Page 49 of Wait for Me

Those days were long gone now.

Although the danger was over now, Marie wondered if new danger was rolling in.

Marie hadn’t been assigned to the Middle East in several years, so she was quite sure it had nothing to do with that. After she was done with it, they kept her in France, chasing after a French terrorist, not Middle Eastern.

Granted, that project was not over, but Marie had asked to be removed from the project after they captured Molyneux’s associates in Tel Aviv. Once the team returned to Europe, her Arabic linguistics abilities were no longer needed.

The multinational effort to hunt for Molyneux and her terrorist organization went on, but Marie’s part in all of that was over. They had enough French speakers, and she could go home.

Perfect timing to take a break in Alaska with her son.

And ex-husband.

He seemed to be staring at her.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Marie asked.

“Your mind is somewhere else,” Logan said. “I can always tell. Or could, anyhow. If I didn’t know you any better, I would say that you know more about Abdul’s family than you let on.”

“More speculating.”

“Am I? You told me that Abdul’s family had three bodyguards. What could possibly happen on a cruise ship?”

Marie didn’t want to break the news to Logan that many things could happen on a cruise ship—murders and suicides, people falling overboard, to name just a few. Of course, there were less dramatic problems like food poisoning and fire.

“To be sure, we’re not always on a cruise ship, yes?” Marie countered. “Whenever we go on excursions, we’re on land.”

“We were in Ketchikan. I think we’re in good hands with the authorities if something happens on US soil.”

“We’ll be in Victoria on Friday, but I’m sure Canadian law enforcement is reliable too.” Marie made a mental note to find out who to contact once they reached the island—in case anything happened.

Nothing is going to happen.

This is a simple no-drama vacation.

Marie chuckled.Yeah, keep telling yourself that.

“What’s funny?” Logan asked. “What are you not telling me?”

“What am I not telling you?”

Logan dropped his feet onto the plush carpet, and leaned forward. When he did that, his eyebrows rose.

Marie had seen that look before. He was getting serious.

“When my PI gave me a report of what he found in Europe, he said that you worked for the US State Department.”

“I work where I’m paid. If a diplomat or attaché asks for my translation services, I will work for them—if they pay me well and the assignment doesn’t go against my personal principles. It’s a job, Logan.”

“Why did you carry a gun then?” Logan asked. “Do translators carry weapons as part of their work?”

“Some of us carry for our personal protection.” Marie wondered whether Logan’s PI saw more than they had thought.

That day, three years before, her decoy had carried a gun. How would Marie disclose that fact without also sharing more about what she had been doing? Even a small amount of information could cause Logan to ask more questions.

Therefore, she could not tell him that she had been deep undercover that week when Vienna had been attacked, that they were chasing leads across Europe, trying to prevent another Vienna.

“Someday, when I’m retired, we will have a chat about all that. However, as I recall, I did not carry a gun during that particular week when I ran into your PI. Clearly, he was mistaken. It wasn’t me.”

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