Page 8 of Hidden Attraction

“It’s a big country.” He twisted his head and fixed her in his stare. His brown eyes were just as intense as his companion’s.

She drew in a calming breath. This was what she wanted when she accepted the position. Her goal had always been to help people. Now, more than ever, she had to remember that.

She touched her fingertips to her throat, feeling the light throb of her pulse. She needed to start over with these men. “I’m Alyssa Vargas, the ambassador to Mexico. And this is my assistant, Kennedy Bloom.”

The driver nodded at her in the mirror. “Special Operative Denver Malone.”

“Special Operative Julian Chase.”

She and Kennedy smiled at the introduction. With that out of the way, she hedged forward to find out what she could from these men.

“I’d like to question whoever had eyes on the bomb last,” she began.

Chase twisted his head to look at her again. “Kinda hard to question a dead man.”

Alyssa had a handful of pieces to this puzzle and none of them seemed to fit together, but it wasn’t her job to see the whole picture. It was her job to smooth relations between their country and Mexico.

“What else do you know about the explosion?” she asked.

Special Operative Chase responded, “The bomb never got inside the building. Reports are that it was being checked in when it detonated, but we can’t confirm that since those people are all dead too.”

“I see.” She could see why Mexico was screaming “gross negligence” at the facility.

Suddenly, she realized how calm and quiet the street was. She and Kennedy were making a stop at their hotel in downtown Manhattan before going on to the United Nations.

But these streets were far from the busy city Alyssa knew with rush-hour traffic, honking horns and sirens blaring in intervals.

“Are you taking a different route to the hotel?”

The driver’s eyes flicked to hers again. “We know all the scenic routes.”

Alyssa relaxed a measure. “How did you get the lucky job of following me around anyway?”

“I requested it.” Chase’s statement came out rough with an undercurrent of grit.

She blinked in surprise. “Why?”

Again, he swung his head. Brown eyes fixed on her face, he opened his mouth to respond.

Before he could answer, her phone buzzed in her lap. One look at the screen had her wishing the air conditioner was on full blast.

“It’s the president.”

“Of the United States?” Denver asked.

“Of Mexico.” She answered the call in Spanish. As she spoke, she grew aware of another conversation taking place in the car around her.

“Her Spanish is pretty good,” the driver commented.

“You should hear her speak Arabic,” Chase said.

How did he know she spoke Arabic?

Her gaze flew to Chase’s profile, but those granite features gave nothing away about his statement.

“You haven’t heard anything yet,” Kennedy added in a whisper as not to interrupt Alyssa’s call.

“How many languages does she speak?” Denver asked.

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