“Who knows about this?” Had Lara been picking and choosing her targets? He found that oddly disappointing.

  “It’s buried. Unless she’s got an informant in the high ranks of the DOJ, there’s no way she knows about it. I can’t be certain even her ex-fiancé knows.”

  Somehow that made Connor feel better. He’d kind of started looking at her as Super Fairy, protector of truth (there was none), justice (even less of that), and the American way (burying their heads in the sand and buying another Happy Meal.) It might be ridiculous, but he would be disappointed to discover her hypocrisy. “What else have you got?”

  “It’s all on this thumb drive. I know how freaky you are about sending things over the Internet, and I think you have good reason this time.”

  “Why?”

  “The NSA is interested in one of Lara’s neighbors. A man named Fredrick Gallagher. They believe he’s hacked some important sites and might be involved in cyberterrorism. They don’t have the goods on him yet.”

  “So?” If the NSA didn’t have the balls to question him, Connor’s team could do it. “A little friendly interrogation on foreign soil never hurt anyone.”

  Roman sighed. “We’re not renditioning American citizens, Connor. He’s a veteran with a tragic past. I pulled his records. It’s not pretty. If it got out that we’re investigating him at all, it could blow up in our faces, so keep it quiet. But if you get a chance to get into his place and collect intel, I know some people who would owe you a favor. Now, what have you found out?”

  This was the shitty part. “She’s clean. Everything she’s said to me is truthful.”

  Roman’s eyes narrowed. “You’re kidding me.”

  Connor shrugged. A couple of nights on her couch had allowed him to comb through her system, downloading it quickly and then uploading it to his own computer so he could browse through at his convenience. Just yesterday afternoon they’d sat in her office together. She’d been at her desk working on some story about a company fudging their reports to the EPA. She hadn’t had a clue that the whole while she was investigating her scoop, he’d been investigating her.

  “She keeps meticulous records, but her e-mail contained nothing that might lead us to Deep Throat. It’s either informants or friends or spam. I’m reading each and every one in case there’s some code, but it’s going to take me a few days. I’ve blocked off the time period from Mad’s death to today. It’s roughly two thousand e-mails to go through.”

  “Send a third to Everly and another to Dax. If this didn’t involve Zack, I would hire an investigative team. We’re wasting your talents having you read e-mails.”

  He didn’t want anyone else to do it. Some of those e-mails were private. He’d been reading her e-mails to her mother where she talked about Niall and how much she liked him, how she thought she might find a soul mate in him. She’d written to a cousin congratulating her on her upcoming wedding and asking if she could bring a date. She’d told her all about Niall.

  She would have to attend the wedding alone. Would she explain what had happened or just tell her happily married cousin that it hadn’t worked out? The wedding was in three weeks. Maybe she simply wouldn’t attend.

  Or, Connor thought, he could take her.

  “I need to get a feel for her. I’ll get through them. I don’t have much else to do. She spends a lot of time at her computer.”

  Roman was staring at him. Connor had seen that look in the courtroom right before Roman tore apart opposing counsel’s argument. “You haven’t managed to do anything but download her system?”

  “I can’t let her catch me.”

  “Drug her.”

  “I think she would notice that.”

  “Fine. Fuck her and keep her in bed, and let my guys come in and go through everything with a fine-tooth comb. We can do the whole place in thirty minutes and she won’t have a clue we’ve been there.”

  It was actually what he needed. He’d hesitated to do too thorough a search since after that first night she’d struggled to sleep. She’d gotten up at least once each night to sneak into the kitchen and grab a bottle of water. He would watch her through hooded eyes as she tried not to wake him. In the moonlight, her skin glowed like alabaster.

  “I’m not sleeping with her.”

  Roman sighed like it should be obvious. “Then start sleeping with her. Look, if you’re not into her, if you can’t get it up around her, let Dax do it. He gets a hard-on from the woman who serves him coffee every day and she’s got to be eighty-two.”

