Page 52 of Covert Temptation

Dante sat back slowly, staring.

Kennedy saw the breath go out of his lungs. “What is it, Dante?”

“He’s alive,” Dante said, like he couldn’t believe the words.

“Who is he?” Fear was a hard, sick ball deep in the pit of her gut.

“The son.” He pitched his voice low. “The son of the Red Cross worker who died in that explosion. The event we believe links Echo team’s demise and the attacks on Alyssa.”

Echo team.He hadn’t said the name out loud until now. But hearing it spoken brought the weight of it crashing in.

Suddenly, it wasn’t just an abstract team of men who lost their lives. It was real people.

Dante’s Adam’s apple bulged in his throat, deadly sharp. “He’s not just alive—he’s been watching. Following.” He shoved away from the desk fast, sending his chair skittering backward on the hardwood. “Fuckingplotting.For ayear. And wemissedit.”

He took off across the room in long, quick strides, so fast that even her mind that loved to count steps couldn’t keep up.

He let out a growl. When he met her gaze, his eyes blazed with fury, a fury she never, ever wanted to see directed at her.

“He was there when Shaw was assassinated,” he said.

Her mind felt dulled by so many scattered pieces of the mystery. But Dante’s smart glasses had recorded the man waiting in the crowd outside the courtroom when he exited behind Alan Shaw.

“He’s been in the crowd this whole goddamn time, in the shadows, watching this whole thing unravel!” Dante cut his hand through the air again as if he could slice down an army. “His mother was killed, and now the son’s seeking revenge.”

Her stomach pitched. “Oh god. Dante, what are we going to do with this information?”

He snatched up his phone. “I need to tell Con.”

She watched him move to the far side of the room—five measured paces. Though he muttered into the phone, the urgency in his voice made her blood run cold.

Then he went still.

His shoulders slumped, his head bowing forward.

Kennedy stood up from the chair and moved closer.

Dante nodded as if to himself. Then he swallowed hard and dropped the phone from his ear.

She lay a hand on his arm to feel the tendons at their snapping point. Tipping her head up, she searched his face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

His jaw flexed in the crease again. This time, she wanted to smooth her fingertips over it.

To soothe him.

“Team’s deployed. They didn’t loop me in. I’m not even needed for intel.”

The anger in his voice shuddered with an undercurrent of some other emotion—hurt.

“I was fuckingbenched.”

Her heart twisted at the expression on his face. He wasn’t angry. He was…left behind.

That kind of quiet devastation she knew too well.

She brushed her fingers over his arm, trying to find words to ease him. “They probably had no choice,” she said carefully. “Maybe it was last minute.”

“Conalwaystells me,” Dante muttered.

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