Page 12 of Trust No One

“I’ll interfere every day to have your back.” He leaned closer. “I would never put your life at risk, Mel.”

He flopped back in the uncomfortable chair. Her words hurt. He’d never lied to Mel. Not once. He’d been straight with her from the beginning. And when he’d dumped her? He’d done it as soon as she’d said those three dangerous words.

He didn’t believe in love. Long before he’d met Mel, he’d sworn he’d never love anyone. Or let anyone love him. It was easier that way. More fun. Kept him footloose and fancy free. Good-time Charlie, that was him. And he liked his life that way.

He sat up straight and held her gaze. “You want to know if I’ve actually met Simon? Shoot him an email. Ask him if he knows me. If we’ve worked together. The answer will be yes.”

Wrenching her gaze away from his, Mel moved a pen around on the desk. Lined it up with the edge of the large pad of paper she kept in front of her. She swallowed once, then finally lifted her head and met his gaze.

“I’ll contact him,” she said. “Introduce myself and tell him who I am. Ask him if he’d be willing to talk to me about a national security concern if I came to Washington.” She swallowed again. “And I’ll mention that I’m bringing you with me. We’ll see what he has to say.”

“So you’re going to use me to get Livingston to agree to meet with you?”

“Hell, no. I’ll tell him who I am. Including your name is merely a courtesy to let him know I won’t be alone.”

Dev leaned back and laced his fingers together behind his head. “It’s okay, Mel. You can use my name to get in to see Simon. I don’t mind.”

Her jaw worked, and he stopped himself before he slid the chair backward. Farther away from her. He’d poked the bear, and now Mel was enraged. Nothing good happened when her eyes narrowed liked that and her lips clamped together.

Finally he stood up. Headed for the door. “Let me know what Livingston has to say about meeting with us.” He stepped into the hall and closed the door quietly.

From inside the office, he heard the sound of something solid hitting the wall, and he moved away quickly. When Mel started to throw things? A smart man disappeared.

* * *

Mel closed her eyes and reached for her composure. Took deep breaths until her heart rate slowed. Then she stood and bent to pick up the book on unconventional warfare that she’d heaved at the wall. She checked to make sure she hadn’t broken the binding, then slid it into the empty spot on her bookshelf where she’d removed it this morning.

Devlin Smith was the most exasperating, irritating man in the history of men. And she’d let him get to her.

Throwing herself back into her chair, she tilted back and studied the ceiling. Dev claimed he knew Simon Livingston. It would be easy enough to verify that claim, but she didn’t bother. He might be a horndog, he might have broken her heart, but Dev wouldn’t have said he knew Livingston if it wasn’t true. He knew she’d check. She knew he’d been telling the truth, but she’d wanted to yank his chain. A tiny payback for the way he’d broken her heart.

It took her most of the afternoon to compose an email to Livingston. She erased too many emails to count. Finally, she was confident her final draft was workable.

She’d introduced herself to the guy. Gave him her work history with the CIA, including her time in Kabul. And she told him she’d like to talk to him about a CIA employee she was investigating.

She told him Devlin Smith, her business partner, would be with her, even though she clenched her teeth as she called him that. And, finally, she told him they’d come to Washington D.C. at his convenience, and they’d meet with him at a place of his choosing.

Then, after reading it one last time and being comfortable with what’d she’d written, she hit send before she could change her mind or edit it any further.

Chapter 5

Once Mel hit send on the email to Simon Livingston, she wanted to stare at her computer until she saw a return email from him. But that was the path to madness, so she forced herself to turn off her computer. She stood up and walked to her wall safe, punched in the combination, then swung it open and reached for her Glock 19. The Glock had been her service weapon when she was with the CIA, and since she was comfortable with it, it was easy to conceal, and the barrel was threaded so it could hold a suppressor, she’d bought her own when she left the Company.

She pulled it out, along with a box of ammunition, then closed her safe, locked her office and headed for the shooting range.

After firing all fifty rounds in the box, she was confident she hadn’t lost her touch with the Glock. Every shot had clustered in the center mass, no matter how far away the target had been. She retrieved the target, nodded as she studied it, then wadded it up and tossed it in the trash can.

As she turned and headed toward the door, she stopped short when she saw Dev leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He pushed away from the wall and nodded at her. “Pretty sweet shooting, Mel,” he said. “I’m impressed.”

“Oh, thank God,” she said, slapping one hand over her chest. “I’d have been devastated if I hadn’t gotten your seal of approval.”

He rolled his eyes. “Smart ass.”

“What are you doing here, anyway?” she asked him, irritated that she hadn’t sensed his presence behind her. Although maybe she should be relieved that her sixth sense about Dev had vanished.

“I heard someone shooting in here,” he said. “Had no idea who it was, because I knew where all our agents were. So I came in to check it out. Saw your fine self in front of the target and stayed to watch. To make sure you’d be able to cover me when we go after Kingsley and his boy Larrimore.”

Mel raised one eyebrow. “You’re worried about going after Kingsley? Don’t worry, Dev. I’ll have your back.”

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