Page 22 of Critical Strike

He was right. She had to eat. She took a bite of her eggs, then continued to eat as he watched her like a hawk while wolfing down his own food.

He was completely finished before she’d even made it halfway through her meal—except for the piece of bacon he’d put in his napkin. She knew it was for Khan and tried to ignore the things it did to her heart that he was thinking about the well-being of her cat.

“The most important thing is to keep you alive. The people after you—they have instructions to make sure you’re not alive to talk to anyone.”

She handed him a piece of bacon to add to the collection for Khan.

“Going to the cops and raising as much ruckus about this as possible will make it harder for Ballard’s men to take you out without causing suspicion,” he continued. “Ballard is powerful, but he’s not God.”

She lifted her fork to her mouth but then set it back down without eating. There was no way she could keep it down. She wanted so badly to believe what Luke was saying.

“I’ll stay with you through it all. I’m here to help you.” He reached over and grabbed her hand, running his fingers across her knuckles.

Tears filled Claire’s eyes. “Thank you. I’ll do it. But are you sure? This is so dangerous.”

“It’s nothing I’m not used to,” he said with zero hesitation.

Claire’s laugh was ragged. She seriously doubted his workday involved running from men with assault weapons.

“You came to me for help. This is my job. And besides, it’s you.”

She didn’t have the nerve to ask what that last part meant.

She looked at what was left on her plate. “I wonder if Khan would eat the eggs. He’s not very picky. We could get a to-go box.”

Luke smiled. “Khan’s a very lucky cat-dog.”

“He’s my family. My only friend.” She cringed at her pathetic words, immediately wishing she could take them back.

“That’s not true.” Luke’s brown eyes softened, but they turned to steel a second later. His thick brows knit together, his attention on something behind her.

Turning in the booth, Claire found the TV screen mounted on the diner’s wall. It was on mute, captions scrolling the bottom of the screen while a reporter talked.

She gasped when she saw the picture in the upper corner of the screen.

It washer.

The shot was from a Passage Digital picnic a few months earlier. She wouldn’t have gone at all if it hadn’t been basically required.

Wanted for the murder of coworker...

She couldn’t stop reading the caption running under her photo.

Authorities are asking for anyone with information on Claire Wallace to contact them immediately...

Claire’s mouth filled with chalk, the food she’d eaten threatening to come back up.

“Come on,” Luke gritted out in a low voice. “We need to get out of here.”

Nobody in the diner was paying much attention to the TV or them, but all it would take was a second and they might.

“I-I...” Oh no. She was going to lose it right there in this booth.

“Look at me, Kitten.”

His words, his brown eyes, brought her back. Grounded her. “We’re going to make it through this. Keep your head down and stay close to me.”

They stood and he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. He handed her the bacon in the napkin.

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