Maverick (Elite Ops 2)

“Why wasn’t I told the truth?” She wasn’t angry now. The anger had been burned out of her by the truth that when this was over, Micah would be gone forever. “Did you think I couldn’t handle it?”

“We didn’t have time,” Kira stated as the three women moved to the kitchen table. “We got a workable plan together and arranged for you to meet Micah. Just meet him, Risa, to see if you could tolerate being around him. You’ve not exactly been agreeable to dating in the past six years.”

Risa’s gaze sliced toward the other woman as she smiled thinly. “Yeah, being the belle of the ball wasn’t high on my list of priorities. Could have had something to do with all those nasty littl

e nightmares that kept plaguing me.”

Kira nodded at that. “You’re stronger than I ever believed you were. But we couldn’t risk telling you before you met Micah. We weren’t certain of your strength or your ability to handle what you were facing. That’s why it was agreed that we’d wait and have the federal attorney meet with you instead.”

“Probably a wise move.” Risa nodded.

“Risa, we lied to protect you,” Emily said then. “Micah truly is a friend, as you’re aware; he’s just not an active or retired SEAL.”

“Why Micah?” She stared at the three women then. “What did they do, draw straws to see who got to babysit the neurotic mark?”

She didn’t ask the question in an angry manner. Anger wasn’t simmering; it wasn’t even lit. She was curious, but the truth of the answer frightened her.

“Micah demanded this assignment,” Kira told her, a smile curling her lips. “After a few choice phrases in Hebrew concerning Orion’s parentage. He wouldn’t let anyone else take the job.”

“You know Hebrew?” Risa asked then, her heart pounding, the words Micah had whispered to her that morning still resounding through her head.

Kira nodded. “A bit. Not a lot. Enough to know that Orion’s parents are likely lame camels lying in their own waste. Or something to that effect.”

Risa grinned at the thought of that. For a moment, a brief moment, she considered asking Kira what the phrase Micah had whispered to her meant, then changed her mind. Whatever it was, it was something between the two of them alone. Maybe later, after he was gone, she would figure it out. Until then, she would let Micah hold his secrets.

“Risa, the lies weren’t so bad,” Emily said, her blue eyes somber and filled with regret. “It was for your life.”

Risa stared back at her friend for long moments before she nodded slowly.

“I would have done the same for any of you,” she finally whispered, knowing it was the truth. “The friendship wasn’t in danger, Emily.”

No, only her life was in danger from a killer who had never been caught, and one who had never failed.

“Coffee.” Risa turned as the timer went off. “We could have used the wine, but it’s a little early for it.”

“Hey, it’s five o’clock somewhere,” Kira drawled. “I say we do the wine first, then the coffee.”

“We’re her bodyguards,” Morganna reminded the older woman with a laugh. “We can’t have wine.”

“Sure we can.” Kira grinned. “We just can’t get tipsy. Well, except for Risa. And I think a little tipsy wouldn’t hurt her in the least.”

Risa laughed at that, though she got the coffee cups down rather than the wineglasses.

Tipsy wouldn’t hurt her, but she didn’t want to be tipsy now. She didn’t want to miss a single moment that she could spend with Micah by shadowing it with alcohol.

“So, what was so important that Jordan needed Micah?” she asked as she set the coffee on the table, grabbed her own cup, and took her seat. “He doesn’t normally call this early.”

“A CIA operative has been watching you and Micah,” Kira told her. “Nik managed to capture her just before daybreak, and they’re questioning her at the moment. Micah’s their interrogation specialist.”

Risa inhaled slowly. “The CIA? Why would they be watching me?”

“I guess we’ll find out when Micah’s finished.” Kira shrugged, though her gaze was distinctly wary. “Are you sure you don’t want that wine?”

At the moment, she really wasn’t sure.

MICAH RESTRAINED a sigh as he walked into the spare bedroom and stared at the captive bound, gagged, and blindfolded in the wooden chair that sat against one wall, devoid of the disguise she had used while watching him and Risa each time they left the apartment building. He was the team’s interrogation specialist. This was his job, and he had to do it in a way that would hide his identity from this woman—a cousin he was fond of.

They were all screwed now.