Page 26 of The Specialist

“No. Not at all. We’re pretty much homebodies.”

“Then there’s nothing connecting you except living in the same building. But other people live there as well, so it’s not obvious. But you should be careful—stick to the homebody thing.”

“I will. I’ve been careful since Alex’s unusual visit. I haven’t noticed anything. No tails, nobody watching. Nothing. We swept Elite for bugs, and I did the same with my car, this place, and the gym. Nothing. I’m being cautious.”

“Still, you should tell her. She hates being lied to, and she would see an omission as the same as a lie.”

“I will.”

I rubbed my aching temples, not wanting to discuss it any further, but knowing that he was right. “Look into Ivan Jones for me.”

“I will.”

We talked a few moments more. Everyone on the island was well. I was pleased to hear it, but after I hung up, I sat forward, resting my head in my hands.

I knew I had to tell Sofia. She needed to know the truth. But how she would react troubled me. I cursed Ivan Jones and whatever had brought him into my life. I had finally broken down Sofia’s walls, and now, because of him, I might find them re-erected.

And this time, I doubted anything would bring them down again.

* * *

SOFIA

I woke up to the scent of something delicious. I smiled into my pillow, knowing Egan was in my kitchen and making us a meal to eat. I glanced at the clock, surprised to see I had slept longer than usual. I got up and had a quick shower, then headed to the kitchen.

I watched Egan for a moment, caught up in the image. He had a tea towel slung over his shoulder and another tucked into his waistband for a makeshift apron. He was busy chopping, his brow furrowed in concentration. I could smell garlic, spices, and tomato sauce. My mouth watered at the aroma and the vision of the sexy man preparing the food.

He didn’t look up, but he spoke.

“I know you are there, Sofia. I feel your eyes on me.”

I sauntered forward, standing beside him. I slipped my arm around his waist and leaned against his shoulder. “You look so sexy in my kitchen. Any kitchen, really.”

He chuckled and pressed a kiss to my head. “I am making you cutlets and pasta.”

“My favorite.”

He smiled. “I know.”

He finished his task and moved to the sink, washing his hands. “You slept well, iubirea mea?”

“I did. For too long, though.”

He shook his head. “You are tired. You are always tired by the last night. I am driving you tonight and picking you up.”

“Egan,” I began, but he shook his head, stopping my words.

“It is what is happening,” he said. “Now, sit down, and I will bring you dinner.”

I sat down with a frown. Something was off with him. He was tense, his accent thicker. That was always a clue to his frame of mind.

He brought over dinner and sat down with his own plate. “I assumed no wine.”

“No, not when I have a shift.”

“Tomorrow, then,” he said, picking up his cutlery and beginning to eat.

He was quiet most of dinner, which wasn’t unusual. Egan wasn’t much for small talk, although he usually had some questions about our time apart. How my shift was the night before? Had there been any interesting cases? Any amusing incidents? Did I eat the snack he packed me? But today, he was withdrawn, and I noticed that although he ate, it wasn’t with his usual gusto. He pushed the food around on the plate, barely finishing his meal.