be.
He told himself it was simply the amazing sex they had that kept him tracking her down, chasing her like a fox after a rabbit. Deep in his gut, though, he knew it was more. The sexy assassin meant far more to him than a good fuck. Her ability to take a human life without a moment’s regret matched his own. However, with Moira, there was no agenda, no mission, no loyalty to anyone or anything. He envied her that. His own mission was so ingrained in the cells of his body, he couldn’t imagine a life without such passion.
Possessing Moira had become as much his passion as his homeland’s nationalism. A part of him believed he could dissect her and when he did, he’d finally have the antidote to emotion. Only then, when he no longer felt anything for anyone, would he find the guts to pull the trigger on his friends as well as his enemies.
Back in the van, Peter pawed through a grocery sack and pulled out a Snickers candy bar. He’d give it to the Pennington girl when he got back to the room he’d rented. Contrary to what Moira thought, he was not a monster like the Israelis. The girl was warm and dry, and Tory had given her a doll she’d picked up at a nearby convenience store.
I even left a nightlight on for her so she wouldn’t be afraid of the dark.
Chapter Eight
Arlington
Julia tossed her car keys on the kitchen counter and shrugged out of her jacket. Conrad sat at the table with a laptop, a cup of coffee and a spread of papers. He didn’t glance up from the screen when he spoke. “Explain.”
She didn’t want to explain and even if she had, his demanding tone raised her hackles. “Business meeting.”
He pecked at the keyboard. “Since when does my London operative work a case inside the States with you?”
So he knew. She hadn’t fooled him at all. Now she had to find a way out of this confrontation without making things worse for Zara.
Tired and in need of a serious jolt of caffeine, all Julia could think about was how nice it would be to have a hot shower and an understanding husband. Noting the set of Con’s jaw, she knew the last item on her wish list was a pipedream. As long as she was this deep in shit, she might as well ignore his question. “Zara’s in the hospital. She’s dehydrated and her electrolytes are messed up. The doctor’s running some blood tests, but he suspects she has a serious case of influenza.”
“What case are you working, Jules?”
She wasn’t sure if it was his tone or the fact he wouldn’t look at her that made anger bite low in her stomach. “Don’t you care Zara’s sick? That she’s in the hospital?”
His gaze left the computer screen and crawled up her body to her face. “Of course I care about Zara. I also care about my wife. You’re both walking a dangerous high wire right now, and maybe neither of you realized it, but if you get caught, I’m the asshole who’s going to meet the firing squad. I have a right to know what you’re involved in.”
She hated it when he was right. “Zara is your espionage operative, but what I do on my off hours has no reflection on you as Director of Operations.”
“Wrong.” He rose from the chair and tamped his finger on the table. “Everything you do reflects on me, like it or not. A caveat of being married, Mrs. Flynn.”
Julia’s heart plunged. The few times Con had referred to their marriage over the last six months, he’d always made it sound constraining, damning almost. He was still annoyed she hadn’t taken his name, as evidenced by the way he constantly used the term Mrs. Flynn like a challenge.
Julia understood the political workings of Washington as well as anyone. Through the years as a CIA analyst and then an operative, she’d broken rules and challenged authority on a regular basis. Always, though, with the complete understanding that her butt, and only hers, was on the line. Marriage to Conrad changed that. Now if she went outside the borders of her job, it would reflect badly on
He told himself it was simply the amazing sex they had that kept him tracking her down, chasing her like a fox after a rabbit. Deep in his gut, though, he knew it was more. The sexy assassin meant far more to him than a good fuck. Her ability to take a human life without a moment’s regret matched his own. However, with Moira, there was no agenda, no mission, no loyalty to anyone or anything. He envied her that. His own mission was so ingrained in the cells of his body, he couldn’t imagine a life without such passion.
Possessing Moira had become as much his passion as his homeland’s nationalism. A part of him believed he could dissect her and when he did, he’d finally have the antidote to emotion. Only then, when he no longer felt anything for anyone, would he find the guts to pull the trigger on his friends as well as his enemies.
Back in the van, Peter pawed through a grocery sack and pulled out a Snickers candy bar. He’d give it to the Pennington girl when he got back to the room he’d rented. Contrary to what Moira thought, he was not a monster like the Israelis. The girl was warm and dry, and Tory had given her a doll she’d picked up at a nearby convenience store.
I even left a nightlight on for her so she wouldn’t be afraid of the dark.
Chapter Eight
Arlington
Julia tossed her car keys on the kitchen counter and shrugged out of her jacket. Conrad sat at the table with a laptop, a cup of coffee and a spread of papers. He didn’t glance up from the screen when he spoke. “Explain.”
She didn’t want to explain and even if she had, his demanding tone raised her hackles. “Business meeting.”
He pecked at the keyboard. “Since when does my London operative work a case inside the States with you?”
So he knew. She hadn’t fooled him at all. Now she had to find a way out of this confrontation without making things worse for Zara.
Tired and in need of a serious jolt of caffeine, all Julia could think about was how nice it would be to have a hot shower and an understanding husband. Noting the set of Con’s jaw, she knew the last item on her wish list was a pipedream. As long as she was this deep in shit, she might as well ignore his question. “Zara’s in the hospital. She’s dehydrated and her electrolytes are messed up. The doctor’s running some blood tests, but he suspects she has a serious case of influenza.”
“What case are you working, Jules?”
She wasn’t sure if it was his tone or the fact he wouldn’t look at her that made anger bite low in her stomach. “Don’t you care Zara’s sick? That she’s in the hospital?”
His gaze left the computer screen and crawled up her body to her face. “Of course I care about Zara. I also care about my wife. You’re both walking a dangerous high wire right now, and maybe neither of you realized it, but if you get caught, I’m the asshole who’s going to meet the firing squad. I have a right to know what you’re involved in.”
She hated it when he was right. “Zara is your espionage operative, but what I do on my off hours has no reflection on you as Director of Operations.”
“Wrong.” He rose from the chair and tamped his finger on the table. “Everything you do reflects on me, like it or not. A caveat of being married, Mrs. Flynn.”
Julia’s heart plunged. The few times Con had referred to their marriage over the last six months, he’d always made it sound constraining, damning almost. He was still annoyed she hadn’t taken his name, as evidenced by the way he constantly used the term Mrs. Flynn like a challenge.
Julia understood the political workings of Washington as well as anyone. Through the years as a CIA analyst and then an operative, she’d broken rules and challenged authority on a regular basis. Always, though, with the complete understanding that her butt, and only hers, was on the line. Marriage to Conrad changed that. Now if she went outside the borders of her job, it would reflect badly on
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