Page 42 of Protected Hearts

Oaks was already working on it, hunched over the desk. Sitting was out of the question. He had too much energy. They were so close.

They spotted it at the same time. “Russian. See the tat?” Oaks breathed.

Carson nodded. “Now we need to follow that guy through the channels. See who he reported to about that kill.”

They worked into the afternoon. Oaks’s eyes grew gritty from staring at a screen. When he dug his thumb and forefinger into them to clear them, stars skittered across his vision.

“Oaks.” Carson’s low tone made him look up.

One look at his brother and he knew he had something. Something important.

This time, he rounded the desk to peer at the monitor. In a single look, all the pieces clicked into place.

“He reported to a Russian woman.”

“Yeah…an agent for the CIA who spends a lot of time in Russia. Something tells me that she’s dirty.”

Oaks’s stomach dropped as reality set in. The first handler had been careful not to give Shiloh his name. The second wasn’t nearly so concerned—because her name was a fake.

“She’s a Russian plant.”

“That’s what it looks like to me.”

The documentation on the screen was vague, but Oaks had spent enough time in the military to read between the lines.

He raked his fingers through his hair. “Christ. Shiloh has been able to evade detection for the past six months. Not only did she get away from William on her own…” He met Carson’s eyes. “She’s been evading a Russian assassin for six months without even knowing it.”

“It’s pure luck. And I think hers is about to run out.”

Oaks clenched his hands into fists. “If that’s the case, I’ll just have to step up my game to keep her safe.”

Chapter Ten

Shiloh shifted nervously in the saddle and clutched the reins tightly as the steady bay gelding plodded along the path. The day was gray but not overly chilly, and while clouds scudded across the sky, it didn’t rain.

Atop his own mount at her side, Colt glanced over. “Relax your hands. You’ve got it. Let Dusty do the work.”

Should she look at how Colt held the reins so she could copy him? Looking away from the track ahead of her felt like she’d lose control. “I feel like a new driver.”

He chuckled, the low tone too much like Oaks’s for her body not to react. At the thought of her bodyguard and sort-of husband, some of the tension eased from her shoulders. She forced her fingers to loosen on the reins.

“What if Dusty decides he wants to gallop off?”

“Then you hold on tight.” His lips curved on one side into a smile.

She was a good judge of character and from the first second she met Colt, she saw that he was probably more nervous about being saddled with a stranger than she was at being the baggage. He didn’t want to be out here riding trails with his brother’s fake wife. Who could blame him? He was just doing Oaks a favor, getting her out from under his feet so he and Carson could discuss everything she’d told him.

“I’m only joking. Dusty doesn’t gallop these days.” Colt kept pace with her.

“Why not?”

“He’s old. I keep him exercised so he doesn’t get too stiff with arthritis, but not even a carrot dangled in front of his nose would make that horse gallop.”

Feeling a measure more comfortable, she relaxed enough to chat with Oaks’s brother. “Sorry for the nerves. This wasn’t my lifestyle—ranches and horses.”

“It isn’t for many who come here. But it’s good for the vets.”

“I can see that. It’s peaceful.” She looked along Dusty’s long neck and over his ears at the landscape. The dim day had leeched light from all the colors, making them appear muted mustard yellow instead of gold and burnt orange instead of the rich brown earth of the trail.

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