Donovan slipped outside in the predawn light. Despite the absurdity of the bombing being meant for Cas, the timing continued to plague him. Could the two incidents be connected? It didn’t make sense, but neither did the coalition coming after Cas four years after their failed attempt to kill her. As far as he knew, she hadn’t done anything to upset their organization since her initial debriefing before entering into the guardian ranks.
Donovan locked the door behind him and zipped his jacket against the morning chill. After a quick glance down the quiet street, he circled the house. All quiet. Satisfied that no one had tracked them to Bruges, he started down the cobbled sidewalk. Gaining a better feel of the land wouldn’t hurt. Besides, he needed to clear his head to get Cas out of his thoughts.
Cooking dinner together had awakened dreams in him best left buried—family, future. Those dreams had died with his divorce. His fictional death added an exclamation point to his certainty that relationships would never expand beyond the loose camaraderie between him and his fellow guardians and the brief connections he shared with the men and women he helped in the course of his missions.
Donovan turned the corner, remaining in the shadows in case anyone happened by. An engine sounded, and he pressed himself against the brick building beside him. A man walking the streets this time of morning was bound to gain unwanted attention.
A car emerged from a nearby street and turned in the opposite direction. Resigned that it would be best to wait until the bakeries and coffee shops opened for the morning to continue familiarizing himself with the area, Donovan reversed direction.
Thoughts of Cas invaded his mind. No longer was she the cool, businesslike operative who did her job and then moved on to her next assignment. Sure, she still went about her work with a determination he couldn’t help but admire, but those pockets of personality and fun added to a fascinating whole. The fact that she could relax enough to teach him basic cooking skills while knowing people wanted her dead was a feat in itself.
What did Cas know about the coalition that made her such a threat? Or was it pure revenge that drove the leadership of the popular movement?
He turned the corner and approached the safe house. Lights glowed from the front window as though beckoning him forward. Had he left them on?
He reached the door and slid the key into the lock. Silently, he slipped inside. He was alone in the brightly lit entryway, so he flipped the lock and continued into the dark living room, where he turned on the light and caught a glimpse of movement. He whirled toward it. Cas, clad in her flannel pajamas, stood in the doorway, a butcher’s knife in her hand.
His heart jumped in his chest, and he threw his hands up. “It’s just me.”
Cas lowered the knife and pressed her free hand to her own chest. “You about gave me a heart attack. What are you doing up so early?”
“I couldn’t sleep. I went out to check the area.” He shrugged out of his jacket. “What are you doing up? What time is it anyway?”
“It’s a little after five.” Cas led the way into the kitchen. Milk, butter, and eggs lined the counter.
“Do you normally get up this early?”
“I couldn’t stop thinking about the timing of everything. My family and Roshaun coming to Paris, the bombing, Tyrell finding me, Ezra and Jamal showing up at my apartment with their friends.”
“You’ve had a pretty eventful week.”
“Not even a week. All of that was within a few days.” Cas opened the cabinet and pulled out canisters of flour and sugar.
“What are you doing?”
She retrieved a jar of yeast from the refrigerator. “I’m making bread.”
“At five in the morning.”
“It won’t be ready for a few hours.” She measured water into a measuring cup and dumped it into a large bowl. “I bake when I need to clear my head.”
Donovan leaned against the counter while she added sugar and yeast to the water. A quiet yearning pierced through him, and he took a picture in his mind of this moment. The quiet kitchen, Cas combining ingredients without the aid of a recipe, the glow of her skin beneath the overhead lights.
“I keep wondering why the coalition is going to such trouble to find me,” Cas said, interrupting his thoughts.
“I was asking myself the same question,” Donovan admitted. “I assume you shared everything you knew when you first entered the guardian program.”
“I did.” Cas added butter and salt. “Two members of their leadership were arrested for terrorism.”
“Only two?”
“They were the only ones the FBI had enough evidence on to make the charges stick.”
“I’m surprised the negative press didn’t take the whole coalition down.”
“That was our hope, but the rest of the organization did a good job of distancing themselves from the men arrested.” Cas scooped some flour into the bowl. “They even had an article about how shocked everyone was to find out people had used the coalition’s reputation to harm others.”
“They do have a way with spinning a story, don’t they?”
“Yeah. People want to believe in the basic premise of social reform and making life better for all Americans, regardless of race or gender. Unfortunately, most don’t dig deep enough to find that the coalition’s version of reform is to create chaos, mistrust, and contention.”
“To what end?”
“I’ve asked myself that question more times than I can count,” Cas said. “At first, I thought it was to generate more donations, but now I’m not so sure. The leadership isn’t just soliciting money. It seems to be going after the very foundation of American freedoms.”
“Maybe we’ve been going at our research all wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“We keep trying to connect people from your past to the coalition. Let’s reverse that,” Donovan said. “We should research the members of the coalition and track their movements and contacts. Maybe if we know what they’re doing, we can find the connection to you.”
