Page 46 of Rafe’s Future

“You say that as if you’re speaking from experience.”

She and Rafe shared a look before she released a soft chuckle. “Yeah, well . . . you don’t play the game as long as I have without picking up a few souvenirs along the way.”

“Here.” Rafe pulled out the chair between his and his daughter’s. “Would you like some coffee?”

“God, yes.” Lena took the offered seat. As he walked away, she turned her attention back to Alice. “I’ve heard a lot of wonderful things about you, both personal and professional.”

“Likewise.” Alice grinned. “Colt said you were a solid agent and a . . .” She took a moment to recall. “A ‘tough but fair boss’ is how he put it.” Her intelligent gaze slid to the man in the kitchen before bringing it back to Lena’s. “My father talks very highly of you, as well.”

“Your father is one of the best operatives I’ve had the pleasure of working with.” A true statement. “I’m just sorry you were caught in the crossfire of our past.”

“Like I told him”—she jutted her chin toward Rafe—“what happened wasn’t your fault.”

“That’s kind of you to say, but⁠—”

“But nothing.” Alice’s expression turned serious. “If Alexei Kozlova is behind this, it’s on him. Not you.”

“Rafe read you in.”

“He did.” The young woman nodded.

“Then you probably also know I’m the one who led the op to stop him thirty years ago.”

“And he got away.” Alice shrugged. “It happens.”

Not to me, it doesn’t.

Just that once, and she hadn’t lost another target since. But once was enough, as was evident of the injured computer expert sitting before her now.

“So.” Lena did an about-face on the subject. “Please tell me you didn’t drive yourself here.”

It had been what, a few days since she’d taken a bullet to the gut?

The Tac-Ops analyst sent her a knowing stare. Thankfully, Alice went along with the sudden switch.

“Uh . . . no.” She rolled her eyes. “My husband probably would have tied me to the bed if I tried. And not in a fun way.”

“I heard that.” Rafe reappeared with a fresh cup of steaming coffee.

“Well, that’s good since I didn’t whisper,” his daughter teased.

Lena’s snort sent a sharp reminder of the tenderness in her throat. “Thanks.” She took the ceramic mug from Rafe’s hand.

The tip of her pinky brushed against his in the process. He eyed her closely, as if trying to reach depths previously unseen.

She could thank her carefully constructed walls for that. Emotional barriers put in place years ago. Walls that protected her from things like pesky feelings and the sort.

Feelings made a person vulnerable. Distracted. And distracted CIA officers were a liability in the field. Losing focus put them and others at risk, so no. No feelings aloud.

But on those rare occasions when she was around Rafe, Lena couldn’t help but to feel. Excitement. Desire. Fear. Whenever the sexy Brit was near, she felt all those things and more. Even now—with the man’s daughter sitting two feet away.

“Slade is in the other room,” Rafe explained. “He had a call he needed to take.”

“Ah.” Lena nodded, taking a cautious sip of the roasted beverage.

“Two sugars and a splash of cream.”

She met his gaze with a smile. “You remember.”