  “I fucking do not.” A surly voice reminded him that he and Roman weren’t alone. Dax was watching Lara, connected to Connor by a comm system worn in each of their ears. “And she’s not eighty-two. She’s a very youthful fifty. You know fifty is the new thirty, according to one of her magazines.”

  “He’s yelling at you, isn’t he?” Roman was grinning again, his friendly smile taking the place of his everyday shark expression.

  “Yeah, but he also told me enough to know that he fucked her. Really, Dax? You slept with the coffee lady?”

  “And her daughter. I have to say it was one of my wilder nights, and now I get half off all coffee products,” Dax admitted. “And you should make something up because if Roman finds out how deep you’re in with this girl, he’ll move heaven and earth to replace you.”

  “He’s not my boss.”

  Roman’s expression sharpened as though he could almost hear what was going on. “Who’s not your boss?”

  “Dumbass,” Dax said in his ear.

  He was a legend in the Agency for not fucking up. He was smooth and cool and always got the job done. He did not give up an operation because the woman he was investigating might be offended.

  “I was talking about Gabe. He’s been bugging Dax to persuade me to call. He just wants an update, but he’s not my boss so he can wait with the rest of you.” Connor reached into his pocket. He’d made a mold of her apartment key the same day she’d given him her spare. God only knew how many other people had one. He handed it to Roman. “This is Lara’s apartment key. I’ll tell you when to come so I can leave the dead bolt undone. You’ll have to deal with the surveillance cameras.”

  “Not a problem. I actually know someone in her building. I’ll set up a meeting with her and no one will question the president’s chief of staff bringing a few security guards along.” Roman looked down at his watch and his feet started moving again, jogging in place. “We’ll take her down, brother. You’ll see. It’ll be easy. And talk to Gabe. I don’t know what’s up with the two of you, but I can’t stand being the go-between. What are you going to do? Throw him a bachelor party and not talk to him the whole time?”

  He hadn’t even considered it. Gabe was getting married, and they’d barely spoken since that night at the Crawford building where Connor had taken down their enemies in a blood bath. Gabe thought Connor had put his job before their friendship. He had no idea what Connor had sacrificed. Thankfully, Zack had smoothed things over with Langley, but he was still on administrative leave pending the investigation. He could still lose his job for his decisions that night. And Connor simply couldn’t forget the way one of his oldest friends had looked at him.

  Like he was an animal.

  “I think I’ll have to skip the bachelor party and the wedding, for that matter. I’ll be back on the job.” He hoped. He would immediately put in for a foreign assignment. Someplace dangerous and deadly. Someplace without a single fairy princess in sight.

  “Come on, man. We already lost Mad. We can’t lose you, too. You’re coming and don’t think I can’t make that happen. I made a promise a long time ago that I wouldn’t let you fade off into the shadows and shit. And don’t worry about your job, though I wish you’d quit and come work for us. Zack would put you in charge of personal security in a heartbeat, and then you wouldn’t have to hide from the press or all the people who want to kill you.”

  “What’s the fun in that?” It wasn’t sarcastic, exactly. He’d gotten used to the adrenaline rush, and what he’d discovered was people got lazy when they weren’t on the edge. And someone always wanted to kill him. Better to never forget and never let his guard down.

  “I’ll let it go for now. Call me. Tonight or tomorrow if at all possible. I want to know what this chick has on Zack before we go into the election cycle. I can’t let the opposition sneak anything past me. So get me the intel I need, brother. Speaking of intelligence, does that dog have any?”

  Lincoln was on his back, rubbing himself all over the ground, his tongue lolling around. It was what he did when desperate for someone to rub his belly.

  “Nope, not a lick.” Rather like himself.

  Roman laughed and jogged away.

