Then Director Russell dropped a bomb that left Dagan reeling. After he said his good-byes, Dagan sat in silence, his mouth hanging open.
“What?” Ozzie demanded. “Are you going back to work for the CIA?”
Dagan shook his head. “No, I…I don’t know. I…” He couldn’t go on. How could Chelsea have done that? How could she have… “I have to go.” He pushed up from the sofa, looking around, his mind racing.
Becky’s eyebrows slammed together. “Go? Where?”
“To DC. To Langley. I need to talk to Chelsea.”
“But Chelsea isn’tinDC or Langley.”
He scowled at her. “Then where is she?”
Becky shot him a considering look. “First tell me what happened between you two in England.”
Dagan crossed his arms over his chest and clamped his mouth shut, hoping his fiery stare was enough to convince her the subject was strictly off-limits. He should have known better. Becky was not easily intimidated. She just stared right back until he was forced to ask, “Why do you assume something happened between us?”
“Because you’ve been walking around here wearing a murderous expression for the last three days. And anytime one of us brings up Chelsea’s name, you flinch.” She pointed at him. “See? You just did it again. So? What happened?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“It is if you want me to tell you where she is. Because I happen to like Chelsea. And I’m not sending you after her until I’m convinced you’re going to be nice.”
“I’m always nice.”
“Bullshit.” Well, she had him there. “When I talked to Chelsea—”
He stood up straighter. “You talked to Chelsea? When?”
“The day after she left.”
“What did she say?”
Becky narrowed her eyes, regarding him for what felt like an eternity. He was so tempted to shake her and demand she answer that he had to stuff his hands in his front pockets. Someone started a buzz saw between his ears. Eventually she answered. “It wasn’t so much what she said. It was more her tone.”
“And what was her tone?”
“Sad.”
The word was a bull’s-eye arrow to his soul, piercing deep.
“So what did you do to her?” Becky asked.
“Why do you assumeIdid something toher?”
“Because you’re a man. Which means you’re inherently egotistical and pigheaded and—”
“Uh…” Ozzie raised his hand. “In the name of all good men everywhere, I object to that generalization.”
Becky pulled a Dum Dum lollipop from the front pocket of her bib overalls—she’d been working down in the shop, which meant she was speckled in grease, paint, and a few metal shavings. Shoving the sucker in her mouth, she frowned around the stick at Ozzie. “Fine. Point taken.” Then she turned to Dagan. “Are you sayingshewas the one to do something toyou?”
“You’re damn right!” Was he shouting?Why?Oh, right. Because every cell in his body urged him out the door and on his way to find Chelsea. And Becky—nosy, irritating,infuriatingwoman that she was—was holding Chelsea’s whereabouts hostage.
“So what did she do?” Becky raised a brow.
He struggled with himself for about five seconds before the whole sorry story poured out of him. He generally wasn’t the kind of man to over-share, liked to consider himself more of the strong, silent type. But he’d been wrestling with what had happened for days, fighting all his contradictory feelings, and, God, it felt good totellsomeone. To get it all out.
By the time he was finished, he should have felt drained and beaten. Instead, he was energized and more determined than ever to—
