She shakes her head, leaning closer to the screen. The click of typing carries through the earbud, and then a link pops up in the chat window. “Install that app. Then use it to drop the photos into my secure cloud storage.”
“ZEO?” I ask when the program launches.
“Zephyr’s Eyes Only.” She beams, pride clear in her expression. “Had to name itsomething, and ‘Secure File Transfer and Chat’ wasn’t anywhere near as fun.”
“S-F-T-C? Sounds like a bank. You coded this?”
“Yep. The first ‘non-family’ gig I took on for Austin, the client kept sending me unencrypted emails.Hugesecurity risk. So now, all communication goes through this app. Next time you call me, you’ll use ZEO. When I need to talk to you, same deal.”
The interface is simple, but before it lets me in, I have to give it my fingerprintanda facial scan, then enter a ten-digit passcode. “I would have loved something like this when I was in the field.”
“Well, you have it now. Drop me the photos, and I’ll get to work. Expect to hear from me in an hour or two at most.” She lifts the mug to her lips, takes a swig of whatever she’s drinking, and offers me a mock toast. “And when I call back, you can tell me why these guys are following you and what you’re going to do about it.”
The screen goes dark before I can reply. I don’t want to trust her. Hell, I don’twantto trust anyone. But if she’s working for Austin Pritchard—former head of the Joint Special Operations Command and Dani’s adoptive brother—she’s been vetted to hell and back. And without the CIA behind me, I need all the help I can get.
* * *
The minutes tick by,and though I have no right to be impatient—it’s almost midnight in Boston—I can’t sit still. So I pace, despite the pain shooting from my ankle all the way up my thigh.
A soft knock stops me in my tracks for all of three seconds, then I race for the door. I curse my lack of fine motor control as my fingers slip off the deadbolt.
Domina. Standing right in front of me. Gone are the black slacks, the red blouse that exposed the gentle swell of her breasts, and her makeup. She’s barefoot, a pair of yoga pants clinging to her hips, and a peach tank sloping off one shoulder. She won’t look at me, her gaze pinned to the floor, but exhaustion shadows her eyes.
“Have you been crying?” I start to reach for her, but when she flinches, I drop my hand. Until she lifts her gaze to mine, and I have my answer.
“Come here, baby.” Pulling her into my arms, I kick the door shut.
Don’t fuck this up. Whatever it is.
She doesn’t break. Doesn’t melt against me like I wish she would. But she lets me hold her for a full minute before pulling away. “Can we talk?” she asks softly.
Even if she only came over to tell me off, I’ll let her. I’ll take anything she throws at me. As long as it gets me a few more minutes with her.
Motioning toward the sofa, I pause only long enough to set the locks before joining her, sitting close enough, I can feel the heat of her next to me. She clutches one of my throw pillows like a shield but doesn’t try to scoot away.
A dozen questions race through my mind. Did something happen? Why is she here? Did she lock her door? Does she have her phone? But before I can ask any of them, she clears her throat.
“I was wrong to walk out on you like that. Again.” The sorrow in her voice crushes me. I pushed her away—on purpose—to hide how much I want to be more than her temporary protector, and she’s blaming herself?
“No.” I reach for her hand, twining our fingers. “I was the asshole. Getting mad at you for thinking it was just lunch? That was a dick move. I didn’t ask you out. I practically dragged you there so I could make sure we weren’t being followed.”
Domina stares at me, utterly silent, her lower lip wobbling slightly.
Trev’s words haunt me.“If you want her to trust you, Leo…be honest with her.”
I force a deep breath, praying what I’m about to say won’t make her run away for a third time. “I wanted it to be a date, Domina. Hell, I wanta lotof dates with you. But only if you want that too.”
Scooting closer, I bring our joined hands to my heart. “If we could start over, I’d introduce myself at the mailbox. Or when we passed in the hall. Flirt a little. Then after a week or so, I’d ask you out for coffee. Then lunch. Then dinner. I’d take it slow. Really get to know you before I kissed you for the first time.”
A flush darkens her cheeks. “I would have said no.”
“What?” My head throbs, and I drop her hand. Did I force myself on her at her office? Shame has me scooting halfway across the couch. “Shit. I—”
“To coffee,” she says quickly. “The dates. Even the flirting.”
She’s about to say she doesn’t want anything to do with me. This night can’t get much worse. I push to my feet, bracing my hand on the wall for a split second when my ankle threatens to buckle. Limping into the kitchen, I reach for the coffee pot—again. But Domina follows.
“Why did you come over?” I ask. My hands aren’t steady, and my mug rattles when I set it down. I don’t offer her a cup. Not if she’s just going to flee again.