  “He’s right about Gabe. You have to talk to him sooner or later,” Dax said in his ear. “But how are you going to get Roman into her place if you’re not sleeping with her? When the hell are you going to sleep with her anyway? Don’t tell me you don’t want her. I see you. You don’t watch her back. You watch her ass. That’s got to be the world’s most protected backside.”

  He wasn’t sure where Dax was, so he held up his hand and flipped him the bird, much to the chagrin of a passing group of what looked like elementary school kids on a field trip.

  “Very nice, Connor. Yeah, you taught them something,” Dax laughed in his ear—then stopped. “Hey, I think I’m not the only one watching your girl.”

  Connor tugged on Lincoln’s leash and the dog rolled back over. “Where?”

  “I’m watching from a bench approximately a hundred yards east of the subject. A man in a ball cap, jeans, and a black T-shirt has circled three times around her. He wants me to think he’s talking on a cell, but he’s taking pictures of her. The damn rent-a-cops haven’t noticed. Should I pursue?”

  “Not on your life.” Because it might mean hers. He didn’t want to leave her unprotected for a second. “But get me pictures. Anything you can while you’re still watching her back. I’m two minutes away.”

  He scooped up the dog and started to jog.

  * * *

  Lara sighed as her dad glanced down at his cell phone. He stood up from the bench she’d been sharing with him and Kiki. She was fairly sure she knew what was coming next.

  “Honey, I have to take this. I’ll be right back.” Her father gave that expression she thought of as his sad-senator, “the world needs me” look.

  “Sure.” It was a good thing she’d thought to ask Kiki to come. Meeting with her dad often ended in her sitting alone while he was on the phone if her mom wasn’t around. She’d managed to get her mother to stay in Napa for the week so Kiki had been her best bet.

  “Good, now we can girl talk,” Kiki said, leaning in. She looked around at the two guards her father had brought with him. They were very professional-looking men in their dark suits and mirrored aviators. She would bet they would never allow themselves to take doggy duty. Of course, Connor wouldn’t stand around all puffed up with self-importance. Having these men screamed “Hey, look at me; I’m so important I need a bodyguard.” Connor simply sat at her side, never giving away how dangerous he could be.

  She knew how quick he was in the field. Now the real question was how much damage he could do to her heart. “I don’t know if we should talk around them.”

  Kiki’s nose wrinkled as she dismissed the duo. “I don’t think they care. Besides, you haven’t called or come by in days, and the one day I tried coming by your place, no one answered.”

  “Oh, my washer is on the fritz and Connor won’t let me bring in a repairman because apparently they all moonlight as assassins, so I had to use the basement laundry. That was superfun. I got to fold my granny panties in front of Connor.” And she’d ended up folding his sleek boxers alongside her clothes. She’d told herself she’d taken his little pile of clothes with hers because it only made sense to save water and energy. It wasn’t some deep-seated cavewoman need to ensure her man wasn’t forced to wear clothes he’d picked up off the cave floor and sniffed.

  “You could have used mine. Next time tell Connor he can scan my apartment for assassins. Then you can do your laundry and we can gossip and drink. I’m dying to know what’s going on with Hottie McHotPants, and I can’t wait a minute longer. He is looking fine, by the way.”

  He’d looked a little mad when she’d waved him off to walk Lincoln, but she wasn’t sure she felt comfortable talking about what she needed to say with him anywhere in the vicinity.

  She felt his eyes on her, watching as always. When she looked up and saw him circling back around with her dog, she felt . . . comfortable. She wouldn’t have imagined it, but his presence seemed to soothe her as though nothing bad could happen as long as he was around. Everywhere she went, she could feel his gaze on her and hear those words in her head.

  I want you.

  She’d told herself to be professional, but it wasn’t working. She dreamed about him at night, like he’d managed to plant a seed in her head with his offer to let her explore their chemistry, and it had grown and shoved out all other thoughts.

  She dreamed about what would have happened if that elevator door had never opened. She fantasized about him shoving her against the wall and pushing her skirt up and getting between her legs.

