Ignoring her, he led the way down a stark, unadorned corridor.The business end of the vessel was exactly as she had suspected: functional and fortified.He opened a door to a large, high-tech office where monitors glowed and the air hummed with intent.“May I?”she asked, tipping her chin toward the screens.
“Go ahead.”
She moved past him.Too close.His scent curled around her, warm and clean, hitting her senses like a punch.
“Since you’re here, you might as well make yourself comfortable.”
Every tiny hair on the back of her neck stood on end as he came to stand behind the chair she chose.Arms folded, remote, he was a living testament to everything she’d lost.
“Okay?”he demanded brusquely when she shivered involuntarily.
“I’m fine.”She made the mistake of meeting his gaze.He read her instantly.His stony expression was the best reminder yet not to drift into sentiment.Whatever they’d shared was ash.Straightening her spine, she plunged in.“If the situation I’ve uncovered weren’t dire, I wouldn’t bother you with it.”
“You’d have stayed dead?”
The scorn in his words cut deep.
Worse, they were true.
CHAPTERFIVE
Muted lighting cast a low amber haze over his study.Monitors added to the glow, their light framing Sable in a misleading halo.She’d never been an angel.After seven years of silence, who would trust her now?
Then she did that thing.
The curve of her mouth.The barest flick of her tongue across her lower lip.It shouldn’t affect him, yet it did.He’d have to be carved from stone not to react to a woman he’d taken to battle and bed.
He had to remind himself that she was a stranger to him now.As such, she would be judged on merit, not memory.
Time had been kind to Sable, at least in looks.Her inner radiance remained.Was the quicksilver mind intact?His best guess was yes.Her fierce spirit shone in her eyes.“Don’t make me regret this meeting.”
“You won’t,” she promised, gaze steady.
“Coffee?”
“Please.”
He filled two mugs.Sable was careful not to brush his hand as she took hers.Good.Being close enough to catch her scent was dangerous.
Her manner was unmarked by the years that had gouged wounds in him.Trust was something he rarely gave, and he’d made an exception for Sable.One he had lived to regret.“Are you using me?”he asked as they sipped.
“In some ways, yes,” she admitted, nursing her mug.“I didn’t know what else to do—whom else to turn to.”
“You’re asking me to risk my team on the word of someone I no longer trust.”
“You can trust me,” she protested.
“Can I?Where did you go?Why did you leave?Why couldn’t you speak to me first?”He cut her off as she began to answer.“Spare me excuses.Just tell me what you need.”
She took a flash drive from her pocket.“This explains most things.”
Once again, she was careful not to touch him as she handed it over.“Well?”she pressed.“Don’t you want to review it?”
“I’ll take a look.”
The images on screen confirmed the atrocities Sable had hinted at.He could no longer remain impartial.Humanity, or the mockery of it, always found new ways to degrade itself.
“Sick, yes?”she said, briefly turning to face him.
