Page 91 of Dangerous Devotion

He shifted his shoulder in a small shrug as if passing a bomb to an unknown person was an everyday transaction.

Hell, for all she knew, it was for him. How many deals had he taken?

Her stomach soured…then gave a little twist of fear.

Their plan to intercept the bomb had failed. Two things sent icy dread into her gut—the target was unknown…and the clock was ticking.

She raised her chin a notch. “Then at least tell me who you’re working for.”

He issued a low chuckle. The familiarity of the sound broke her out in chills that swept from the top of her head to her toes curled inside her boots.

“It’s my turn.”

She waited.

“How did you know about the bomb?”

“We had knowledge that it was headed to Fort Leonard Wood. Why are you working for Cipher?”

Dropping that name had exactly the effect she hoped for. Simpson flinched, a ruddy splotch climbing up from the collar of his uniform shirt and tie to flood his cheeks.

With remorse? Shame? Maybe regret?

He had been squatting before her, but now he sat down hard on the concrete, legs sticking out in front of him. He bowed his head.

“I cheated on my wife.”

“On Kate?” God, of all the things she expected to hear from the man about his connection to a known terrorist, it wasn’t that he’d been unfaithful.

“I loved her.” His tone didn’t break, but he wouldn’t meet May’s eyes. “I screwed up and when she found out, she left me.”

“But how did you bury all of this? The military—”

“Has a morality clause? Yeah, it would have ruined me. Working for Cipher allowed me the money to pay Kate to keep quiet about going our separate ways.” He pushed out a slow sigh. “The art is nice, you know? It feeds the soul that I lost, given all I had to do.”

At this point, he looked up at May. The cold flicker of evil in his eyes turned her stomach to water, and it swirled down a slow drain.

She scooted back along the floor. Prepared to run for the door. Could she whip the metal door up high enough to roll underneath and make a break for it? A scream gathered in her throat.

Simpson pulled out a pistol. Small, military-issue. And completely terrifying for what he intended to do with it.

“Shaw. Stop. You can’t do this. You aren’t a killer. You know me, my family. You fish with my father and my uncles.” On every word, her voice rose higher, grew shriller. She worked to get her feet under her.

Simpson leaped up, staring down the sight of the weapon aimed at her.

She shrieked. The long, curdling noise mixed with the metallic one of the door exploding.

Shockwaves from the blast vibrated through the metal wall at her back and the concrete under her. She threw her arms over her head…

Then another set of arms surrounded her, drawing her tight against a body she knew.

“AJ!”

“Get her out,” he commanded a man in camo she recognized from Charlie.

The SEAL scooped her off the floor and rushed out the ruined door with her. She struggled. “He has a gun! He has a gun!” She kicked frantically in the SEAL’s hold. “Put me down!”

He twisted with her in his hold enough that she could see AJ and the major general, face to face.

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