Page 3 of Fourth Point Of Contact

I laughed at the horror on Nick’s face. I wondered how many times Fox had offered to perform for him when they were SEALs. I snuck around the back and jimmied the lockbefore stepping inside. Slipping through the house was easy enough, and I was pretty sure Cash would have alarms going off somewhere since I broke in, but since he wasn’t here to rescue her, it didn’t matter. He’d see me and know why I was here.

If he was still looking out for her.

“Gotta say, I was not expecting to find you watching Real Housewives.”

She gasped and spun around, glaring at me when she saw me leaning casually against the doorframe to the living area. “What are you doing here?”

“Just came to swoop in and save you.”

She flipped off the TV and stood, tossing the remote on the table. “Well, you can go away. I don’t need saving.”

I glanced around the one-bedroom safe house and raised an eyebrow at her. “Really? Because this place is fucking depressing.”

“And where did you plan on sending me? I’m not going back to OPS.”

“Wasn’t planning on taking you there.”

“Then where were you going to take me?”

“Send you. Paris.”

Her jaw dropped and excitement lit her face. “France?”

“That’s usually where people assume when I say Paris. Though, if you’d like, I could send you to Texas. I doubt it’s as beautiful as the real deal, but I hear they have an Eiffel Tower. It even has a cowboy hat on top.”

She grimaced at that. “I can’t imagine I would survive long in Texas.”

“You’d be surprised what you can live through,” I chuckled, knowing she was already well aware.

“Wait, what about the threat?”

“We have it on good authority that the threat has been removed.”

“Then why would I need to be moved somewhere else? Why can’t I just go about my life here?”

That was a question I didn’t want to answer, but knew I had to. “It’s just a precaution. With everything going on, it’s best if you’re as far away from OPS as possible.”

“You mean, as far away from Asher.”

I shook my head immediately. “This has nothing to do with him. I swear it. But the fact remains that unless you’re not at OPS, you’re still potentially a target.”

“So, I leave.”

“You leave,” I agreed.

“If they found me here, they could find me there.”

“They could.” I pulled out a packet and handed it over to her. “A new identity, done by the best of the best. You’re taking over someone else’s identity.”

“How?” she shook her head, flipping through the new identity.

I grimaced at the thought of telling her. “It’s a little morbid. Basically, someone took a child who died as an infant and kept them alive throughout the years. There aren’t many identities like this available.”

“Kept the child alive…” she said hesitantly, looking up at me.

“Enrolled the child in school, kept records of appointments, where you went to college, gave you a job…for all intents and purposes, this person had an identity that can’t be denied. You belong to this identity now. No one will be able to find you with this because you are now legally Anaïs Boucher. You’ll be able to go through customs with no issues and return to your apartment.”

“My apartment…”

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