Even if he believed she was ready to let it go, she couldn’t get close to him to steal the drive and then ghost him like she would with a random target. Using people like that felt gross enough when shedidn’tknow them. Doing it to Jason would be extra icky. But she had people to protect. The less he knew the better.
She sighed and retrieved her work cell phone from her bag, logging into the communication tool disguised as a crossword app. As succinctly as possible, she relayed the afternoon’s events to her boss.
Gretchen recommended aborting the mission, but Emma disagreed.
Viktor had risked his life and livelihood to help them take down Renfro Warner. He’d trusted her, and ultimately, he was dead for trying to meet with her. Emma’s throat tightened, and she squeezed her eyes shut, forcing air in through her nose and out slowly through her mouth until she could focus again.
Natalie had been working overwatch for this op, but neither of them could’ve prevented a lone gunman’s attack.
Returning her attention to the phone, Emma explained that Jason might have the SD card, and recommended mobilizing Natalie. With her help, Emma could get Jason alone much sooner, giving him less chance to find the storage device if he had it. Gretchen would work the medical examiner angle in case the drive was still on Viktor’s body. She’d also find out if there’d been any chatter that would explain his assassination.
Renfro Warner—or someone working for him—might be the obvious perpetrators, but it paid to be thorough. She didn’t believe the hit was a coincidence, but she needed to know who all the players were.
Sticking with Jason meant she had a chance to find out how he fit into all of this.
Her phone vibrated with an incoming message from Gretchen.
N is a go.
Emma looked up in time to see Jason being waved past the police tape. He disappeared into the restroom for several minutes, and emerged with his legs and shins scrubbed clean.
Pausing outside the restroom, he spent several minutes on his phone, catching her gaze as he spoke, and holding up a finger to her in the universal symbol to wait. Once he was done with his calls, he strode in her direction, his strong, confident posture and restrained power making him sexier than any man had a right to be.
More than a few heads turned to follow his progress.
Her foolish stomach fluttered like a wounded bird at his approach, unaware that she’d only stuck around for Viktor’s files. Nothing more.
She responded to Gretchen and stashed her phone.
“Hey,” Jason said, his gorgeous brown eyes all earnest and full of the concern she’d wanted so badly from him on that horrible morning in college. “How are you holding up?”
If her life were normal, she could be angling to spend more time with this man because he helped dying strangers, worried about traumatized women despite their painful shared history, and probably rescued cats from trees or some shit.
They’d been incendiary once, and if she wasn’t mistaken, the mutual attraction was still there. Which meant that even if part of her still couldn’t get over the heartache from their past, she could find a way to capitalize on his interest now. Justice—and her own safety—demanded it. But to get the drive before Jason realized he had it would require a little push. One Nat was set to deliver.
Emma took a deep breath and told him the truth. “I’m a bit rattled, honestly. I hope they weren’t too hard on you.”
He adjusted his hat in an unconscious move, and surveyed the crowd of gawkers that had formed along the sidewalk. “Yeah, as a rule, I try to avoid contact with the police, but it was fine. They didn’t treat me like a suspect, even though I was with the man.”
Good. She didn’t think Switzerland was any less racist than the US, but the preponderance of witnesses to both Viktor’s death and everything happening now—including the press, and hundreds of people with cell phones—probably helped keep everyone on their best behavior. “I’m not sure what to do with myself now,” she said, hugging her arms to her chest.
He nodded. “It’s a hell of a thing to see. Not easy to handle.”
“Did you figure out how?” she asked. “When you were in the military?”
He scoffed and scratched the back of his neck, his biceps flexing impressively, stretching his maroon polo’s sleeves to the limit. “I don’t know.” His hand dropped. “Feeling the feelings instead of hiding from them is probably the healthiest thing. I think our brain sometimes paves over anything we can’t process, but eventually it’ll break through like a weed and you’ll have to deal with it.”
The brief flash of pain in his eyes gave her pause. He wasn’t just paying lip service to her question; he’d seen some shit.
She bit her lip. Her mind had already started forming that protective shell around the experience, but she had a feeling she’d pay for it later. “Would you, maybe, want to walk with me?”
He stared down at her for a second and then nodded. “Of course.”
A pretty Black woman with straightened hair rushed toward them, her press badge badge bouncing against her chest. “Entschuldigung,” she said.
“I’m sorry, but we don’t want to talk,” Emma replied in German, hoping Jason didn’t mind if she spoke for him. The last thing she wanted was to give an interview. She’d been trying to stay angled away from the small group of TV cameras and photographers since they appeared on the scene.
The woman responded to Emma with a nod and looked at Jason, a speculative gleam in her eye, probably thinking that he’d not only acted heroically, but that he’d look amazing on camera.
