Page 64 of Wicked Intention

Turning her hand into his, Zo laced their fingers. He always kept her on his left side so his right arm would be free. She’d almost gotten used to that. “I never meant to ambush you.”

“I know.” His gaze settled on the darkened water in front of them. The silence lasted a long time before he said, “I was put in foster care after I’d been abandoned. I was so young, the only thing I knew was my name, and I might have been wrong about the Rowland part.”

Zo brought her other hand around so that she could wrap both of them around his. “The police couldn’t find your mother or father?”

He shook his head. “That’s one of the reasons why they thought Rowland might be wrong. I did bounce around foster care, loquita.” Now he looked at her. “Not a sob story, but the truth. The longest I ever lived with any family was a school year—eight or nine months, right?”

“Sounds right.”

“Yeah. I stayed away from the toys the family’s real kids liked to avoid conflict—so no video games or trucks. I read instead, everything I could get my hands on. I tried to fit in, to become whatever the family wanted me to be, hoping I’d stick somewhere, but I never did.”

She considered that for a moment. It raised a question—was the man she was spending time with the genuine Finn, or was he pretending to be who he thought she wanted? Zo shook her head. They were both on their best behavior right now, but she felt confident this was the real man. “Your team became your family. Don’t deny it. I hear the way you talk about them, especially Ski and Griff.”

“You’re right. They’re my family.”

“Why’d you leave the Army then?”

Finn leaned back on the bench, his shoulder pressing into hers. “You want the truth, or what I told my buddies?”

“I’ll take the truth.” He’d lied to his friends?

“I was losing myself in the roles I assumed, especially Tom. Every time I played the part, it became harder to push him away. Harder to become Finn again. By the time we met, I was wondering if he’d take over.”

“Why weren’t you worried about the other personalities?”

Finn shrugged. “Those roles came and went. Tom was frequent. It seemed like most of the ops needed that dude.”

Zo thought about what he said about becoming too much like Tom. Memories ran through her head. Memories of Finn protecting her from Silva’s wrath. Memories of him risking his mission to keep her safe, even after Torres had her taken hostage. “Tom wasn’t taking over. Trust me on that.”

He didn’t argue with her, but he didn’t appear convinced. “My turn to ask a question.”

Despite her best efforts, Zo tensed the same way he had. She’d known this was coming, but she hadn’t been ready. “Shoot,” she said, trying to fake nonchalance.

“Why do you make so many trips to Puerto Jardin? And don’t tell me it’s to visit friends.” His rainforest-green eyes bore into her. “The country is a war zone.”

The Army had checked her out. It’s how he’d gotten her home address, and it’s how he’d gotten the information about her frequent trips to South America, too. She straightened, sitting rigidly on the bench. “I’m not involved with drugs.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“But you were wondering. Why wouldn’t you? I know Ramos well enough to call him Al, and flying back and forth between the US and Puerto Jardin is suspicious as hell.” Zo scowled. “You don’t want to know how many times I’ve had to answer questions going through customs in LA. I’m aware of what it looks like.”

“Why do you go to Puerto Jardin?”

“Why Puerto Jardin? Because sometimes it seems like every stolen artifact in South and Central America goes through there.”

“Why doyougo there?” Finn repeated.

Zo sighed. They were going deep tonight, might as well go the full distance. Her career and his reaction to it would play a significant role in whether or not they had a relationship. “It’s my job to meet with the men who broker sales of these stolen relics.”

Finn’s muscles tensed. “Let me get this straight. Your boss sends you to a war-torn country to meet with men who deal in stolen antiquities? What the hell does he expect you to do?”

“Work miracles.”

“Loquita.” There was a note of warning in his voice.

“I’m not trying to be a smartass.” She took a deep breath. “The best thing would be to prevent the looting of sites, to begin with, but it’s impossible to stop. We can’t even slow it down. Arrests are few and far between, even in the United States, and when they do happen, the sentence is rarely more than a slap on the wrist. History is disappearing into private collections, and those artifacts should be in museums.”

Finn put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug. “What miracles does your boss expect you to pull off?”

---