Danger Close by Kaylea Cross Page B

watched him work. His knife skills were good, but she knew he hadn’t gained them by slicing up salad ingredients. To stop herself from thinking about him using that knife on human flesh, she turned back to washing the baby spinach leaves she’d placed in a colander. “So, whose name was on the bottom of that piece of paper?”
    Wade paused for a fraction of a second before he resumed slicing the pepper into neat strips. “Brayden Schafer.” He practically growled the name.
    She turned off the tap and stole a sideways glance at him, noting the scowl on his face. “You know him?”
    He nodded. “We served together. In SF.”
    Whoa. Betrayed by a fellow Green Beret? Erin stopped and turned to face him, incredulous. “And they think he’s the one who set us—you—up?”
    His jaw tensed. “Evidence looks pretty convincing so far.”
    “But you think they’re wrong.”
    Wade lowered the knife to the cutting board, his fingers still wrapped tight around the handle. “It’s way over the line, even for him.”
    She waited for him to continue, but he stared down at the knife, seeming lost in his own thoughts. Treading carefully, she asked, “What happened?”
    He cut her a sideways glance, then back down as he resumed cutting, his strokes even and precise. “We had a kind of rivalry going in our SF days. Friendly one. But after, when we did contract work together, things changed. During one mission things turned to shit and he made a bad call. I stepped in to correct it, and after that…” He shrugged, the motion tight, stiff. “He blamed me for the smear on his reputation. And that guy holds a helluva grudge. But setting me up to die through Rahim’s network? I don’t think so. He’s a piece of work, yeah, but he’s a patriot and loyal to his brothers. He might hate my guts, but that still doesn’t mean he’d do something like this.”
    She digested all that in silence, afraid to speak in case it made him clam up. He’d just strung more words together in the past minute than he had the entire time she’d known him, with the exception of the conversation about Rahim last night. “Well, I guess they’ll find out the real story once they question him.”
    He nodded, and it seemed like his shoulders weren’t as rigid as they had been at the start of the conversation. “Whaddya want me to do with this pepper?” He gestured at the neatly sliced pile of red cubes with the knife.
    She grabbed a big bowl from the cupboard beside the sink and set it next to him. “Here, just toss them in there.” She pan fried some sliced-up chicken breasts while he finished prepping the veggies. When it was ready she tossed the veggies in some dressing, plated the salad with some chicken and sliced strawberries on top, then added some crumbled goat cheese and chopped pistachio nuts. “Look okay?” she asked him.
    “Looks great.” He took the plates. “Want to eat in the living room?”
    “Sure.” She followed him in and took a seat on the couch. He handed her a plate and stood there hesitating a moment, but rather than sit on the floor as he had last night, he took the opposite end of the couch, sitting cross-legged with the plate balanced on his calves. She watched him fork up a bite and chew it, her gaze drawn to his mouth as he made a sound of pleasure. “This is good.”
    “Thanks.” And way better for his digestive system than the pizza had been.
    They ate in companionable silence and he took the dishes into the kitchen, telling her he’d clean up. Not about to argue, she turned on the TV and was half-engrossed in a show when he came back out. He stood in the entryway, as though unsure whether he should come in or not. “Want to watch a movie together?” she asked.
    He put his hands in his pockets and gave a shrug. “Sure.” He sat back on the far end of the couch.
    She flipped through the menu and settled on an action flick. “This one okay?” she asked, glancing at him. He probably hadn’t watched a