Page 14 of Hidden Attraction

Kennedy made a small noise of despair.

Alyssa stiffened her spine. “It will be all right, Kennedy. I’ll see you in a little while.”

When Chase tugged on her arm again, she realized that his fingers weren’t as tough as they had been. He was being a little gentler with her. He led her down an endless hallway, and she counted twenty-two steps. A door opened and closed.

“You can take off the hood.”

She yanked it over her head, gasping fresh, cool air. It took her eyes a moment to focus in the bright room. As Chase’s muscular form came into crystal-clear focus, she shot him a heated scowl.

“Was that really necessary?”

“Yes. No one can know where our base is unless you have a private invitation.” He pointed at one wall where a short table sat with chairs on opposite sides. “Have a seat. Someone will be in to talk to you.”

Anger pounded at her all over again. She whirled on him, jaw tipped a notch higher. “Why amIbeing questioned? The Secretary-General of the United Nations is waiting to speak with me about the explosion in New Mexico.”

He stared into her eyes, his expression an impenetrable mask. “Your transport turned into a kidnapping attempt. The plan changed.”

“So you think you’ll find out who is responsible by interrogating me? Or Kennedy?”

He took a step toward her, slow and measured. Her instinct to back up kicked in, but she overrode it and locked her feet to the—she glanced down—marble floor.

“Take a seat, Ambassador.” Without another word, Chase performed one of those about-faces in sharp military fashion and exited the room.

She gaped at the closed door. For a crazy minute, she considered flinging it open and walking right out, but knew Chase would only drag her back.

Reluctantly, she drifted to the table. The legs of the chair grated as she pulled it out and sank to it.

She planted her elbows on the table and dropped her head into her hands, battling the urge to scream along with the vibration of worry that hadn’t left since she got that very first call this morning.

People needed her.

She raked her fingers through her hair. The hood had wrecked the style. She slowly removed the band holding her hair back and did her best to smooth the strands before fastening the thick mass with the elastic again.

When the door opened, she jerked her head around to see another huge tower of a man enter with Chase right behind him.

He stepped up in front of the table. “I’m the leader of the special ops team in charge of your safety.”

Chase leaned against the wall behind him, arms folded, staring at her unwaveringly.

Unnervingly.

Her gaze flicked up his muscled chest clad in black cotton to his thick, tanned throat, angled jaw and chiseled features, to those rich brown eyes.

Eyes like that should be soft, but they weren’t. They were burnished bronze under pressure—no warmth, only sharp calculation. As he stared back at her, they didn’t flicker or relent, not even at the edges. Set beneath a furrowed brow, those eyes radiated authority, as if he’d seen too much and trusted too little.

When he moved his mouth, dimples popped in each cheek, even though he wore a grim expression, far from a smile.

She tore her gaze away and focused on the leader. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“They call me Con.”

“All right…Con.”

He turned his face slightly toward Chase. “Tell me what you know.”

Chase didn’t pull away from the wall or shift his gaze from her as he began to speak. “Ambassador Vargas is fluent in seven languages including Spanish and Arabic. She serves as a vital link in cross-cultural diplomacy, ensuring that no nuance is lost in translation.”

Her jaw threatened to unhinge and drop to the tabletop, but she forced it to remain closed up tight.

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