I very much wanted that, so I agreed.

  Unfortunately, Ladd had to return to Pittsburgh. While we were in flight from San Salvador to DC, Britney had given birth to a healthy baby girl. Ladd was able to talk to her from the plane, as well as Ethan, who was beyond excited. Ladd wanted to get back to share in that excitement, and I couldn’t blame him one bit.

  My only sadness was that we hadn’t had a moment alone since our dinner in San Salvador, and there was no time to say things that needed to be said.

  So he gave me an all-encompassing embrace where he held me tightly for the longest time. He leaned back and gave me a kiss that spoke volumes.

  It isn’t over between us.

  There is a future.

  “Come see me when you’re finished here,” he said.

  I nodded and promised. We have a lot to talk about.

  The conference room door opens, jolting me out of my memories of Ladd. I have a slight rush of heat to my cheeks, as if I’ve been caught thinking naughty things.

  Standing in the doorway is Rasmussen’s aide, who showed me in here just half an hour ago and offered doughnuts and danishes. I declined. My stomach is in knots over the confrontation I know is about to occur.

  “Mr. Rasmussen is ready to begin,” he announces crisply and produces a digital tablet that he sets on the table before me. It’s a direct camera feed with audio to the director’s office, which is right next door to the room I’m sitting in.

  He’s allowing me the privilege to watch him take down the woman who tried to have me killed, and it’s an incredibly kind and satisfying gesture. While I’d like nothing more than to punch her in the face, this will suffice.

  The door to Rasmussen’s office opens and another aide motions for someone to enter. It’s Gayla Newman and my blood boils as I watch her stride in with confidence. She’s wearing a navy pantsuit, her hair in a tight bun at the back of her head, and she meanders around the office checking out the various awards and commendations on the walls.

  The door opens again, and Rasmussen enters. I’m shocked to see Kynan McGrath follow him in. I knew he stayed in DC for further debriefing, but it was never done with me, so I assumed he’d gone back to Pittsburgh.

  I’m not sure what excuse Gayla was given for this meeting, but Rasmussen introduces them.

  “Gayla, this is Kynan McGrath, owner of Jameson Force Security. I believe you’re familiar with his company. They went down to extract one of your agents from El Salvador a few weeks ago.”

  I guarantee Gayla already knows who Kynan is because she knows everything. Given that she was involved in the handoff of my extraction to Jameson once I’d been disavowed, at a minimum, she would’ve known what he looks like just by the dossier she would’ve been given on his company.

  Gayla leans forward, shakes Kynan’s hand. “Yes, of course. It’s a pleasure to meet you and have the opportunity to thank you for handling our agent’s blunders. It’s a true service to your country that your people put their lives on the line to help one of ours, even if her own actions left her in peril.”

  My chest burns as she throws me under the bus, but I’m not surprised. She’s an incredibly smug and self-centered woman.

  Kynan smiles tightly as he breaks the handshake. “Yes. I sent one of my best… Ladd McDermott.”

  Gayla plasters on a fake smile at the mention of Ladd’s name… the same man she helped Mejia attempt to kill. “Well, please extend my sincere gratitude to him when you see him.”

  “I will,” Kynan says easily, his smile coming off as genuine, but I hear the disdain in his voice. “He’s currently at home taking a few days off after a very dangerous mission.”

  This perks Newman’s attention because she most assuredly has no clue what went down two days ago. All she knows is that Mejia instructed Vecindario 18 to take both me and Ladd out, but she has no clue if we’re still alive.

  “I hope Mr. McDermott is okay,” Newman says solicitously, her eyes cutting briefly to the director who has been standing there with his hands folded before him, listening to the exchange.

  “Mr. McDermott’s fine,” Kynan assures Newman. “In fact, I’m sure you’d like to know how Greer Hathaway is doing as well, since you asked about Ladd.”

