Page 137 of Covert Mission

We stare at each other for a beat, across the steam coming from our plates. “I feel the same. Now eat.”

The thief of my heart dives into her meal, a small smile on her face as she enjoys the delicious food. I eat heartily, knowing we’ve got a long night ahead, we should get back to Santa Rosa, so we can get this case of hers wrapped up.

I’ve got some calls to make. Including one to my former commander, Nighthawk.

ChapterForty-Five

I almost feel peaceful inside. But I know it’s temporary. Lucas is quiet the rest of dinner. He eats with determination, but something has dragged him into a recess in his brain.

After he slides his credit card out of the leather bill holder and signs the receipt, he turns his gaze to mine.

I finally ask one of the questions that’s been riding me since I met Lucas. “Why are you so determined to help me?”

He taps a finger on the table for a few seconds. “It’s complicated.”

I should just accept that. Instead, I tell him what I think is the cause. “Something happened in your past that makes you feel responsible for other people.”

As Lucas toys with the handle of a spoon he didn’t use, he recedes further into the caverns of his mind.

The murmurs of a distant conversation drift to us. I wait, as the candle on our table flickers. The silence between us growing more and more unnerving.

He flips the spoon over a few times and looks uncomfortable when he speaks. “There’s something you should know.”

My mind circles back to what Truck asked me. He wanted to know if I’d talked to Lucas about his past.

Dread trickles down my spine like cold fingers. I brace, unsure of what’s coming.

Softly, I encourage him. “I told you about my baggage, it’s okay to tell me about yours.”

“I’ve had a fucked up past when it comes to women.”

This announcement sends a cold shiver through me. “As in?”

He scrubs a hand over his jaw. “Maybe this is a conversation for our drive. Ready to go?”

When he stands up, he offers a hand.

I’ll admit, I’m nervous when I lay mine in his. Whatever he’s got to say must be deeply personal or very troubling. Or both.

My mind goes to the scars on his body. Are they related?

After we leave the restaurant, Lucas drives us away from the beach. The sky is inky. Inside the truck is a comfortable cocoon. I wish we could stay in it forever.

Lucas drives with one hand on the wheel, the other in his lap, as if nothing about the narrow, curvy road bothers him.

I envy that calm. It seems like I’m always drowning in chaos on the inside. Especially so right now.

This has to be about a woman in his past.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.”

“No, I do. You need to know, and you need to decide if you can accept me after you hear about the things I have to say.”

But he falls silent again.

I want to scream at him for making me wait.

I’m biting my lip when he glances at me.

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