Page 15 of Hidden Attraction

Chase continued, “She brokered a temporary ceasefire between two hostile factions in a disputed region in the Middle East.”

She swung her attention to him. “Someone did his homework. You get a gold star.”

His eyes flattened at the corners as he continued to study her and brief his leader. “Ambassador Vargas also spearheaded a humanitarian and environmental agreement between the US and Mexico to protect shared ecological zones.”

She tilted her jaw higher and met his stare.

“And she negotiated the release of a hostage in Syria. A journalist by the name of Callie Northwood.”

Her lungs burned. That nametuggedat her. Out of all the years she worked as a negotiator, she felt the most connection to that name…because after she negotiated for the woman’s freedom, she never found Callie Northwood again.

“Ambassador Vargas had a…shall we say…meteoric risein her career. And she’s only thirty.”

“Is there a question there?” she asked him. “Are you insinuating that I didn’t earn my position? That I’m dirty? Slept my way to the top, maybe?”

Con shifted. “No, Ambassador. Congratulations on all your achievements.”

She sat back against the seat and folded her arms, matching Chase’s pose and glare. “Doesn’t sound like congratulations. It sounds like accusations.”

Con appraised her. “We have questions.”

“I have questions too,” she countered. “What are we doing in an estate in New Jersey?”

The men’s gazes flew to each other’s.

“Don’t look at him. Look at me.” When both men gave her almost the exact same incredulous expression, she barreled forward. “I’m not an idiot. I know what direction we turned. I heard tires on the bridge. I smelled grass clippings when the car stopped. And I heard my shoes on marble floors. I know how long we drove to get here, and my deductions come from simple logic.”

She sat back again, satisfied that she could use her skills to put a couple of high-handed men in their place. “By the way, interesting décor. Early 2000s military-grade furniture wouldn’t be my first choice.”

Chase swooped in, planting a hand on the table and leaning over her. It was an intimidation tactic, but she wasn’t falling into that trap. “You remember that mission in the Middle East.”

“Yes.”

“I was on that mission too, goddammit.”

She recoiled, blinking up at him. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember you.”

He pushed off the table and returned to lean against the wall. “We checked your devices.”

“And?”

“There’s no sign of tampering. No leaks about your schedule, details about your flight or your arrival in New York, nor at the hotel, not even secretly transmitted. There’s also no phone record that someone could discover your location. And yet,” his stare blazed into her, “there was an unexplained attack.”

“And I’m being held here until you find out what? That I’m behind my own attack?”

“It’s our job to find out,” Con told her. “Just like it’s our job to protect the country, it’s our job to protect you.”

She issued a low breath. “Where is Kennedy?”

“She’s fine,” Chase responded.

She gave him an imploring look. “Don’t mess with Kennedy. She’s solid. She’s been with me forever.”

“That’s our call to make.” Con stood and walked to the door, leaving Alyssa to gape at the leader’s muscled back.

“How long will I be here?” she called after him.

He paused at the door, glancing back at her. “Not long. You’re going to Syria. With Special Operative Chase.”

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