Or maybe he does.
“We should go before they come back.” His voice sounded flat. Very un-Coop like.
She hated the sound of it. Hated herself even more for being the cause.
Mac stood, keeping her eyes peeled on their surroundings. “Trevor will keep them running. At least for a little while.” She took a deep breath. “Probably a good thing we’re going to my room, anyway.”
“Why is that?” Coop pushed himself to his feet.
“There are things there you need to see.”
With his head on a swivel, he nodded. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Keeping their guns in hand, the two covered the remaining distance to their respective cars. The entire time Mac drove, she checked all three mirrors, keeping an eye out for a black SUV.
At one point on the drive, traffic started to get thick, and for not even a full second, Mac thought about trying to lose Coop. Then she remembered what he’d said about finding her again and knew, without a doubt, he would.
A loud growl of frustration filled the car’s interior as she squeezed the steering wheel to the point she thought it might bend. Less than five minutes of him being here and he’d already nearly died.
Because of me.
She’d warned him. Told him it was dangerous, but had the infuriating man listened? Of course not. Why the hell hadn’t he stayed home?
Did you really expect him to?
Mac wanted to say yes, but part of her had always known he’d come after her. She’d hoped he wouldn’t. Prayed he’d stay away, for his sake. She should’ve known better.
He was here, and she had no choice but to come clean.
* * *
Filled with dread, Coop waited while Mac opened the door to her hotel room. After all the wondering and worrying, he was finally going to learn what kind of clusterfuck she’d gotten herself into.
Letting the door shut behind him, he stood between it and Mac. Tried to convince himself it was to keep her safe, not prevent her from trying to run.
Jesus, he hated thinking like that.
Mac was the most loyal woman he’d ever known. Or so he’d always thought. Now, after learning what she’d been keeping from him, Coop didn’t know what to think.
She was the woman who’d lay down her own life for any one of her teammates. Yet she was also the woman who’d lied to him the entire time he’d known her. About everything.
Sick to his soul, Coop crossed his arms at his chest and stood feet shoulder-width apart. His eyes zeroed in on hers.
“Start talking.”
Mac opened her mouth—to lie or tell the truth, he didn’t know. And wasn’t that a fucking kick to the balls? Unfortunately, he didn’t get the chance to find out because in the same moment, someone started pounding on her door.
He drew his weapon as he spun around, putting a hand up to keep Mac behind him and signaling for her to be silent. At the same time, she bent at the waist, reaching under that damn dress for her own gun.
The knocking came again, followed by Trevor’s frustrated voice. “It’s me. Open up.”
Coop exhaled a breath of relief and shoved his gun back into his waistband. He opened the door.
“Did you get the shooter?” Mac asked as Trevor rushed into the room.
Regret filled the man’s dark eyes. “Lost him. Got a partial, but the plate was covered in dirt.”
“Intentional, I’m sure,” Coop mumbled as he shut the door.