  A tiny moment of panic flickers in Newman’s eyes—she’s beginning to understand she’s not in control of this conversation. Her expression smooths quickly, though, and her tone is light and airy. “Agent Hathaway?” she inquires with mock confusion. “She’s been disavowed. I mean, I wish her well, but why would I want to know how she’s doing?”

  “Surely you want to know whether she’s dead,” Kynan prods. “I know it’s of great interest to you.”

  “Excuse me?” Newman says in outrage and then looks to Rasmussen. “What is going on here?”

  “What’s going on,” Rasmussen drawls, “is that Mr. McGrath’s team went down to El Salvador to put a stop to the hit that was ordered on both Mr. McDermott and Ms. Hathaway by Hugo Mejia. They managed to capture Hugo Mejia, and Vecindario 18 has been ordered to stand down. Mejia is currently in US custody.”

  The video quality is quite excellent, and I can see Gayla turn slightly green. Still, she tries to act stupid. “That’s wonderful news, but I still don’t see what it has to do with me.”

  “Gayla,” Rasmussen says, his voice laced with disappointment. “You had such great potential for this agency. I truly thought your service was making our world a better place. You not only accepted bribe money from Mejia to give him a wide berth in Central America, but you used him to carry out a personal vendetta against Ms. Hathaway. You are complicit in his attempts to murder her, and as such, you will be held accountable.”

  I’m sure this was well orchestrated on Rasmussen’s part, but as soon as he says “you will be held accountable,” the door swings open and two US marshals walk in.

  “What is going on?” Gayla Newman demands in a high-pitched shriek. She attempts to sidestep the marshals, but they move in fast and without mercy, cuffing her while she cries out her denials.

  She’s still proclaiming her ignorance regarding Mejia’s actions and her innocence as to all else as they drag her out of the office.

  I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath, but once she’s gone, it comes out in a long rush of relief.

  The door to the conference room opens and I jolt, turning to see Kynan walk in. The aide nods at him and exits.

  “I didn’t realize you’d be here for this,” I say, standing from the chair.

  “I hope you found that as satisfying as I did,” he quips with a smile.

  “I’m glad it’s over.” I don’t have it in me to be satisfied right now.

  “I just wanted to pop my head in because I know Director Rasmussen wants to talk to you. He’ll undoubtedly be reinstating you, effective immediately, and I’m quite confident you’ll get a promotion.”

  This doesn’t surprise me. I’d assumed I’d get my job back.

  “Before he comes in, though,” Kynan continues, “I want to offer you a job at Jameson. I’d like you to consider coming to work for me.”

  A surge of joy sweeps through me at the unexpected offer, but it’s tempered with a healthy dose of skepticism. “Are you offering me this job because of my exceptional skills and you really need another agent?”

  Kynan doesn’t say a word.

  “Or because Ladd is in Pittsburgh, and you think it’s best for him if I go there?”

  Still, he remains silent.

  I incline my head. “I’ll consider the offer, but if we don’t see each other again… thank you for rescuing us. You were right… we should’ve had you go with us from the start.”

  A smile breaks wide on Kynan’s face. “See? You are a smart girl after all. Offer stands. Let me know.”

  And with that, he turns and walks out. I have no more than about five seconds to consider the job offer when Rasmussen is walking back in.

  “Ms. Hathaway,” he says, motioning for me to take a seat. “Let’s discuss your future here at the CIA.”

  CHAPTER 23

  Ladd

  Turning off the gas flame under the pan of scrambled eggs, I yell up the stairs for Ethan. “Breakfast is being served.”

  I move the pan to a trivet, pleased there’s minimal soreness in my right shoulder. The stitches were taken out yesterday and it’s amusing—at least to me—that the bullet graze to my ass twelve years ago hurt more than the through and through on my shoulder.

  “Coming!” he yells back, and then the thunder of feet down the stairs that sounds like an elephant rather than an eighty-five-pound boy.

  “I made you a roast beef sandwich for lunch,” I say as he skids into the kitchen. I dump some eggs on a plate, and he nabs it from me along with a piece of buttered toast.

