Page 40 of One Knight Stand

She sighed. Here was the crux of the problem. Not that she blamed him. His colleague and best friend had been killed, possibly murdered by people in the same organization where she worked, he’d lost the last fourteen years of his life living on the lam, and there’d been a recent kidnapping attempt on his daughter’s life. The Department of Justice’s deal with him had been sabotaged. She’d have to proceed carefully.

Trust is a two-way street. How do I know you have proof and not just allegations? There are no guarantees here. I assure you, I intend to continue my own investigation, which is dangerous in its own way. But I need you to gather and prepare your proof points as well. Criminal intent or involvement is key. We have to work carefully, in tandem, and methodically.

She sent the text, rereading it and hoping the tone and words were right. She’d been sincere, but she had to impress on him the importance of evidence.

I will get you the proof you need, but you must act quickly. We’re out of time.

Why the new sense of agency? She put down her mug and texted back.

Why are we out of time?

She waited, but no response was forthcoming. She was just about to put away her phone, assuming he was no longer interested in talking, when the text came in.

I can’t tell you now, but either we are able to resolve this quickly or people will die.

She frowned. Who would die? Was he implying that there was another terrorist threat, or was he referring to someone else, like himself?

She wasn’t sure what had prompted the urgency and what it meant, but she was going to have to find some allies, and fast. This had reached a point where she had to confide in someone. But who? It was clear that lives were at stake, maybe even her own. She found it ironic she was faced with the same problem as Sinclair.

Who couldshetrust at NSA?

Chapter Twenty-Two

ANGEL SINCLAIR

The smell of bacon is a hard-wired alarm in my genome.

It was late morning when I finally regained consciousness. I might have still been sleeping, but the bacon caused me to wake up sniffing and hoping there would still be some left for me.

I was alone in the bedroom, which meant Mr. Toodles and Frankie had already abandoned me for the bacon. As I dressed, I could hear quiet voices murmuring in the kitchen. When I walked in, the talking stopped. A quick count of the people in the kitchen and adjoining dining/living room confirmed everyone was awake except for Wally. Thank goodness, I wasn’t the last to get up.

“Good morning, Angel,” Bo said. “How did you sleep?”

“Like the dead,” I said, casting a knowing glance at Kira and Hala and getting smiles in return. I hadn’t expected it, but our conversation last night had brought the three of us closer and given me additional insight into them. That could only strength the team, and I was grateful for it.

I wound my hair up in a ponytail, securing it with the band that had been around my wrist. “What smells so good?”

Kira pointed at Jax, who stood with his back to us at the stove. “He’s making breakfast. Eggs, bacon, and pancakes.”

Holy handsome hottie with a spatula.

I’m pretty sure I’d never seen anything more attractive than Jax standing at the stove in jeans and a sweater, cooking pancakes and bacon. I stood there staring at him until Frankie tugged on my arm, snapping me out of my embarrassing trance.

“Homemade pancakes,” she said, then poured syrup over a short stack. She was dressed in a blinding orange sweatshirt, her hair tucked up beneath a neon-orange beret. I opened my mouth to say something about it, then decided I was better off keeping my mouth shut. I had no ground to stand on with Frankie and her artistic fashion choices.

Jax walked over with a black skillet in his hand and scooped some scrambled eggs onto a paper plate. He added a couple of crispy pieces of bacon and handed me the plate. “Morning, Red.” He gave me a wink that made my cheeks turn pink.

“Wow, Jax, this looks great. I didn’t know you could cook.”

“It’s one of my better talents,” he said as I snatched a piece of the bacon and popped it into my mouth.

“It sure is,” I agreed, taking the plate and sitting down across from Frankie.

“Are you ready to get started, Angel?” Mike asked. He was already behind his laptop, working.

“I am,” I answered. “Just after I finish scarfing down these excellent-looking pancakes.”

“I’m ready, too,” Kira said. She looked stunning as always, dressed in jeans and a light-blue sweater the same color as her eyes, her blond hair tucked behind her ears.

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