“This is a mistake. Stay on the farm and go to the community college,” her dad said, dirt on his overalls and his gloves hanging out of one pocket. Emotion was stamped hard on his square face. “It’s a good living. A safe one.”
Her chest ached, and her eyes pricked. She’d miss him. But he’d been on her since her arrest, and she needed freedom. People and places instead of land and cows and more land. She couldn’t go on with just the two of them and a bunch of old farmhands. They needed distance from each other, at least for a while. “There’s a world out there, Daddy. I want to see it,” she whispered. Why couldn’t he understand?
“Then find a way without a computer,” he growled. “You’ll just get into more trouble, and I can’t help you with that. Please.”
Life without a computer? She’d rather lose her arms. “I can’t.” Her skin chilled, and her eyes ached now. “Please understand.”
“No,” he snapped, looking big and strong on the porch. “If you leave, don’t come back.”
The office door opened, and Brigid jerked back to the present.
Nari retook her seat on the opposite side of the desk. “So. Before you go see your father, you and Raider have to become lovers. Well, at least seem like it. Are you ready to start practicing?”
Chapter Eight
“I thought this would be better without an audience,” Raider said, pressing his hand to the small of Brigid’s back as they entered the local sports bar. She jumped and quickly calmed. He sighed and steered her toward a booth in the back, waiting until she’d settled herself across from him. Her face was flushed a pretty pink, making her green eyes stand out even more than usual. “Are you averse to being touched?” Did she have trauma in her past? His chest filled. Had somebody hurt her?
“No.” Her voice was breathy. “It’s just you.”
Ego hit him first, followed by a strong dose of masculine pride. Yeah, he was an ass sometimes. “Let’s start there. What is it about me?” He wasn’t fishing for compliments. The problem couldn’t be tackled until he understood it.
“You don’t make sense to me.” She pushed curly red hair away from her oval-shaped face. “Like a code missing a line or two.”
What was wrong with him that his body flared wide awake and ready to play when she talked computer nerd? “Okay. That’s easy to fix. Ask me anything, and I’ll answer it.” As a promise, it was risky, but not nearly as risky as their failing in the field. If she had to really know him to lose her skittishness, he’d give her everything he could. Except the promise that he’d leave her father alone. He’d do his job there. Plus, she’d been honest with him since he’d become her handler, and he could easily do the same. She deserved it.
“All right.” She plucked at her paper napkin. “Favorite color?”
The green of her eyes at the moment. “Blue,” he murmured.
“Favorite movie?”
“Rambo.” He smiled. “AndChristmas Vacation.”
She returned the smile, visibly relaxing her shoulders. “First love?”
He sat back, memories returning. “Latesha Jones, tenth grade, volleyball player. Broke my heart when she dumped me for a guy named Bert.”
“Bert?” Brigid’s eyes lit up with humor.
“Bartholomew Jordan the Fourth,” Raider confirmed. “Hunter wanted to go beat him up, but I didn’t see the reason. I couldn’t blame her. He had a hell of a lot more to offer.” Like car rides and fancy dinners. All he’d had was an attitude, and potential that was iffy at best right then.
“She chose wrong,” Brigid said softly. “Where is she today?”
He shrugged. “No clue.” In fact, he hadn’t thought about her in years. “Your first love?”
“Bad boy who liked to shoplift,” she admitted. “Never had good taste in men, but that’s the point here, right? You’re going to pretend to be a criminal.” Her light eyebrows slanted down as she looked him over. “Even with the leather jacket, I don’t see it. My dad will know you’re a Fed. Or at least not a bad guy.”
“I can become almost anybody,” he admitted, adding a Scottish accent. “It’s training plus a decent gift. Probably from a crappy childhood.” This time he threw in a Japanese accent that felt as right as his Southern one. “Any other questions?”
“Favorite sexual position,” she threw out, challenge lifting her chin.
Damn, she was cute. If she thought to embarrass him, she’d read him wrong. “Helm of the Bobsled,” he drawled. “Behind you, over a table, my fist in your hair. Right where I’d want you.” He met her gaze, more than a little amused when that pink flush turned a lovely rose.
“Aren’t you unflappable?” she forced out.
Yeah. That was him. He’d learned the skill at way too young an age. Yet his jeans had just become uncomfortably tight. “What about you? Slow and soft or fast and hard?”
She tilted her head, and her tongue flicked out to wet her lips in a nervous action.
