Page 41 of Hidden Attraction

“If you’re trying to lighten the mood, your references to movie quotes don’t have the effect you’re going for.” For another beat, their gazes locked…but the moment was loaded with something else.

Her pulse began to hammer faster. “Besides, I was going to say peanut butter and jelly. But really, she’s a great assistant, we’re friends, and she’s solid.”

No way could she miss something right under her nose. Her whole job was reading people.

“She was assigned to you. That means you didn’t vet her.”

“So?”

“So if anything was missed in the hiring process, that’s not on you, Alyssa. That would be on the FBI.”

She sat with the thought, letting it scrape like gravel under a boot.

“We searched your bags when you arrived at the base. Sophie, our resident cryptologist, went through your belongings for any link to the terrorist we believe is connected to that bombing at the Red Cross, and to Blackout.”

What was she supposed to say to that? It bristled that she was under suspicion at all, let alone had her privacy violated when the team searched her belongings and her phone.

Yet it made sense. Security must take the highest priority. She was a direct liaison to the secretary of state, who had the ear of the president of the United States. There was no room for errors.

Julian reached out, letting a fingertip trace a line from her knuckle to her wrist. A shiver rippled through her—one that had nothing to do with the conversation.

“Kennedy seems to have a lot of expensive belongings. Her purse is designer.”

She nodded. “Lots of people own expensive things. It doesn’t make her a criminal.”

“Prada. Gucci. Chanel.”

She nodded.

“And inside, every makeup product was a luxury brand too. So question is…how is an assistant able to afford such expensive things? Especially one who doesn’t come from money.”

Sparks of worry exploded in her stomach. She didn’t have answers to these questions that she had asked herself many times. Even though she was relieved that Blackout—and Julian—seemed less focused onherbeing a person of suspicion,she didn’t like the target on Kennedy.

Those small points of worry in her stomach made it pitch and heave so much that she couldn’t think about eating. She pushed away the bread and sat back in her seat. “I’m not feeling very hungry anymore.”

Julian’s gaze rested on her, not accusing but gentle with something else. Maybe regret that he had to be the bearer of bad news? The past few days had been a sandstorm—harsh, relentless, cutting like glass. And even now, with the dust beginning to settle, the air remained too thick to see the way forward.

NINE

Chase kept telling himself that he’d done what was necessary. He had to know. He had to learn if Alyssa was guilty. But when he questioned her, he didn’t pick up a single hint of artifice in her answers. If shewasin on that security breach, then she was the best liar he’d ever seen.

The street was congested with market stalls and customers browsing everything from legs of lamb to handwoven rugs. Everywhere they walked, there was laughter and even music. The atmosphere buzzed with the kind of excitement that was almost infectious—even for a hard-ass like him. Or maybe it was his own plan that had his pulse drumming in time with the energy around him.

“Where are we going again?” Her voice lifted above the flute music an older man was playing in front of a stall of trinkets.

Chase shot her a smile. “We’re going to pick up our transportation.” They’d ditched their car at the base and he had no intention of returning for it. These things had a way of managing themselves.

She dragged her feet, hair swishing across her shoulders as she looked right and left. “Here?”

“Trust me.” He kept a grip on her elbow and the other hand loose at his side within reach of his weapon. With every step they took, he mentally marked a potential point of defense—a shadow, a notch between buildings—and another spot to fall back to, just in case.

All while Alyssa’s silky skin beneath his fingers was making him think about finding a quiet spot tucked out of the way for other reasons.

Chase led her down a narrow alley just off the main street, weaving past stacked crates, the scent of grilled lamb hanging in the air.

“You sure you know where you’re going?” she asked.

He didn’t answer—just shot her a small, knowing grin over his shoulder. A few more turns, and they stepped into a shaded courtyard where an old man sat under a tarp, sipping tea beside a row of battered scooters. Julian approached without hesitation.

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