Manhunt in the Wild West by Jessica Andersen Page B

I trust.”
    She got the feeling the number of people he trusted could be counted on one finger, and that person was out of commission either temporarily or permanently.
    “Why not turn them in?” she asked again. “If you’re cut off, then your plan’s already shot, right? There’s no need to keep going. If you help recapture the escapees, then—”
    But he was already shaking his head. “Even in captivity, al-Jihad is threatening this country. He’s got people inside Homeland Security. He got to people inside your office. We suspect his network extends much farther than we ever guessed, which is why I had to break him out. He’ll make contact with his conspirators now, and he’ll be planning something big. I can guarantee that much.” His expression went grim and determined. “When those plans are in place, we’ll bring down his whole godforsaken network, not just a few players.”
    “But who is ‘we’?” she protested. “You just said you’re on your own. If you don’t have anyone else you can trust—”
    “That’s not your concern.”
    Chilled by his flat pronouncement, Chelsea wrapped her arms around herself. “What about me?”
    She didn’t know what she wanted him to say, didn’t know that anything could possibly make this entire conversation any less unreal than it felt at that moment.
    “I saved you,” he said flatly. “Now I need your help. Tomorrow, I want you to ensure that the office will be deserted and the security off-line after hours.”
    Chelsea couldn’t figure out which was worse: that he was asking her to betray Sara and the others by breaking more laws than she could immediately name…or that she was actually considering doing it.
    What was wrong with her? She had no proof he was who he said. In fact, logic said he was a criminal and a liar.
    “If you were really an undercover agent working for the U.S. government,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “then I can’t imagine you’d come here and tell me that to my face.” She looked up at him, baffled, wanting to believe him, but not sure she dared. “You haven’t even sworn me to secrecy or anything.”
    The corners of his mouth twitched, the almost-dimple making it seem as though there was a younger, happier man trapped inside his unemotional shell. “Go ahead and tell your friends about this,” he said, daring her. “You don’t believe me and you’re standing here. What do you think they’ll do?”
    “Put me on the head-shrink express,” she said. “Damn it.” He was right. She couldn’t tell. Not unless she had proof, and there was only one way to get that proof. She tilted her head, shot him a look from beneath her lashes, and felt her heart begin to pound with fear, with excitement. “Tomorrow night, you said?”
    His look was long and slow, until finally he nodded. “Tomorrow. Make sure the place is going to be clear.”
    “I can do that.”
    “Yes, but will you?” It was a direct challenge.
    She met his eyes, and nodded, unspeaking.
    “Good.” He moved, but instead of moving away from her, as she might have expected once he’d gotten his way, he moved in, closing the gap between them. “You wanted to know why you.” It wasn’t a question.
    Her blood sped in her veins, and prickles of awareness shimmered to life. “Yes.” The word was barely a breath, more an invitation than a question as the attraction that she’d felt earlier in the day, when their eyes had connected through a pane of tempered and meshed glass, sprang to life full-blown, even stronger now, and with no glass separating them.
    “Yeah,” he said, as though she’d answered him far more fully than she’d intended to. “That’s why.”
    Then he leaned in and kissed her, and although she’d seen it coming, knew what he’d intended, she didn’t move away, didn’t stop him cold. Instead, she uncrossed her arms and flattened her palms on his chest, not to push him away, but to draw him close, her fingers