Soft Target by Mia Kay Page A

He should have gone home to change, but he couldn’t wait to get here.
    “Did they finish installing the alarm?” he asked, trying to focus.
    Maggie nodded. “All done. What do you want to drink?”
    “Water, please.”
    “You look like hell,” she said as she handed him the bottle. “Where have you been?”
    “To Boise, and I’m fine. I just have a headache.” That feels like someone is yanking my spine through my skull, and I’m not sure if it’s aspirin or guilt chewing a hole through my stomach. If I start drinking, I’ll get shit-faced and end up sleeping here. Visions of Maggie filled his unruly brain. He wondered if she had tan lines and if she tasted as sweet as she looked. Did she moan the same way she laughed—deep and husky?
    Keeping himself on a ration of water, he put as much distance between them as possible. Sitting at the back of the room all night, he watched Maggie’s interactions in the light of what he’d learned this morning. She laughed, talked and handed out refills. But now he noticed when she singled out the people from her board meeting list. He watched her listen. He watched her work.
    When the last patron left, he fell into a routine that had become comforting. The thump of chairs on tables, the swish and rattle while she swept, warm water on his hands while he wiped down the bar.
    She walked him out, and he locked the door as the bleat of the alarm assured him she was safe. Then he sat in his truck and waited for her to come to the window and wave goodbye.
    He was halfway home when his guilt doubled. He’d told another lie, and he wasn’t sure which made him feel worse—lying to Maggie, or lying about Maggie.
    * * *
    From under the trees, crouched in the underbrush, the night quieted around him as Maggie’s lights went out upstairs. Now was the perfect time. Picking up the quilt, he stepped out of the shadows. Halfway to the door, the porch light flared to life, twice as bright as it had been yesterday and illuminating the camera aimed at the door.
    The upstairs lights came back on. No! She shouldn’t be awake. It would ruin the game. He scrambled around the porch and hid under the eaves as her window slid open.
    “Hello?” Maggie called down.
    He held his breath and waited until she convinced herself it was nothing. Once it was dark again, he slid around to the office window he’d used in the past. It hadn’t locked properly for years.
    There was a security sticker on it, and the red light of a sensor glowed in the darkness.
    Damn him! Damn that pushy, nosy man. Gray. He’d come in here and changed everything. But that wasn’t enough. He’d locked Maggie away, like a princess in a tower. He was keeping her away from everyone. And if it wasn’t him shadowing her, it was Max.
    The patrolman was easier to fool. Maggie had found a way to do it today, hadn’t she? She’d slipped free and managed to play their game this morning.
    Draping the quilt over his arm, he walked away, careful to keep clear of the security light and out of camera range. She’d come to him. He could wait.

Chapter Eight
    Shelby stared out the windshield at the strip mall housing a truck stop, restaurant and hotel. The squat buildings were surrounded by a freshly paved parking lot. It was the last outpost of civilization. As far from DC as she could imagine. Instead of letting it depress her, she focused on her conversation.
    “What if I came alone?” she asked.
    “Shelby, my supervisor is a dinosaur. He’s going to worry about training you only to have you move on if you’re not settled. And his wife is leery of any single female agent.”
    As she rolled down the window for air, tar fumes stung Shelby’s nose. “I appreciate the insight, Marian. My fiancé and I will discuss our plans and I’ll get back to you before the job closes.”
    Disconnecting the call, she stared at the empty road and waited for the approaching vehicle she could hear. It appeared as a spot, grew steadily larger and