  He jams the toast in his mouth and mumbles, “Thanks.”

  Ethan sits down at the table, and I refill my coffee. I glance out the window, the gray skies darkening my mood even further.

  It’s been ten days since we’ve been back from El Salvador. I’m here in Pittsburgh, and Greer is… well… not.

  I’d built up in my mind that we’d be together, but in my mind, I had not necessarily determined it would be in Pittsburgh. I wanted to see what she wanted. I wanted to make this a mutual decision.

  My hope was she’d come to Pittsburgh, as I know Kynan offered her a job, but I’m not going to demand it. I learned the hard way how fast you can lose someone when you can’t compromise.

  She’s not lost to me by any means, though. We talk every day, but it’s not the type of talk I want to have. I want a serious discussion about our future together, but when I bring it up, she puts me off.

  It’s sly the way she does it, blaming it on a host of other things she has to handle first, but I see through it all. She’s scared, and I get it. I’m willing to be patient, or rather, I have no choice but to be.

  Greer did not immediately accept Director Rasmussen’s offer to come back to the CIA. Instead, she asked him for two weeks off to think about it.

  I had hoped she’d come here, so I could have some input on her decision, although I wouldn’t sway it. If she wants to stay with the CIA, I’ll figure out a way to make us work.

  But she didn’t come here.

  She’s in California—at her parents’ house—to think things through. It’s been ten days since we’ve been back from El Salvador, and yet, she’s still thinking about things.

  It’s not the greatest confidence builder, and I’m wondering if I’ve misjudged the way we reconnected.

  “Dad,” Ethan says. I blink, turning to face him.

  “What’s up?” I sip my coffee, looking at him expectantly.

  “I’ve been talking to you for like a minute about my school project, and you’re not even paying attention.”

  I frown. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Sorry, bud.” I move over to the kitchen table and take the chair adjacent to him. He’s almost finished with his eggs. “Got lost in my head, I guess.”

  “You’ve been doing that a lot lately.” He stares at me pointedly, but there’s no recrimination in his gaze.

  “I have?” I ask.

  Ethan nods, setting his fork down and pushing his plate away. He folds his hands on the table. “I think it’s time we had a talk.”

  I happen to be taking another sip of coffee when he says that, and I almost spit it out with laughter because his tone and demeanor suggest he’s taken on the role of parent and I’m the child.

  But I decide to play along and set my cup down on the table, giving him my full attention. “Okay. What do you want to talk about?”

  My son studies me a moment, his eyes somber. “You’re lovesick, and I think it’s dragging you down.”

  Eyebrows jetting upward in shock, I exclaim, “Lovesick? What in the world are you talking about?”

  I mean… he’s not wrong. But how in the hell would he even know?

  “Something’s been bothering you since you came back from El Salvador, and I think it has to do with that other agent, Greer.”

  “Why would you assume that?” I ask, aghast at his deduction—and slightly impressed at the same time.

  “You didn’t introduce me to her, and you always introduce me to everyone. I asked Mom about it, and she said Greer was your old girlfriend.”

  My jaw drops wide. “She did?”

  “Yeah,” he replies with a shrug. “She cares about you and wants to see you happy. Mom seems to think Greer is the one.”

  I actually feel dizzy, knowing that my son and ex-wife seem to have my love life all figured out, and here I’m the one with advanced training in human intelligence and clandestine affairs.

  Picking up my cup, I take another sip of coffee, wishing it was bourbon. My mind drifts, puzzling out how I’ve given away so much to these people when I thought I was acting normally.

  “Want to talk about it?” Ethan asks gently, reaching over and patting my hand.

  I smirk at my son. “You’re like ten going on thirty with a psychology degree. Cut it out. It’s weird.”

  “Settle back in your chair,” he says with a smarmy smile. “Tell me all your troubles.”

  I laugh, shaking my head. My kid has always had such a sharp sense of humor and clearly understands more about human nature than I’ve ever given him credit for. And while I’d prefer never to put my worries on my child’s shoulders, at some point, he needs to know how I feel about Greer.

