“I’d call you by your real name, but I don’t know it.”
The bomb dropped. No one moved. Connor spared her a quick glance but Ben didn’t react at all to the cryptic information.
No way would she let this guy, this detective she didn’t know and who took far too much pleasure in her discomfort, set the terms for her reveal. The news was private and terrible and something she wanted to forget. It would not become a line in his report or something he could play with to try to get the upper hand.
She lifted her chin. “Jocelyn Raine is my real name.”
That wasn’t a lie. She’d changed it legally. A closed-door, filed-under-seal case in another county, but she’d gone through all the legal channels once she was guaranteed the information would be almost impossible to find.
“What did it used to be?” the detective asked.
And she knew the guarantee about privacy had been blown. If this guy knew, Ethan might know. The reality of what that meant sent a tremor of fear shaking through her bones.
Ben’s arm tightened around her. “You heard her. She gave you her name.”
But Ben had to know what this meant. He was a smart man. The idea of him backing her up helped her spine stiffen again. She’d been through so much. She could get through this, too.
Faced with a wall of support against him, the detective’s hubris dimmed a bit. “The woman you are so keen on protecting has some secrets. My guess is those secrets followed her to Annapolis. That makes them relevant to my case.”
“That’s not true.” She refused to let that be true. Ethan Reynolds was in prison. He wasn’t out and she knew because she checked every week.
“Then tell me who you really are.”
She didn’t move. “Jocelyn Raine.”
Chapter Eight
Ben sat on the edge of the bed, the one in the second-floor guest room of the Corcoran Team building, also known as Connor’s house. Ben had showered and changed into an extra pair of jeans and one of Connor’s tees. Not his bedroom. Ben had slept here earlier, right after the NCIS scandal broke. He’d only recently moved into his own place when he moved from Quantico to Annapolis, but Connor’s house provided security and Ben knew how vital that could be when everything blew apart.
Between rounds of questioning by Willoughby and a status report from Joel, it had taken hours to get everyone moved around and settled in.
The bottom story of the brick Federal-style building housing the Corcoran offices had closed down for the night. The second floor was alive with activity, or at least three adults sitting in three separate rooms.
Ben stayed in his assigned space, stewing and fighting back the urge to storm across the hall and knock on the door. He’d wasted precious time tonight getting fussed over by Jocelyn...or whatever her name was. She changed his bandages and re-stitched his stomach, all while Joel watched over them. Hard to get privacy with everyone milling around.
By the time Connor shut the lights off and declared work off-limits, Ben was itching to grab her. Being close to her for hours, while she wore an overly sunny smile and pretended the conversation with the detective hadn’t happened, had worn down Ben’s defenses. He fought back a nasty adrenaline rush and struggled to hold on to his temper.
In the past, when he raised his voice, she had shut down. He needed her listening and talking.
Whoever she really was.
He rubbed a hand over his face and groaned. Not that he cared if she’d made a name change. He understood if something in her past required it, but she knew they were facing down danger and to not share a piece of information endangered them all. He had no idea how he could protect her if she refused to trust him.
And that was what really ticked him off. She held back. Maybe fear no longer dulled the sheen to her eyes, but she kept him at a distance. He wanted in.
He was so lost in his thoughts he almost missed the light knock on the door. When it opened
The bomb dropped. No one moved. Connor spared her a quick glance but Ben didn’t react at all to the cryptic information.
No way would she let this guy, this detective she didn’t know and who took far too much pleasure in her discomfort, set the terms for her reveal. The news was private and terrible and something she wanted to forget. It would not become a line in his report or something he could play with to try to get the upper hand.
She lifted her chin. “Jocelyn Raine is my real name.”
That wasn’t a lie. She’d changed it legally. A closed-door, filed-under-seal case in another county, but she’d gone through all the legal channels once she was guaranteed the information would be almost impossible to find.
“What did it used to be?” the detective asked.
And she knew the guarantee about privacy had been blown. If this guy knew, Ethan might know. The reality of what that meant sent a tremor of fear shaking through her bones.
Ben’s arm tightened around her. “You heard her. She gave you her name.”
But Ben had to know what this meant. He was a smart man. The idea of him backing her up helped her spine stiffen again. She’d been through so much. She could get through this, too.
Faced with a wall of support against him, the detective’s hubris dimmed a bit. “The woman you are so keen on protecting has some secrets. My guess is those secrets followed her to Annapolis. That makes them relevant to my case.”
“That’s not true.” She refused to let that be true. Ethan Reynolds was in prison. He wasn’t out and she knew because she checked every week.
“Then tell me who you really are.”
She didn’t move. “Jocelyn Raine.”
Chapter Eight
Ben sat on the edge of the bed, the one in the second-floor guest room of the Corcoran Team building, also known as Connor’s house. Ben had showered and changed into an extra pair of jeans and one of Connor’s tees. Not his bedroom. Ben had slept here earlier, right after the NCIS scandal broke. He’d only recently moved into his own place when he moved from Quantico to Annapolis, but Connor’s house provided security and Ben knew how vital that could be when everything blew apart.
Between rounds of questioning by Willoughby and a status report from Joel, it had taken hours to get everyone moved around and settled in.
The bottom story of the brick Federal-style building housing the Corcoran offices had closed down for the night. The second floor was alive with activity, or at least three adults sitting in three separate rooms.
Ben stayed in his assigned space, stewing and fighting back the urge to storm across the hall and knock on the door. He’d wasted precious time tonight getting fussed over by Jocelyn...or whatever her name was. She changed his bandages and re-stitched his stomach, all while Joel watched over them. Hard to get privacy with everyone milling around.
By the time Connor shut the lights off and declared work off-limits, Ben was itching to grab her. Being close to her for hours, while she wore an overly sunny smile and pretended the conversation with the detective hadn’t happened, had worn down Ben’s defenses. He fought back a nasty adrenaline rush and struggled to hold on to his temper.
In the past, when he raised his voice, she had shut down. He needed her listening and talking.
Whoever she really was.
He rubbed a hand over his face and groaned. Not that he cared if she’d made a name change. He understood if something in her past required it, but she knew they were facing down danger and to not share a piece of information endangered them all. He had no idea how he could protect her if she refused to trust him.
And that was what really ticked him off. She held back. Maybe fear no longer dulled the sheen to her eyes, but she kept him at a distance. He wanted in.
He was so lost in his thoughts he almost missed the light knock on the door. When it opened
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