22

“Private Brooks?”

Vivien stopped short just outside the door to her building. The night before, she’d given Chase a quick kiss on the cheek and practically sprinted from his truck, unable to remain in it with him and her own shame breathing up all the oxygen for a second longer.

Part of her hoped it would be him outside her door that morning, but, much to her dismay, it wasn’t.

Not once had she cried over the way he’d shut down when she’d told him how she felt until she was safely inside her own living space. Then she’d allowed herself the night to break down and wallow in self-pity. Now she had to suck it up and face him at her final evaluation for certification.

The man who’d called out to her looked nothing like Chase. He was tall and lean, with short brown hair styled carefully to one side. He wore a dark suit and sunglasses and stood next to a sleek black sedan.

“Can I help you?”

He nodded and opened a black portfolio-style billfold to flash an official-looking badge. “Special Agent Marshall Whitworth. I’d like a word with you if possible.”

Vivien’s head spun. She’d thought she’d left this life behind in Texas. The FBI, the CIA. All of the government officials who believed her parents’ disappearances were fraudulent to cover their involvement with her mother’s Russian crime family.

“I have a class to get to.” It was more than just a class. It was her certification to see if she qualified to be an EOD tech. It was also the first time she’d see Chase face-to-face since walking away from him the day before. And she was not going to be late even for a federal agent.

“Actually you don’t,” Agent Whitworth informed her. “It’s been rescheduled. Put off for a few hours because you aren’t feeling well.”

She stilled, then let her shoulders slump. “Okay. Then I guess I can talk.” Not like she had a choice. She didn’t know why these types even bothered asking.

He opened the back door of the sedan, and she hesitated.

“You will be back in time for your certification. I promise.”

She eyed him skeptically. “In my experience, the promises of men like yourself don’t mean much.”

Agent Whitworth smirked and it bothered her that she couldn’t see his eyes behind his dark sunglasses.

“Guess you’ll have to take a leap of faith then.”

***

“No,” Vivien told Agent Whitworth and his partner, a black-haired stone-faced man who introduced himself as Agent Emilio Gutiérrez. She shook her head rapidly in the back of the sedan. “I can’t do this. I won’t.”

“You don’t exactly have a choice, Vivien,” Agent Gutiérrez informed her. “This isn’t a drill. Dmitri Vetrovsky wants to use you as leverage to get something he wants very badly. Therefore, he’s coming for you. Period. This isn’t a game. He won’t play nice to get what he wants. And we know for a fact you don’t have it anyway. That won’t matter so much to him.”

“What is it, exactly?”

“Information on your parents. Specifically, information your dad is privy to.”

Vivien’s heart pounded so hard she was certain it would tear through her chest any moment. “How? I mean, why? Why would he think I know anything? As far as I know my parents have been missing since I was a kid.”

The agents exchanged a look much like Jen and Emerson did when they knew something she didn’t—or when they were realizing she was slow on the uptake.

“They are missing. Officially, that is. Unofficially is another story,” Agent Whitworth said evenly. “And we’ll get to that. But if you want to know more about them and their whereabouts, you’ll have to do as we say.”

Vivien’s mind blanked then began to whir rapidly as if someone had pressed START on the spin cycle. “And if I don’t? If I refuse to play your game your way? What happens? Does the government just hand me over to Vetrovsky?”

Agent Gutiérrez sighed loudly. “No. Of course not. But we can’t put people on you twenty-four seven, and he has his ways. It will be a risk and not just for you, but for anyone you care about.”

“Speaking of which,” Agent Whitworth broke in. He produced a blank manila envelope and handed it to her. “I’m guessing this is someone you care about. Someone who you wouldn’t want to be involved in your mess.”

Her mess? She opened her mouth to toss a few choice words at the agent but closed it when she removed the stack of photographs from the envelope.

Chase. Him walking across the base. Getting in his truck.

Him leaning her against the building by where they did her training in the bomb suit.

Her leaving his office the night she almost sabotaged them in front of his CO.

The two of the making love on the beach.

That one really burned her.

Hot, angry tears pricked her eyes. Vivien wasn’t the type to cry when she was sad. When she did lose control of her tears, which was rare, she cried more out of anger and frustration than anything else.

“This was private,” she bit out, clenching the photo tightly. “On a private beach. Not entertainment for some paparazzi-wannabe FBI agent.”

“Sorry,” Agent Gutiérrez said as if he was bored with her entire outburst. “We thought helping you stay alive was more important than your privacy. I’ll make a note in your file for next time.”

“I need more than this. If you really want me to do as you say, I need to know for certain that I will get to see my parents. Alive.”

Whitworth frowned at her in the rearview mirror. “And I wish I could give you that. But I can’t. All I can do is tell you what I know about what happened the night they were taken. Everything else is above my pay grade.”

“Then tell me.” Vivien leaned back in the plush leather seat, trying desperately to absorb the emotional impact of what was happening here.

“Not until you’ve done what we asked. There’s a price on your head, Ms. Brooks. We won’t leave you vulnerable, but unless you follow protocol, we can’t make any promises.”

“You really think Vetrovsky could get to me so easily? Here? I mean there are soldiers posted all—”

“We’re not playing guessing games here, Private. We don’t think he could. We know,” Agent Whitworth interrupted. “You think the FBI took these shots of you? You think we’re losing sleep over you screwing your CO? We’re not. We lifted the photos from a file transfer from Vetrovsky’s e-mail server. The only place we followed you to was the beach because we didn’t think you’d be safe off base. We didn’t know he’d sent anyone here for you until yesterday. Hence why we’re here now.”

Knowing someone was already here to hurt her, someone who’d been close enough to photograph her all hours of the day and night, someone who could easily take out Chase as well, made it harder to refuse to cooperate.

She didn’t like what they’d suggested. She knew it would be even more detrimental to Chase’s life and hers than getting caught by his CO.

But it was that or risk their lives. Her own life she might’ve gambled with. But the man she loved would not be placed in danger because of her. Even if he hadn’t decided yet whether he loved her back or not.