Dare Me (Take Me 2)

He introduced Nikki to his mother, who offered to make lunch. But he told her, “We really have to go.”

“But you’ll both be back, right?” Mads anxiously asked.

“This evening, yes. For dinner,” he avowed.

Then they left the house and slid into the back of an awaiting Town Car.

Damen said, “So that’s the family.”

“They’re fantastic. I’m looking forward to getting to know them better. I really do love Mads’ hair. It’s gorgeous.”

“Yeah, I was a little worried the first time she told me she wanted multi-colored hair. Thankfully, we found the right stylist.”

They chatted amiably about this, both glad to have something to focus on other than the foreboding tension threatening the periphery.

They attempted to relax on the way to the ops campus. Unfortunately, it wasn’t entirely possible. Neither of them knew what they would encounter today. How it would all affect Nikki. What sort of new trauma she might be facing. Or what further hazardous situations.

Damen couldn’t stop himself from grinding over this, and he knew he gave off a razory vibe, because Nikki fidgeted beside him and that was not a common trait of hers.

He reached over and covered her hands with one of his as she was wringing them in her lap.

“Just keep trusting in me,” he quietly said.

She gave a nod. But said nothing.

Damen knew why.

They just might have some very disastrous truths headed their way…

If they even made it to the ops campus.

Damen’s driver said, “We’re being followed.”

30

Nikki gasped.

“Son of a bitch,” Damen grumbled. And was instantly on the phone to Garcia, reporting the situation.

“I’ve got your back,” she told him. “Maintain your destination.”

He turned to Nikki. “We’ll be fine. I’d anticipated this and kept Agent Garcia in the loop as to our travel plans.”

Nikki shot him a dubious look. “And what, exactly, is she going to do?”

“Whatever it takes to cut them off.”

Nikki’s teeth ground for a moment as she contemplated this. Then she felt compelled to ask, “What if they shoot out our tires or something?”

“Not on this street,” he told her. “Too much traffic.”

Now, her expression turned incredulous. “Damen, they’re terrorists! Do they really care about innocent bystanders and casualties of war?”

He shifted in his seat, turning to face her. “Nik. Be calm. Please.”

She glared at him.

He bit back a strained laugh. Okay, s