Now, she sat in the near dark, reclined in the passenger’s seat with Scott next to her behind the wheel of an old-but-clean gray Camry Dan had left at the apartment for them. Even bundled up in a parka, scarf, and fleece beanie that hid her hair, she shivered.
“Aren’t you cold?” she asked, taking a sip of hot coffee from the travel mug Tara had given her, and savoring the short-lived boost of heat.
“Nah.” Scott didn’t take his eyes off the massive red-brick colonial sitting on maybe an acre in McLean. Duncan had parked in the driveway and gone inside a couple hours earlier. They’d followed his white BMW to the upscale neighborhood when he left Aggressor at six p.m.
Her boss’s choice to live in one of the wealthiest zip codes in northern Virginia didn’t surprise her, but his proximity to the CIA’s Langley Headquarters did.
“How much do you think that place would go for?” Scott asked, shaking his head. “It’s got to be at least five thousand square feet, more if the basement’s finished.”
“Probably several million,” she said.
He shook his head. “Who needs that much house?”
She couldn’t imagine. Her apartment was probably smaller than the garage.
Scott had parked as far as possible from the nearest streetlight, and she could barely see his frown under the pale wash of the setting moon as he glanced at her. He turned and rummaged in the back seat, producing a small first aid kit. “I knew Dan would have one,” Scott muttered. Inside he found a Mylar blanket. “Wrap this around yourself under your jacket,” he said, unfolding the crinkly silver fabric. “It’s too shiny to wear over your shoulders.”
Duncan’s street was lined with empty cars—apparently even wealthy folks with three-car garages had too little space, or too many vehicles, to park all their cars inside—which provided great camouflage for her and Scott, but in a neighborhood like this, people wouldn’t hesitate to call the police if they noticed anything suspicious.
She opened her parka and wrapped the ridiculous blanket around her middle, and then zipped her jacket to cover it.
“Better?” Scott asked, taking her gloved hand in his.
His touch, even through multiple layers of fabric, warmed her more than the blanket. “Yes, thanks.”
Conversation had been sparse between them all evening, and she had no idea why. Okay, admittedly, awesome sex when the future was so uncertain, and without the ability to sneak out the morning after—not that she’d wanted to—could make things awkward. But he’d seemed fine until their afternoon breakfast. Something in his demeanor had changed while they were discussing hackers. He’d gone from openly admiring to emotionally shut down in a matter of minutes.
Was he one of those guys who didn’t like it when a woman knew more about something than he did? She had seen firsthand how vicious a man could be when his masculinity was threatened, but she hadn’t pegged him as the type. Still, how well did she really know him?
“I’d like to stay until at least thirty minutes after all the lights in the house go out,” he said. “Will you be okay that long?” Whatever had changed, he still seemed to care about her.
“Yeah. The blanket is helping.” She watched out the window, counting her breaths until she worked up the nerve to say, “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Shoot.” His gaze roved the neighborhood.
“How did you get into the Marines with your conviction? Was your juvenile record sealed?”
He released her hand and shifted in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “Juvenile records are generally not public, but law enforcement and the military still have access. Lucky for me, the Marines were desperate for warm bodies to go to Iraq. I had earned my GED in juvie, and they decided, given the circumstances of my crime, my dad’s history of abuse and such,” he waved a hand in the dark, “that I was an acceptable risk. Worthy enough to fight and die, at least. During the troop surge in 2007, they let in far worse than me. Maybe not in huge numbers, but most people have no idea.”
“You say that like you’re one of the bad guys.”
He shrugged.
She brought her knees to her chest and hugged herself, wishing she could think of something to say that would change his mind, and cringing at the harsh crinkling sound made by the blanket. “But you wanted to enlist?”
“Hell, yeah. I wanted to get as far away from Montana as possible, get a fresh start.” He gripped the steering wheel, twisting with gloved hands. “I had a lot to prove. To myself. To the world…” His self-deprecating laugh ushered in that preternatural stillness that seemed to be his native state. “What’s more badass than the Marines when you’re an eighteen-year-old boy, right? No matter how small you are, nobody questions your toughness if you’re one of the few, the proud. At least, that’s what I thought then. I guess I mostly still do.”
She regretted calling him cute now. He’d clearly been teased—maybe even bullied, probably by his dad too—for his size. If she’d met him when he was eighteen, would she have been drawn to him the way she was now? They were both different people then. And yet, maybe not.
“Did you like it?” she prompted, hoping to keep him talking.
“I fucking loved it.” Still staring through the windshield, he said, “I loved every minute of it. ‘Embrace the suck,’ is one of the Corps’ mantras. But everything in my lifebeforethe Marines was ‘the suck.’ Prison—shitty as it was—was a step up from home. The Corps? That was the good life. That was my family.”
Her throat tightened. They had so much in common, but until her dad was killed, Valerie’s life had been easy. If one ignored that Papá had sucked her into his underground world, he’d been a good father. Kind, patient, caring, playful, stern without being too strict. And he’d loved Dad to distraction. Valerie knew what a loving relationship and a happy home were like.
Scott had never had it easy. He’d been an innocent boy raised in a violent home, driven to make a terrible choice. And he’d paid for that choice in so many ways.Valeriewas the one who’d broken the law and never paid for it. Not through the legal system. Losing her dads and the years that followed had been their own form of punishment, but she’d had food on the table, a safe place to live, and no jail time, no record. Was karma finally catching up with her now?
Except it had given her Scott, and he was a far better man than she deserved, even if he didn’t see it.
