More Than a Mission by Caridad Piñeiro Page A

“If I knew who did it, I would kill them.”
    Her hand stilled. Her eyebrows knitted together as she contemplated his words. Finally, in a tone so soft he barely heard her, she said, “Then that would end two lives instead of one, wouldn’t it? Your’s and the killer’s.”
    She met his gaze then, dead on, her chin in a slightly defiant tilt. Her sherry-colored eyes had deepened to the color of a fine aged cognac. He was hard pressed to know whether she was challenging him or troubled by the prospect of what he had claimed he would do.
    Given the Sparrow’s track record, he couldn’t imagine that she would be worried about his coming after her. She’d proven herself too worthy an opponent already. As for the possibility that she was challenging him, that would mean that he had maybe blown his cover, and she knew he was referring to her and Mitch.
    If he had done the latter, there was possibly one way to know for sure. “His name was Mitch,” he said and waited for her reaction.
    â€œMitch? Was he the friend who was killed?” she asked, no hint of any recognition on her face.
    He went for broke. “Someone knifed him in an alleyway in Rome.”
    No hint again of anything on her face or in her tone indicated she had a clue what he was talking about. “Was it a robbery? Or a fight over something?”
    â€œDoes it matter?” he replied and finally her face reflected some emotion—pain.
    â€œNo, it doesn’t. Dead is dead. Out of your life. Never to hold you again. Or laugh with you.”
    She whirled in her seat, then started up the car and pulled onto the road again. As she drove, she occasionally swiped at her eyes, but said nothing else.
    Great. He had made her cry. He hated to see women cry. Call him a sucker, but the waterworks always did him in.
    And somehow, he couldn’t imagine the Sparrow allowing herself the luxury of tears. Which just confused him even more. Elizabeth’s words and actions contradicted what he had expected.
    Again he told himself to remember that the Sparrow was likely a sociopath and perfectly capable of such a deception. Walker would remind him of that. He suspected the earpiece he still wore had exceeded the range for transmission back to the hotel. A shame. If Walker had been listening in, he might have been able to get a better read on Elizabeth.
    Elizabeth, he thought and examined her again. The pale-pink scarf securing her hair matched the polka dots in her shirt. The color brought out the hints of red in her lush hair. The wind was tossing about the few strands that had escaped the scarf. She must have sensed him watching her for she glanced his way for a moment before returning her attention to the road.
    â€œWhat’s so interesting?” she asked, seemingly uncomfortable with his perusal.
    â€œYou. You’re beautiful,” he said, wanting to change the mood that had taken over since their earlier discussion. Hoping that change would lead to other things. He told himself that was what was necessary for him to break down her barriers and really determine what was going on with her.
    But it wasn’t a lie that he found her… attractive wasn’t quite the right word. She was…stunning. Interesting. A woman with multiple layers he wanted to peel back. He suspected that so far he had only managed to scrape the first few layers.
    She smiled and a touch of pink in a shade darker than her scarf stained her cheeks. Sparing him yet another glance, she said, “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
    Grinning, he replied, “Only the pretty ones.”

Chapter 11
    E lizabeth drove around a bend in the road that led out of the woods and to the first of her regular stops. Up ahead, another car was already parked at one side of the road while along the other, a fence kept an assortment of goats and cows in an emerald-colored pasture thick with summer grass.
    She slowed as she pulled up