Dean hoped the LC hadn’t heard his sigh of relief. “Then Annie is still in danger if he’s out there.”
“She might have been, but in a spark of divine intervention, Jean Paul was hit by a car a couple blocks from the hospital. A tourist got confused, turned onto the wrong side of the road, and plowed into him as he crossed the street. The officer said the woman was beside herself with guilt until they told her he was wanted for murder.”
In other words she’d done them a favor.
“Oh,” Dean said. What else could he say? “That’s great.”
Of course it was. He and Annie could go their own ways. That was what he wanted, wasn’t it?
“So you see, she’s safe and doesn’t need a protector anymore. You can cut her loose with a clear conscience.” When Dean didn’t respond, he added, “And if it makes it any easier, that’s an order.”
It didn’t. Maybe it should, but it didn’t.
“Maybe if we get really lucky,” Scott continued, “Jean Paul’s phone was destroyed in the accident and the text with your picture never arrived. Give me the number, and I’ll have Kate check it out.”
Dean repeated the number he’d memorized. He’d pull out the SIM cards, destroy the phones, and toss everything in different trash bins before going back to the room to say... what? Good-bye? Nice knowing you?
Fuck.
“Where are you going?” the LC asked.
“I have someone in Glasgow who can get me a new ID.” They all had contacts. People who didn’t ask questions and didn’t care what his name was as long as he could pay. “Then fuck if I know. But Russian subs in the North Sea is a dead end.”
“I’m beginning to agree with you. Hang tight when you get to Glasgow, and we’ll figure something out.”
“You better figureallof this out soon, Ace,” Dean said, with a rare use of his code name. “I’m not going to live a secret life forever.”
Dean could hear the surprise in the LC’s voice. “Damn, this girl really got to you, didn’t she?”
She did. But there wasn’t a damned thing Dean could do about it. Annie was the first woman he’d ever wanted a relationship with, but he was going to have to let her go.
•••
Annie was lounging on the bed in her comfy robe and slippers when “Dan” came back into the room. Her hair was still damp, and her skin had been rubbed with almost the entire bottle of lotion.
Right away, she could tell that something was wrong. He hadn’t brought her back that drink he’d promised, and his expression was grim—even for him. He’d stopped at the end of the short hall that led from the door and stood there just staring at her.
“Who died?” she said half jestingly, getting up from the edge of the bed where she’d been sitting.
“Jean Paul.”
Her eyes widened with shock. A moment later the relief came. “What? How? That’s wonderful. I probably shouldn’t say that, but after what he did to Julien and Claude, I’m not going to pretend otherwise.” She stopped, tilting her head to look at him. “Why aren’t you happier?” Suddenly an explanation occurred to her and she blanched. “Oh God, did they find them already?”
Were there police swirling all over the beach trying to find out who had killed the two men and then tried to dispose of them in the ocean?
He shook his head. “No, no, it’s nothing like that.” He explained what had happened to Jean Paul and how Dan’s contact had cleared everything up with the police.
“This must be a pretty powerful contact.”
He shrugged, not taking the bait. “I think the police were already figuring it out on their own. They’ll want to talk to you, but you are in the clear. You are safe.”
He held her gaze as if trying to tell her something. She drew in a breath that singed her lungs. She knew what this was about. “You’re leaving,” she said softly.
He nodded.
She shouldn’t be surprised. She’d known this was coming. He’d been clear with her from the beginning that he was going to leave, but there was still a small part of her that thought—hoped—it wouldn’t come to this. That maybe he would change his mind. That maybe this didn’t have to be the end.
All she could do was stare at him, silently begging him not to do this.
