out of sight for a while."

He liked that she was moving on to more practical matters. "I have the perfect place."

"I also need to pick up a prepaid phone, but I don't have any money. My purse is still at the consulate."

"I can help you out. Should I call you Officer or Special Agent or what?"

"Parisa works." She paused, giving him a hard look. "I want to make something else perfectly clear, Jared. If you are playing me, you will not be happy with my response."

Purposeful fire burned in her dark eyes, and his gut clenched with inexplicable desire. Since the first moment he'd seen her, he'd felt like he'd been sucker-punched. Even now, bruised and exhausted, she was stunning, and he was swimming into dangerous waters. This beautiful woman had a ruthless—possibly deadly—side. On the other hand, so did he.

"That goes both ways," he told her, then extended his hand across the table. "Shall we shake on it?"

She slid her hand into his, and he held on to her fingers for seconds too long, feeling again that odd sense of intense connection. He didn't know her. She didn't know him. They were both probably lying about a lot of things. But there was some innate truth between them.

One of these days, he'd figure out what that truth was.

Five

After leaving the diner, they picked up a prepaid phone at a drugstore, and then Jared drove her to an apartment building in Midtown Manhattan, parking in the underground garage. They took the elevator to the sixteenth floor and stepped into a one-bedroom unit that looked like it had been professionally decorated. The hardwood floors were slick and smooth. Recessed lights cast a beautiful glow over the gray sectional couch, black coffee table, and entertainment center. The adjacent kitchen gleamed with new appliances that were top of the line.

Peeking into the bedroom, she saw a king-sized bed with a black bedframe, matching tables, and some books on the nightstand. The way the books were situated felt more like décor than books that were actually being read. Also, notably, there were no personal items in the apartment: no photographs on the walls, no shoes kicked off by the coffee table, no used coffee mugs, or even an old magazine.

As she moved back into the middle of the living room, she glanced out the windows, taking in a rather amazing view of Chelsea and the Hudson River. Turning back to Jared, she said, "This is much nicer than the last safe house I was in."

"It's not a safe house. This is my apartment."

"It doesn't feel like you actually live here."

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