  So I tell him everything—appropriate for his age, of course.

  I tell him how she saved me, and how we fell madly, deeply in love. That we were engaged and I thought we’d spend our lives together.

  I told him how it fell apart, because we were at different points in our lives when we each wanted different things, and it didn’t mesh.

  And I was brutally honest that I didn’t do enough to compromise with her, and it cost me so much.

  “Was she your soul mate?” Ethan asks curiously.

  I feel a bit hot under the collar because I never want to diminish Britney in his eyes. He loves his mother like he loves oxygen. It’s with great care I try to explain. “There was a time when she was my soul mate, but then she wasn’t. It didn’t work out, and I moved on.”

  “And met Mom,” he concludes.

  “Yes, and I loved her very much. Still do, for that matter, as you know.”

  Ethan nods sagely. Britney and I are very open and candid with Ethan that we still love each other, just in a very different way. He understands it’s a solid friendship based on our mutual love for him and our respect of each other as parents.

  “But now you love Greer?” he asks.

  There’s no hesitation in giving him the truth. “I do.”

  “Are you sad because she doesn’t love you?” he asks hesitantly.

  I shake my head. “No, not sad about that. I’m pretty sure she does, although we haven’t discussed it when we talk on the phone. I’m sad because I want to talk to her about it, but she keeps putting me off. Says she needs to think about things.”

  Ethan nods again, his expression looking like a wise old man. “I’m sure she’s scared. Maybe she has some insecurities since you two didn’t work out before.”

  “Maybe,” I murmur, all the while thinking maybe I should let my kid shrink me up more often.

  Because what he just said resonates.

  Perhaps Greer has some insecurities, and while Ethan doesn’t know about the years of guilt she’s suffered over us not working out, it’s a big deal for us to be back in each other’s lives. It’s a gamble, if anything.

  And, I have to admit, I have my own insecurities. While I’m pushing Greer to talk with me about our future, I’m not pushing all that hard as part of me is afraid she’s not willing to take the risk at this point.

  Maybe she’s afraid that I’m not truly willing to look past our history. Maybe she still doesn’t believe she’s worthy of a second chance. Could she be wallowing in so much self-doubt she’s not going to choose the path that leads to me?

  “I know what the problem is,” Ethan says with confidence.

  “What’s that?”

  “You need to stop talking on the phone and do it face-to-face. You should look someone in the eyes when you talk about love and your future together.”

  I can’t help but grimace. “You’re freaking me out. It’s like you have a little old man inside you who spent seventy years with the love of his life and now has golden advice.”

  “I’m being serious,” he says, giving me a chastising smirk. “Go to her and force her to talk about these things.”

  “You think?” I’m hesitant to admit it, but he might be right.

  “I know.”

  Pride blooms within me that my son possesses such an inherent empathy. It’s not something you can teach.

  But then a new worry hits me. “How would you feel about me and Greer being together?”

  Ethan considers that a moment. “Well, I don’t really know her. But if you love her, I guess that’s all that matters.”

  “She may not want to live in Pittsburgh.” While I want to give Greer as much latitude to serve her wants and needs, the thought of leaving my son, and Pittsburgh, turns my stomach.

  “Sounds like the face-to-face is more important than ever,” he says noncommittally.

  “I’m not sure I’m willing to leave you if she won’t come to Pittsburgh,” I point out.

  “You’re looking for problems before they even happen,” he counters, and I know without a doubt, today he’s the adult in our relationship.

  I put aside the Pittsburgh issue, because while that might be a hurdle we can’t overcome, it’s not the most pressing question. I need to know if Greer wants to give this a go.

  “You okay staying at your mom’s for a few days while I go to California?” I ask him. He’s supposed to be with me through the weekend, but Ethan’s easygoing, and we’ll make it up. Britney’s always willing to switch.

  “I’ll be fine,” he assures me.