“It’s worth a try.” Cas abandoned her spoon and used her hands to knead the ball of dough. “After I finish here, I’m going to take a shower, but then I’ll be ready to get started.”
“Is the bread for breakfast?”
“Part of it anyway.” Cas finished her task. After she washed her hands, she covered the bowl with a thin cloth. “I can make eggs and bacon to go with it, or we can have crepes instead.”
“I’ll be happy with either. You’re an amazing cook.”
“Glad you think so, because I’ll need you to go to the store again tomorrow.”
“More groceries? I just went two days ago.”
“Yes, but I don’t have everything I need to make beef bourguignon.”
“You’re using my stomach to manipulate me.”
Cas grinned. “And to think it took us so little time to get to know each other.”
* * *
Cas was going in circles. Every time she traced a contact for one coalition member, it connected right back to another one. She and Donovan had spent all day on their laptops, first in the living room and now at the kitchen table. The scent of dinner still hung in the air and mingled with the undertones of Donovan’s musky aftershave.
Trying not to think of the man across from her or the way his thermal shirt showed off his lean muscles, she started another search. After fifteen minutes, she reached another dead end.
“This is useless,” she said. “I’m not finding anything.”
“Give it time.”
She leaned back in her chair and struggled against the unwelcome frustration. She hated feeling out of control, and being locked inside was only aggravating her sense of helplessness.
As though sensing her inner turmoil, Donovan pushed back from the table. “Come on. We need to get some fresh air.”
Part of her wanted to rush straight to the door. Another part battled fear. “I don’t know . . .”
“It’s twilight, the best time to be invisible.” Donovan left the kitchen and led the way to the entryway. He opened the closet under the stairs where extra clothing was kept for unexpected guests. A tennis racket fell out. He replaced it and dug through an assortment of outerwear. When he turned, he held out a simple trench coat and knit cap. “Here. Put these on.”
She took them but hesitated.
“I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Her eyebrows rose, and some of the fear dropped away. “I feel like your client right now instead of your coworker.”
“Maybe it’s time to stop thinking of yourself as either of those things. Let me be your friend. You can trust me.”
The sincerity in his voice swayed her. Her gaze met his, and something undefinable passed between them. Maybe it wasn’t the coalition she should be worried about; maybe it should be spending so much time with Donovan and how it was going to impact her life once he returned to Africa.
Donovan grabbed his jacket and slipped it on, then reached for the doorknob. “Come on. We’ll go for a nice walk and work up an appetite for dessert.”
“Are you expecting me to make something for you?”
“No. I’m going to make us crepes.”
His announcement and the confidence in his voice gave her an unexplained sense of comfort. Or perhaps it was trust. She followed him outside and did a quick check of the deserted street.
Donovan turned toward the quiet part of the neighborhood, positioning himself between her and the street. When another couple approached on the opposite sidewalk, Donovan slipped his arm around her shoulders. The now familiar spurt of attraction flared, and Cas fought against it. Her connection to him was normal, considering how much time they had spent together. Once they went back to their normal lives, all of this would become a sweet memory to look back on. Well, it would be a good memory except for the people chasing her.
Her throat closed, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the warmth of Donovan beside her or the fear of someone trying to kill her again.
She didn’t speak until the couple passed by and were out of earshot. Struggling to regain her footing, she asked, “Getting a little friendly, aren’t you?”
Donovan gave her shoulder a squeeze but kept his arm in place. “No one looking for you would expect you to be half of a couple.”
She couldn’t fault his thought process. They walked in silence for another minute.
“Turn left up here.” She pointed at an upcoming intersection.
Donovan complied. A few minutes later, they reached one of the canals that flowed through the city.
Cas laid her hand on the brick wall that ran the length of it. The last fingers of sunlight shimmered off the water along with the lights of the houses opposite them. “I love how so many European cities have waterways as part of their transportation systems.”
“It’s peaceful here.” Donovan’s arm dropped away, and he leaned on the wall beside her. “You can almost forget there are people in the world trying to cause others pain.”
“That’s why I like it here. It’s like the outside world doesn’t exist.”
“It’s quite the change from where you lived in Paris. You were in the middle of everything.”
It was true. “I love the energy of the city, but everyone needs time to get away and reflect on what’s really important.”
“What’s important to you, Cas?”
“My family,” she answered without hesitation. “What about you? What memories keep you going when you’re alone for days on end?”
“That’s an interesting question, one I’m not sure how to answer.” He pushed away from the wall. “We should get back.”
As much as she hated to leave the serenity in front of her, she fell into step beside him. Donovan took her hand in his, and her throat went dry.
They were halfway back to the house when he broke the silence. “I saw a deck of cards in the living room. Want to play some gin rummy when we get back?”
“Loser does the dishes?”
“We already did the dishes.”
“No, the ones you’re going to dirty from making dessert,” Cas said.
“Okay. You’re on.” He linked his fingers through hers, and her stomach somersaulted. “I should probably warn you that I rarely lose.”
The challenge in his voice settled her insides, leaving her with a comfortable warm glow. She fought back a smile. “That’s good to know.”