Page 9 of Deadly Attraction
Months. Thank God all he had to do was get her to the safe house and then he could be done with her.
She played with her teabag, hurrying the steeping process. “There’s no guarantee he’s coming for me. He may already be at the Mexican border and the authorities will never catch him. Meanwhile, I’m supposed to live in fear and give up my life? Sorry, that’s not going to happen.”
“Do you really believe that? That Goodsman will run and disappear and never come after you?”
The tea bag stayed in the cup as she returned to her seat, sipping at the warm liquid. “Chris lives for fame. Going into hiding and living a life of seclusion doesn’t seem like his style, but sociopaths are often unpredictable.”
Then why the hell would she sit there drinking tea when the man might be outside? “Pack your bags and let’s get the hell out of here, Dr. Collins. The safe house is very nice, I assure you, and I’ve got to be honest, even with those guns you say you have, you’re no match for a guy who killed his fiancée and managed to escape jail.”
“Haven’t you been honest all along?”
What? The woman was a loon. She was also his responsibility until Dupé showed up. “At least go with me to the house tonight. We can come back in the morning and take care of the animals, check on your…the man who lives here…and reschedule your clients.”
“So youhaven’tbeen completely honest with me.”
“What does my honesty have to do with any of this?”
“You’re good at deflection, aren’t you? Turning things around so you don’t have to reveal anything about yourself. Except by doing that, Agent Holden, you’re actually telling me a great deal.”
“Stop psychoanalyzing me.”
“Sorry, habit.” She gave him that smile again, not looking sorry at all. “I’d really like to enjoy my tea and talk. I don’t get many visitors who don’t need my services. What branch do you work for under National Intelligence? Or is that top secret?”
She leaned forward, her eyebrows waggling.
Seriously? Mitch rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t force her to leave. All he could do was keep her safe until Dupé arrived and then he could bail. He’d have to text Dupé and give him the news—Dr. Collins wasn’t going anywhere.
Yeah…that news could wait. He needed a break from NI, and he liked working with the taskforce. No way he wanted Dupé to know he couldn’t handle this simple matter. He preferred getting through the holidays by focusing on the arsonist, but for now, he had to ride out the force of nature sitting before him.
Maybe he could still get Collins to that safe house. If he played nice, got her to trust him, he could talk some sense into her. Dupé never had to know he sucked at being a bodyguard.
“I’m sort of a…subcontractor,” Mitch said. “I work for different agencies, depending on the situation and what they need.”
“That sounds fascinating. Doing what?”
Positioning himself at the back door, he stared out the slender window at the night. The wind had kicked up—bad for the wildfires—but other than trees blowing around, nothing else moved. He glanced back at her. “Let’s call it…threat management analysis.”
She chewed her cookie and rolled a finger for him to go on.
Talking about job specifics was a no-go. Ditto for talking about himself. He stayed quiet, giving her only a mirror impression of her fake smile.
Giving up wasn’t in her nature. Either that, or she refused to take the hint. “How did you end up on loan, as you called it, to Victor’s taskforce?” she asked.
Victor. Again with the first name that suggested a certain level of friendship, of intimacy. Mitch never thought of Dupé—the freakin’ director of the FBI’s West Coast division—asVictor.
The taskforce wasn’t a secret, although keeping the identities of the agents on the taskforce under wraps was crucial. If he watched his p’s and q’s, he could give her a little background on them and up his chances of getting into her good graces. And, maybe if he was lucky, he could gain her trust and be the one asking the questions. She seemed to be in a chatty mood. Anything to convince her to leave. Get her to that safe house and out of his hair.
“The Southern California Violent Crimes Taskforce deals with drug kingpins, gun runners, human traffickers, and the like,” he told her. “Many of the criminals they’re after have dealings with terrorists and people on Homeland’s watch list. My expertise with national security and counterterrorism comes in handy on occasion, and sometimes they need a warm body to fill a hole when a bunch of them are undercover. Dupé requests my assistance, and if I’m in country and available, I make every attempt to meet that request. Gets me out here in the sun and surf.”
“Do you analyze threats to the United States or to the taskforce itself?”
“Both.” Time forquid pro quo. “How do you know Director Dupé?”
She gave him that smile again, letting him know his deflection wasn’t going unnoticed. Fuck that. He didn’t care.
“Victor and I met at my first criminal trial,” she said, her hands around the tea cup. “I was an expert witness for the defense; he was an expert witness for the prosecution.”
Mitch could imagine those fireworks. Time for some reverse psychology. “How’d that turn out?”
