Disco plastered himself to her leg. She sat uneasily on the sofa while Liam paced.
She toyed with her dog’s leash, weaving the rough hemp length between her fingers. “What happens next?”
“We wait for my friend.” He pivoted to face her just as the door opened again.
Rachel shot to her feet, her dog’s ears radaring forward.
A man and woman stepped in—one in uniform, the other in civilian clothes. Not surprising, since the OSI was a mix of military and civilian employees. Still, Rachel was caught off guard. She’d expected older grim secret service–looking sorts, given that this building was full of grizzled men in camo and nondescript suits. The man—probably in his early thirties, despite a surplus of gray in his salt-and-pepper hair—wore a blue air force uniform and a huge grin. The woman—Liam’s “friend”—sported sleek designer slacks and sky-high heels and brought with her an air of crisp efficiency and subtle perfume.
“Sylvia.” Liam stepped forward, his hand falling to rest familiarly on the woman’s shoulder. “Thanks for meeting us so quickly.”
Sylvia patted his wrist quickly before he pulled away. “Absolutely. We’ll do our best to sort this out.” She gestured to the man beside her. “This is my associate, Captain Bernard. And I assume this is Ms. Flores? I’m Special Agent Cramer.”
Standing, Rachel thrust out her hand and shook hands with both of them. “Yes, and thank you. I know you’re here because of Liam, but still, I’m grateful.”
Sylvia tucked her iPad under her arm. “That’s what friends are for—and it also happens to be my job.”
Friends, or more? If it had been more, then it was in the past. That much she was sure of. Liam had always been straight with her. While he may have had three wives—God, that freaked her out—he had a code about being faithful. He wouldn’t have kissed one woman in the car while dating another woman.
But if Sylvia Cramer was in his past, was this his type? Sylvia, who wore sleek black designer pants and a white silk shirt, crisp pleats and her lanyard precisely aligned? Her pearl earrings matched her pearly white perfect teeth, which were a little large in a way that made her smile seem… off. But then, all that might be jealousy, since this woman could have leaped out of an airplane without a hair sliding out of place.
Sylvia gestured to the door. “Liam, if you wouldn’t mind stepping out, please? Captain Bernard will accompany you.”
As if there were really a question in there anywhere. And she’d used his first name, just as he’d used hers.
Rachel chewed her kissed-tender bottom lip.
“Of course.” Liam turned to Rachel, squeezing her shoulder, and yes, she wanted to believe there was something more when he touched her. Especially with his kiss still imprinted on her lips and brain. “I’ll be just a few feet away if you need me.”
The door clicked closed behind Liam and Captain Bernard. Was it her imagination that it hissed like a portal, trapping her in a vacuum-sealed chamber with someone who’d shifted from ally to jailer?
Her inquisitor pulled a Coke from her purse and popped the top. Offering the soda can, she nodded back to the sofa, green with an iron framework. “Make yourself comfortable. I wish I had something to offer your dog, too. Would you like me to call for a bowl of water?”
“Thank you. If we stay here too long, then yes, he will need that and a trip outside.” Rachel wasn’t fooled for a second by the show of niceties. The woman was trying to work an angle, get closer with the drink and the concern for Disco.
Which should have been fine.
Special Agent Cramer actually was here to help, right? She’d come in late at night just because Liam called. Except Rachel felt the investigator’s suspicion all the way to her toes. This agent was a person who didn’t trust anyone.>Her chest went tight. She was far from Posh Spice. More like a mustard seed.
Her confidence evaporated as she neared the house and considered locking herself inside as she’d done for the past seven years. Considered. And resisted.
Even if this was only about tonight, she wouldn’t miss out on the chance to be alone with Brandon.
***
Liam pulled over onto the shoulder of the road, behind a row of palm trees, and killed the headlights. Finally, he was certain they were not being followed. They were safe, for now at least. Late-night traffic whipped past, headlamps streaking through the night as if there hadn’t been a freaking life-and-death car chase on a bridge less than five minutes ago. At least none of the cars was her blue SUV with a dented front fender.
Until…
There it went. Her SUV with the vanity license plate on the front and scrapes down the side. Then it was gone. Past them and down the highway, police cars on its tail.
She relaxed back in her seat. “Liam, I am sorry to have dragged you into this mess.”
His fists gripped the steering wheel as tightly as he clenched his jaw. He forced himself to relax enough to speak. “I’m glad you did, because now it ends.”
“You can tell them it’s not my imagination.” Her joke fell flat.
But then, he wouldn’t have laughed if she’d been a Grade A stand-up comic right now. Damn straight, she wasn’t imagining anything. While he admired her grit, he couldn’t find anything inside him except a deep rage and intense need to haul her close, safe. To hell with the past six months.