Who the hell was General Sullivan, and why was he here?
Rachel was officially freaked out to have warranted a general’s attention. Except then, he hadn’t bothered to come in and interview her. He’d been called away on some emergency. She’d merely heard his gravelly voice speaking with Special Agent Cramer just beyond the opening doors, issuing orders before he was called away.
And then she’d been shuttled off to what Liam had called “some place safe.”
For now.
She hadn’t felt this claustrophobic since she’d been trapped in a mine after she and Disco once located a lost hiker. They’d waited for three hours underground, trapped by a rotten beam that had given way. Those three hours had seemed shorter than the three minutes she’d spent inside this “safe” location.
After her interview with Special Agent Sylvia Cramer had concluded, two official-looking cars had escorted them to base housing packed with rows of tan stucco homes. On the outer edges of the community, they’d actually pulled into the driveway of one of those homes.
She’d been surprised, expecting they would be sent to one of the temporary lodging facilities, more like a hotel or condo. Or housed in some vault in Sylvia Cramer’s top-secret bat cave. But this was a no-kidding three-bedroom house.
Not that it appeared anyone actually lived here.
It carried more of a model-home look and smell, with lots of cherrywood furniture that still sported a highly polished new sheen. The matchy-matchy blue and green striped sofa and wingbacks completed the decor. No personal photos. Stock framed images of beach sunsets and airplanes hung on the walls. Disco sniffed the dried moss around a potted silk palm tree.
Apparently General Sullivan had made special arrangements for them to use temporary lodgings on base with security guards outside, offering her protection until Brandon Harris could be located and his story looked into more deeply. As far as she was concerned, here was as good as anywhere else.
And Liam was here. They were linked in this now, and while she was still as afraid on base as off, she did trust Liam.
Which was strange, considering she’d known him for all of three weeks, six months ago.
She turned slowly in the living room. “So these are distinguished visitors’ quarters.”
“All the basics you could need are here—food, sodas,” he announced, pulling open a drawer on a sideboard. Except rather than place mats, he revealed, “They’ve even got shoulder boards and rank paraphernalia for any general in any branch of the services. Pick a star.”
Sure enough, one-star up to four-star ranks lined the inside of the drawer. “This is so surreal. I feel like I actually am in some TV show, with our protective detail outside. Except in the movies, room service always turns out to be a bad guy, or the villains kill the guards.”
“No one’s getting through to you.” His hands fell to her shoulders. “I won’t let them.”
He stood so close she could smell the coffee on his breath, and wow, but she was suddenly jonesing for a taste. She should step away. Should. But didn’t.
Rachel soaked up the warm comfort, the strong sensuality of his hands. The heat of him seared through her simple cotton shirt. “I appreciate what you’ve done for me today. I sprung this on you without warning and hauled you into a nightmare… I’m sorry.”
“I’m glad you came to me.”
Her heart sped up. Was he going to kiss her again, and to hell with the consequences? She could see the memory of that earlier kiss scrolling through his eyes.
“Rachel?”
“Yeah.” Was that breathy voice hers?
“Can I get you something to eat or drink?”
She exhaled hard. “I’m good. Thanks. Agent Cramer gave me enough Cokes to keep me awake all night.”
Backing away, he resumed his scoping out of the place. “You held up well in there. I know that had to be tough, getting grilled.” He played with lamp shades and peered out windows. “But she was only covering all her bases.”
Looking in lamps? Did he think the place might be bugged? That seemed extreme, but then she couldn’t have predicted anything that had happened to her recently.
She trailed behind him. “It’s tough knowing who to trust. I can’t blame her for doing her job.” She leaned closer to whisper. “Doesn’t it bother you that someone took my car from base? Brandon insists there’s a mole in his chain of command, and yet we’re here, on base?”
He shrugged. “Well, since the FBI and CIA aren’t listening to anything either of you has to say, this is as good as it gets, unless we strike out on our own. Regardless, I intend to keep you in sight at all times.”
On their own. Alone. Together. The notion sent a shiver of possibility through her. But it also brought a reminder that they had guards a simple shout away. While the briefest stroke of his gaze turned her inside out, sparking barely banked fires from their kiss earlier, there wasn’t a chance of testing out one of those beds together. One wayward noisy moan and they could have guns whipping out left and right. This place might be large, but it was far from private.
“You’re right. Of course.” She stepped away self-consciously until the backs of her legs bumped the sofa. She dropped to sit on the edge, crossing her arms over her tingling tight breasts.