Secret Obsession. Robin Perini
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pattern I can predict. Unlike Reid and the Justice Department, I’m willing to use it. But this time on my terms.”
“Become bait?” He studied her, from her eyes to her guarded stance. He recognized another layer of emotion in every pore of her body. Resignation. She was ready to die. Well, he wouldn’t let it happen. “Do you have a weapon?” he challenged.
She opened her purse. “.45 caliber, hollow point ammo. Got it on the black market. Untraceable. Not that I care.”
“Kimber 1911. A .45’s got quite a kick.”
“I spend hours every week on the range and at the gym. I can handle it. I like the rear sight. Besides, it’ll blow a hole in him.” Her eyes went frosty. “He won’t get up again.
“If he comes to my apartment while I’m there, I have a super-shorty 12-gauge shotgun.” She sent a pointed glance at the small ready bag at her feet.
He hadn’t seen this spine of steel in her two years before, but he’d learned over time you didn’t really know a person until they had their back against the wall. Jack had probably known Lyssa was a fighter, but she definitely had more guts than Noah had imagined.
“The WitSec marshal was armed, and he had more training and experience,” Noah said, his voice soft and low. “Archimedes killed him. What makes you think you can do better?”
She clutched her purse—and the weapon—closer, but a flash of regret marred her expression before she shoved it away. She hadn’t perfected cloaking her emotions the way Noah had. She’d learned to quell them, though. Noah hated she’d been forced to use the skill. His ability to turn off his feelings made him doubt his humanity sometimes. It also gave him the ability to think on his feet. Lyssa had thrown him a curve. He’d have to adjust.
“How long have you been planning to go after him?” he asked.
“Since Reid brought me to Chicago. I knew if the FBI couldn’t locate him and put a case together, he’d eventually find me. I can’t risk...”
She swiped her hand down her face.
“Risk what?” Noah asked, watching as her face turned to stone before she averted her gaze. Noah’s instincts pinged a warning, that gut feeling that had kept him alive all these years. Every time he’d ignored the signs, he and his men had paid a heavy price. She was hiding something from him. Something important. “You’re taking a huge chance pulling out of WitSec. They have resources. Why are you really doing this, Lyssa?”
She zipped her purse and lifted her duffel to her shoulder. “WitSec failed Gil. And me. If I stay in the program, I’ll die anyway. Isn’t that enough reason?”
Her gaze shifted to the left. Why was she lying? He was here to help. He lifted the bag from her shoulder and his hand brushed her skin. The touch made his nerves tingle. He wanted to pull her close but he couldn’t. She was Jack’s. Instead, he shoved the urge aside and shouldered the duffel. “Reid wants you safe.”
“If he told you to hide me, just go home.” She reached out a hand for her things. “I won’t fight you and Archimedes. I can’t.”
Noah gripped the straps tighter. “Jack wouldn’t want you to die, Lyssa.”
Her arm dropped and she stumbled back as if he’d punched her. Noah refused to regret the words. Sometimes the end justified the means. He would keep her alive.
He owed Jack.
She swiped at her eyes, then blinked. “That was a cheap shot.”
“Did it work?”
She studied him, crossing her arms, feet apart, ready for battle. “Okay, Mr. Hotshot Spy Guy, what would you do? According to Reid, the FBI task force has no leads. Even when only Reid and Gil knew my location, Archimedes found me. He killed Gil and left me a message—”
“What message?” Noah interrupted. “Reid didn’t mention a message.”
“He wants me to be his. It was painted on my wall. In Gil’s blood.”
Her expression had frozen like stone, but Noah could see the effort in maintaining control. First the muscle at the base of her neck twitched, then her teeth bit into her lip. Finally, her shoulders slumped as if the energy required to keep up the front collapsed.
“No...no one else will d-die—” her voice broke “—because of me.”
Here was a glimpse of the woman who cared, the woman Jack had fallen for, who wore her emotions for all to see. She might try to put up walls, be a cold-blooded vigilante, but even Lyssa couldn’t keep her soft heart solid all the time.
Noah scratched his chin in resignation, the stubbly new beard not quite grown in yet. He’d thought he’d be heading back to Afghanistan before this call. “If I put you in a safe house, you won’t stay, will you?”
“He’d find me,” she said flatly. “So, what’s the point?”
Noah slipped his secure phone from his pocket. “If we do this, we need help. Right now Archimedes has the upper hand. We don’t know who’s giving him information or how he’s getting it.”
Lyssa grabbed his arm. “I told you. There’s a leak.”
“I’m not calling WitSec or even the higher-ups in the Justice Department,” he assured her. “Covert Technology Confidential is different. CTC isn’t government. Highly paid, highly screened. I’ve put my life in their hands more than once.”
She tugged at a gold chain around her neck. “I don’t know...”
“Lyssa, look at me.”
He wanted to see her face. He had to convince her.
She lifted her chin and those green eyes met his gaze with an unflinching challenge.
“I’m good at what I do, Lyssa. So are the people I work with. We can find Archimedes. We can take him.” He clasped her shoulders, slid his hands to her elbows, down her arms, then squeezed her ice-cold fingers. “Jack trusted me. So can you.”
She swallowed, and the gulp echoed between them. She looked down at the bag holding her weapon. One breath. Two breaths.
Had he persuaded her? He had this one chance. If she didn’t choose to go with him, he’d have to do something he really didn’t want to do—take her to the safe house against her will. He prayed she’d put her faith in him.
“Jack trusted you,” she said finally. “I’ll give you a chance, but if I get bad vibes, I won’t say goodbye. I’ll just disappear.”
“And I’ll be chasing after you until this is over.”
Noah let one of Lyssa’s hands go and dialed a number on the cell phone.
“Falcon?” the familiar voice answered through the phone. “Surprised to hear from you.”
Ransom Grainger, the head of CTC—formerly known as Hunter Graham, formerly known as Clay Griffin and a dozen other aliases—used Noah’s code name casually.
“Pretty good,” Noah said. “How’d you know it was me. This phone is secure.”
“Not from Zane.” Grainger chuckled. “It’s a good thing he’s on our side.... What are you doing in Chicago?”
“I need a favor,” Noah said, ignoring further proof of CTC’s tracking prowess. He’d need every advantage. “It’s a big one.”
“Name it.”
Lyssa pulled from his grip. Noah tried not to consider the loss of her touch. When she tugged at her bag, he slid it from his shoulder. She walked across the alley, crouched down and rummaged through her purse. She didn’t fool Noah. She listened intently to every word he said. One misstep and she’d take off.
“I need a full team. We may have to tap into WitSec.