Ronan turned sharply. "He what?"
"Town council. The seat Evelyn Marsh is vacating." Lila watched his face, trying to read the rapid calculations happening behind his eyes. "He said I'm respected and trusted. That my father would be proud."
"That's not a random offer."
"No. It's not." She stood and crossed to where he was standing, close enough that she could see the faint scar along his jawline. "What does it mean?"
"It means he's either trying to co-opt you or control you." Ronan's voice was low, intense. "If you're on the council, you're part of the system. You vote the way they want you to vote, sign off on the things they want signed off on. And if you don't?—"
"I become a problem."
"Exactly."
"Like my father was a problem."
Neither of them moved. Outside, a car door slammed. Someone laughed. The ordinary sounds of a town that had no idea what was happening in this room. Ronan's expression shifted— His hand came up before the rest of him caught up—instinct overriding training. His thumb found the tear on her cheek, and his fingers curved against her jaw with a gentleness that didn’t match anything else about him.
"We don't know that yet."
"But you suspect it."
"I suspect a lot of things. Suspicion isn't evidence."
"Then find the evidence." She was standing too close to him. She knew it. She didn't move. "Find out what really happened to my father. Find out who's running this operation and how deep it goes. Because I can't keep pretending everything is normal when nothing is normal, and I can't keep lying to people I care about, and I can't?—"
Her voice cracked. She hadn't meant for it to. Hadn't meant for any of this—the desperate edge, the way her hands were shaking, the tears suddenly burning at the back of her eyes.
Ronan's hand came up, cupping her face. His thumb brushed across her cheek, catching a tear that had fallen.
"Hey." His voice was rough. Gentle. "Look at me."
She looked. His eyes were gray and steady and closer than they'd ever been.
"I'm going to find out what happened. I promise you. Whatever it takes, however long it takes, I will get you answers."
"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep."
"I don't."
She believed him. That was the terrifying part. Standing in her office with his hand on her face and her heart pounding and everything she thought she knew crumbling around her, she believed him.
"This is a bad idea," she whispered.
“Worst one I’ve had in years.”
"You're investigating my town. My family's history. Everything I've ever known."
"Yeah."
"And I don't even know your real name. Your real story. Anything about who you actually are."
"Ronan Cross is my real name. I served ten years in the Army as a Ranger. I lost three men on my last deployment because of bad intelligence, and I swore I'd never let that happen again." His thumb traced the line of her cheekbone. "I like strong coffee and I hate small talk and I haven't trusted anyone in twelve years."
"But you trust me?"
"I shouldn't." His mouth curved, barely. "But yes. I trust you."
She should step back. Should put professional distance between them and focus on the mission and all the very good reasons why getting emotionally involved with a federal agent was a terrible idea.
