He squeezed the back of his neck and scanned the tables and bookshelves nearby. He was a hands-on kind of guy, and while he didn’t have any trouble sitting surveillance, he also liked to know that he added value. In the Marines, there had never been a doubt. He knew how to take down an enemy standing directly in front of him, or one a thousand yards away. But this whole underground battle taking place over transatlantic cables was something he didn’t comprehend and didn’t have a clue how to fight. He was as useful as a fifth leg on a dog watching Valerie bang away at her keyboard.
Their partnership was not equal at all. In the beginning, he’d protected her, saved her. But now, without her, he had no chance at clearing his name. Not even a clue where to start.
Not to mention, she’d brought most of the money to the party.
Any goon with moderate intelligence could provide her security. She didn’t need Scott.
But he needed her.
And he wanted her.
Fuck.
“It’s okay,” she said.
He gave her a blank look, trying to backtrack to what he’d said, because for damn sure she wasn’t reading his mind or her expression would be far different.
“We’re both under a lot of stress.” She toyed absently with her ponytail and took a sip of her frothy iced coffee. “And, to be fair, Iwaspart of the black hat community before.”
Relaxing somewhat, he said, “To be fair, you were a kid.”
She gave him a humorless smile that said she appreciated his efforts but didn’t agree. “I knew the difference between right and wrong.”
“Maybe. But did you feel like you could quit? Would yourpapáhave let you?”
Her face turned pale and she stared at her keyboard, elegant hands at the ready but not moving. “No.” She shook her head. “I know he wouldn’t. My dads used to fight about it, but Papá and I never stopped.”
Setting down his book, Scott placed his palm over one of her small hands and tried to think of something to say.
“It’s our fault Dad died,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“We pissed off the wrong guy.” A tear slid down her cheek, clamping a vise around Scott’s chest. “He was a carder—a dealer in stolen credit card numbers—that Papá and I had put out of business, and he’d lost everything. His money, his family, his reputation. He broke into our house one night when Papá was gone. Dad and I were eating dinner, and the guy pulled a knife and started screaming at Dad about revenge.” Her breath came faster. “I just stood there and watched, not believing what I was seeing, my feet frozen to the ground as he—” Her face crumpled, and she covered her mouth with shaking fingers. “He stabbed him.”
Fucking hell.Scott didn’t want to make a scene, but he couldn’t sit there and watch her implode. “Hey,” he reached for her.
She slammed the lid on her laptop and jumped to her feet, her chair screeching against the tile floor and drawing several gazes. “I… Excuse me.”
“V…” But he let her go, watching her race past the bakery display and through the doorway at the far side of the café marked RESTROOMS. He’d been trying to make her feel better, to prove a point about her culpability in the crimes she’d committed under her father’s direction, but obviously he’d only added to her distress.
Perfect.
He glanced at his watch. Nine forty-two. He’d give her five minutes.
Picking up his book, he returned to surreptitious people-watching, practicing his observation skills, eavesdropping on conversations. Everyone was so ordinary, going through the motions of daily life while he and Valerie were stuck in some parallel universe where their lives had gone completely off the rails.
Nothing appeared particularly unusual about the man who joined the line at the counter, and Scott didn’t initially understand why the guy had caught his attention. He looked like half a dozen other men who’d passed through the store in the last ninety minutes. Medium height and build, Oakland A’s baseball cap, square-framed glasses, brown hair peeking out from beneath his hat, 5K race tech T in dark gray, blue jeans…
Black Nikes with a red swoosh, and a nice watch.
CHAPTER TEN
San Diego, CA
Monday, 9:45 a.m.
“VALERIE?” SCOTT’S PLEASANT BARITONE CAME from the other side of the stall door. Why was he always following her into the women’s restroom?
