Page 16 of Elusive Promise

"I can't trust you, either." He knew her name. He knew about her job. He'd found her at the safe house.

What else did he know, and who the hell was he?

"Then why didn't you tell them about me?" he challenged.

As their gazes met, a shiver ran down her spine. It was a good question. Why hadn't she told Damon about him?

"Well?" he pressed.

"I honestly don't know. But you're right, we need to talk."

* * *

Parisa's right eye was swollen and her dark hair was a tangled mess, but her brown eyes were sharp and alert, and even in leggings, a T-shirt, and a black wool coat, she was a very attractive woman. She was also an enigma, an equation that didn't quite add up. She'd fought her attacker like a pro. And she'd handled her weapon as if it were a natural part of her. Was she really a translator for the state department?

Jared suspected she was not.

She had secrets. So did he.

He wondered who would break first.

Parisa sipped her coffee as they waited for their breakfast. She sat facing the door to the diner. The sun was starting to rise as the clock moved toward six thirty, but it was still dark outside. There were only a few other people in the restaurant: a woman in a nurse's uniform and an older man who was reading the newspaper. One waitress worked the counter while a male cook appeared to run the kitchen.

He would have preferred to be in Parisa's seat, but she'd slid in to that side of the booth before he could stop her.

"Well?" she prodded. "You said you wanted to talk, so talk."

"You said you wanted to talk, too. Why don't you begin?" he countered.

"All right. What's your last name? Were you invited to the party at the consulate or did you crash?"

"My last name is MacIntyre, and I was not technically invited to the party."

"You might want to think of a better answer. The police and FBI are going through the surveillance video from the party. I'm sure you're on it. They'll be contacting you."

"Good to know. Did you see who took Jasmine Kumar?"

She stared back at him, her gaze assessing. "Someone obviously thinks I did, based on what happened at the apartment."

"That's not an answer."

"What were you doing upstairs at the consulate?"

"I was looking for an available bathroom. The ones downstairs had long lines."

"You were wearing a black chef's coat—as if you were in disguise. I think you came up the back stairs by the kitchen."

He tipped his head. "So, you do remember something."

She frowned. "I just remembered that."

"What else?"

"I know you didn't want security to find you in the stairwell, that's why you rushed away. How did you get out of the building? Did you use the tunnel exit from the basement?"

"There's a tunnel from the basement?" he asked, preferring to get more information than he wanted to give.

"The police said the kidnappers probably took Jasmine out that way." She paused, tilting her head to the right as she gave him a speculative look. "What's your deal? Who are you? What do you want from me? How did you find me at the safe house?"

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