Page 83 of Protecting You

It didn’t yield much information. Callan was mostly listening as he tapped on his laptop’s keyboard.

Leaving her too much time to think.

Why had she told him about the fire? It was far and away the most embarrassing, most shameful thing she’d ever done. If the fire in the walls hadn’t been discovered, it could’ve smoldered for hours and set the entire house aflame.

Her whole family could have been killed because of her arrogance.

She would never forget the look on her father’s face that day as he’d surveyed the damage she’d done. Utter disgust.

Eighteen years had passed, eighteen years of trying to be better, of striving to succeed. But sometimes she still caught that expression on Dad’s face. No matter how hard she’d tried to make up for her shortcomings, she’d never been good enough.

When she’d graduated from Boston College summa cum laude, Dad had patted her shoulder and said, “Too bad you didn’t get into an Ivy League school, where it would matter.”

When she’d been hired by the NSA, Dad had said, “The CIA has high standards. The NSA is more your level.”

When she’d failed a second time to join the Agency, Dad had suggested that maybe the rejection was “a sign to aim lower.”

And when she’d quit her boring analyst job… She’d never forget his reaction.

“You want to own your own business? How will you ever make that work?”

As if the idea of her finding success was so far outside the realm of possibility that it didn’t even occur to him.

In Dad’s eyes, she was a failure and always would be.

“That makes sense,” Callan said to Malcolm, pulling her back to the moment.

He met her eyes, wearing a scowl that wasn’t meant for her. “No. That’s not going to—” He stood and stared out the window. “That’s the point,” he said. “Which is why she needs to get out of?—”

Well, this was frustrating.

She gripped his elbow. “Put it on speaker.”

He shook his head and walked toward the door.

She followed, getting more annoyed by the second.

Callan spun to pace back, nearly crashing into her. He scooted past and kept walking. “I don’t like it.” And then, “Me? I didn’t do any of—” And then, “Yeah, I see what you’re…”

If he didn’t finish a sentence soon, she would throw something at him.

“Fine.” Callan didn’t sound like he thought anything wasfine. “We’ll get back to you.” He ended the call and tossed his cell on the bed.

“What?”

“I had a feeling Malcolm was going to…” He ran a hand over his short hair. “I was hoping I could make him see reason, but….”

It took all her self-control not to stomp her foot. “Use nouns, please. And verbs. And full sentences so I know what the heck you’re talking about.”

He took a breath, then blew it out slowly. “I knew when Malcolm insisted we leave the note… They want you to try to smooth things over with Ghazi.”

She dropped onto the bed. “You can’t be serious. We went out the window. Weescaped.They want me to walk right back in and?—”

“No!” The word sounded almost angry. “You’re not going back. You’re not going anywhere he can get his hands on you.”

Thank God. She didn’t think she had the courage to return to Ghazi’s presence, voluntarily or otherwise.

“They want you to call him. They want you to keep him on the hook so he doesn’t realize he’s been compromised. You need to convince him you’re still loyal.”

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