even with Tommy and his other CIs helping him.
In the end, when he’d finally found a solid lead on who might have taken Gina and where she was being held, he’d been forced to phone it in anonymously to DHS because his own hands had been so severely tied. He hadn’t wanted her to spend one more minute with those al Sayika scumsuckers because of his own inability to mount a rescue.
Head bowed, she studied the bowl of soup before her. “How can I believe anything you say?” she quietly asked. “You’ve lied to me about everything— everything —from the moment we met.”
His heart squeezed. He opened his mouth to deny it, then snapped it shut. Lying was a way of life when you worked for the Agency. They’d met because she’d been his assignment. He’d been sent to stop her asking some very inconvenient questions about a woman who’d disappeared in conjunction with one of their covert operations. But once he’d seen her, talked to her, kissed her, made love to her . . .
“Our intimate relationship was not a lie,” he denied tightly.
She looked up. Accusation again swam in her big brown eyes. “Wasn’t it?”
“No . ”
He pushed off the counter angrily, and she jumped, knocking her chair over as she surged to her feet and backed away from him in fear.
Fuck it . He couldn’t take this another minute.
He stopped, exhaled, and said, “Eat your soup before it gets cold, then get some rest. I’m going out for a while.”
He felt her eyes on his back as he retrieved his spare weapon—a Beretta with the serial numbers filed off—from the bedroom and tucked it into an ankle holster. His SIG Sauer P226 Elite was already in its usual spot—in the front of his waistband under his T-shirt. Sliding on his black leather jacket, he grabbed his keys and went to the door. “I’m locking this from the outside,” he said. “There isn’t another key, so don’t bother tearing the place apart searching. But help yourself to whatever else you want.”
With that, he left the apartment, turning the key in the lock behind him with a firm snick .
Christ .
It took him all four flights of stairs going down to the street to master his anger. Not anger at her. Anger at himself. That he’d gotten into this ludicrous situation in the first place. If he’d only just done his job—seduced her to shut her up as ordered, then walked away when the deed was done—and not gotten emotionally involved. Not let himself fall for her body and grow dependent on her adoration, not start to think maybe, just maybe, he’d finally met a woman whose warmth and love could banish the perpetual coldness in his heart . . .
Fuck it .
None of that mattered now. His foolish, uncontrolled foray into the realm of emotions was over. All that mattered was keeping Gina safe from those who would harm her.
Hell, he should have brought her here days ago. With her safely hidden at his place, he wouldn’t have to follow her 24/7, trying vainly to protect her while she left herself ridiculously exposed to attack just to lure him out in the open. He’d been stupid, stupid, stupid, letting meaningless emotion influence his decisions. He knew better. Knew better. He’d spent his whole life ridding himself of those irrational impulses.
It wasn’t going to happen again.
But now he had to work fast. Everyone involved thought he was a traitor. Gina’d just confirmed that. Thanks to the witnesses after the attack, they’d know he was the one holding her now. No stone would be left unturned in the search for her—and him. If the real traitor found him and he disappeared, she’d be left out there all on her own.
He knew very well that STORM Corps was only using her as bait to bring down the al Sayika mole. He’d listened to enough of their conversations back at Haven Oaks to leave no doubt of their strategy. So if they believed the traitor had been caught, they’d assume she was safe, and cease their surveillance.
Gregg didn’t want to
In the end, when he’d finally found a solid lead on who might have taken Gina and where she was being held, he’d been forced to phone it in anonymously to DHS because his own hands had been so severely tied. He hadn’t wanted her to spend one more minute with those al Sayika scumsuckers because of his own inability to mount a rescue.
Head bowed, she studied the bowl of soup before her. “How can I believe anything you say?” she quietly asked. “You’ve lied to me about everything— everything —from the moment we met.”
His heart squeezed. He opened his mouth to deny it, then snapped it shut. Lying was a way of life when you worked for the Agency. They’d met because she’d been his assignment. He’d been sent to stop her asking some very inconvenient questions about a woman who’d disappeared in conjunction with one of their covert operations. But once he’d seen her, talked to her, kissed her, made love to her . . .
“Our intimate relationship was not a lie,” he denied tightly.
She looked up. Accusation again swam in her big brown eyes. “Wasn’t it?”
“No . ”
He pushed off the counter angrily, and she jumped, knocking her chair over as she surged to her feet and backed away from him in fear.
Fuck it . He couldn’t take this another minute.
He stopped, exhaled, and said, “Eat your soup before it gets cold, then get some rest. I’m going out for a while.”
He felt her eyes on his back as he retrieved his spare weapon—a Beretta with the serial numbers filed off—from the bedroom and tucked it into an ankle holster. His SIG Sauer P226 Elite was already in its usual spot—in the front of his waistband under his T-shirt. Sliding on his black leather jacket, he grabbed his keys and went to the door. “I’m locking this from the outside,” he said. “There isn’t another key, so don’t bother tearing the place apart searching. But help yourself to whatever else you want.”
With that, he left the apartment, turning the key in the lock behind him with a firm snick .
Christ .
It took him all four flights of stairs going down to the street to master his anger. Not anger at her. Anger at himself. That he’d gotten into this ludicrous situation in the first place. If he’d only just done his job—seduced her to shut her up as ordered, then walked away when the deed was done—and not gotten emotionally involved. Not let himself fall for her body and grow dependent on her adoration, not start to think maybe, just maybe, he’d finally met a woman whose warmth and love could banish the perpetual coldness in his heart . . .
Fuck it .
None of that mattered now. His foolish, uncontrolled foray into the realm of emotions was over. All that mattered was keeping Gina safe from those who would harm her.
Hell, he should have brought her here days ago. With her safely hidden at his place, he wouldn’t have to follow her 24/7, trying vainly to protect her while she left herself ridiculously exposed to attack just to lure him out in the open. He’d been stupid, stupid, stupid, letting meaningless emotion influence his decisions. He knew better. Knew better. He’d spent his whole life ridding himself of those irrational impulses.
It wasn’t going to happen again.
But now he had to work fast. Everyone involved thought he was a traitor. Gina’d just confirmed that. Thanks to the witnesses after the attack, they’d know he was the one holding her now. No stone would be left unturned in the search for her—and him. If the real traitor found him and he disappeared, she’d be left out there all on her own.
He knew very well that STORM Corps was only using her as bait to bring down the al Sayika mole. He’d listened to enough of their conversations back at Haven Oaks to leave no doubt of their strategy. So if they believed the traitor had been caught, they’d assume she was safe, and cease their surveillance.
Gregg didn’t want to
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