  “He is looking well. We’ve come to a meeting of minds.” Well, they had come to a sort of agreement. She did her job and he did his. She cooked twice a day, but she was starting to wonder if Connor wasn’t a little like Lincoln. Lack of meat had made him crabby. He ate, but it was grudgingly.

  How could anything ever work between them?

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Kiki asked with a scowl. “A meeting of minds? That’s not the part of him you should be meeting up with.”

  “It means that we understand we’re opposites who have to work together, so we’re keeping necessary space between us.” Except he’d sat right next to her the night before. He’d plopped down on the couch as she’d watched the news, and their hips had touched. She’d meant to mention it to him, meant to move over, but then he’d looked so comfy that she hadn’t wanted to move or disturb him. But then she’d kind of leaned closer. Only the pinging of the oven had stopped her from melting against him.

  “Why?” Kiki rolled her eyes. “God, you’re doing it again.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Look, I get that you have your convictions and you think that one day your vegan prince is going to come, but you have to see that it’s silly to expect a man to check every item off your list.”

  That made her sound like a complete idiot. “I am not trying to check off some list.”

  “Really? You won’t explore anything between you and Connor because Niall the Great meets all your criteria.”

  “Niall the Great?”

  “It’s what I call him. Tom calls him Niall the Douche. He’s, like, your perfect guy. Same political convictions, rabid vegan. Hell, he works for Greenpeace.”

  “He’s also married.”

  Kiki’s jaw dropped. “What?”

  It wasn’t right or fair, but she’d kind of been okay with Connor’s edicts since they’d kept her from having to tell Kiki how badly she’d screwed up. “He’s married. I bet he lied about a bunch of other stuff, too. Likely, he never worked for Greenpeace. He’s probably off somewhere clubbing seals as we speak.”

  “Oh, honey. How did you find out?”

  “Connor. He made Niall tell me. It was awful.” She’d cried all evening and then slept like a baby because Connor had been there with her. Now she couldn’t sleep at all. She got up in the middle of the night for water just so she could make sure he was still there, as if his mere presence reassured her.

  “I knew there was something wrong with that douche bag. You can’t just meet someone online and expect to really get to know them.”

  “We talked for hours. I thought it was better that way because we could get to know each other’s mind before getting the bodies involved.” She knew exactly what Kiki was going to say. She was naive.

  “You’re so naive, sweetie. Bodies are always involved. And a person doesn’t show you who they really are on the Internet. You have to stop trying to find your perfect vegan lover and find the right one.”

  That wasn’t exactly fair. “I’ve dated plenty of omnivores. They’re the ones who can’t bend for me.”

  Kiki sat back on the bench as though settling in for a nice long argument. “So Connor’s been eating takeout every night?”

  She’d been a little surprised when he sat down with her for dinner that first night after their fight. He’d just taken his spot across from her and asked where his plate was. She’d set another place and then they’d found a nice routine. “No. He eats what I cook, but he did buy booze. It’s nonorganic and I’m fairly certain it wouldn’t pass the fair trade test.”

  Kiki pointed at her. “There. Right there. Not everyone has the same values you do, hon. This is what you do to every single person who gets close to you. I love you, but I’m constantly waiting for you to figure out that I’m not good enough.”

  Lara shook her head, horrified that she felt that way. “That’s not true. I would never think that way. I know I talk politics a lot, but I don’t expect everyone to do what I say.”

  Kiki suddenly had tears in her eyes. “I don’t know. I’ve done things you wouldn’t approve of.”

  What was Kiki hiding? She always seemed so upbeat. Was she really so close-minded that her best friend didn’t feel as if she could talk to her? “I might not approve, but I would still love you. Kiki, people do stupid stuff all the time. God, I run a tabloid. I have no room to judge. I would just try to help you.”

  “But you are judging. You’re judging Connor without really giving him a shot. He’s trying.”