Page 21 of Relentless
Kara rocked back and forth in a gentle rhythm as her gaze lingered on the lake. A boat motored by—out for an early-morning cruise—and a fish jumped out of the water twenty feet from the private dock.
“You look like you have something on your mind,” he said.
A small frown touched her lips, but she didn’t look at him as she answered. “You know, my sister was asking me about Shelley and Sunil on the walk yesterday. Over the years, I’ve worked with hundreds, if not thousands, of people. And that’s only a fraction of the aid agency’s employees and volunteers. But do you think it’s weird that two people I worked with on my last assignment are dead?”
The information about both Shelley and Sunil being on the same assignment with her was new to him. And it notched up his concern twofold. But before he could answer, she continued with a shake of her head.
“Never mind,” she said. “Between Sabina’s questions and listening to too many of Gina’s stories, I’m probably seeing things that aren’t there.”
As a retired CIA operative, Gina O’Rourke had more than a few hair-raising tales. She never went into detail, but what shedidshare gave them all a glimpse into an agent’s life that he wasn’t sure any of them wanted. Unfortunately, while he agreed that Gina’s stories could get a person’s mind working, they weren’t responsible for Kara’s train of thought or question. And it was time to pay the piper.
He cleared his throat, and she pulled her gaze from the lake and settled it on him. “Actually, Kara, I do think it’s weird. Weird enough that I’ve already started looking into it.” Then, for the next five minutes, he told her everything. He told her about using HICC resources to access the files on her colleagues. He relayed what he found and some of the questions he had. He even confessed that he’d talked to Sabina about it. She hadn’t been pleased about that last bit. The fact that he’dtriedto tell her was a paltry balm.
“You said Shelley’s death was listed as heart failure and not a heart attack?” she asked. He nodded. She stilled for a beat then spoke again. “I want to see what you found.”
He grimaced, hating what he had to say next. “I can’t show you what I accessed through the HICC systems. Security and confidentiality obligations won’t allow it. But I can share my list of questions.” She opened her mouth, no doubt to protest, but he cut her off. “I’m sorry, Kara, I really can’t. In the same way you couldn’t show me medical records of one of your patients.”
Her mouth snapped shut, and she returned her gaze to the lake. He waited in silence. A minute, or perhaps two, passed, then finally she sighed and looked at him.
“I get it,” she said. “I hate it, but I get it. I’d like to see your questions, though.”
He started to rise but moved too fast and heat shot through his leg like a shard of glass. He couldn’t stop the hiss of pain.
“Sit,” Kara ordered. “I’ll get your computer. Do you need some Advil?”
He resettled on his chair and shook his head. “I’m good. My computer is on the bedside table.”
She nodded as she rose. A minute later, she returned, handed him his computer, then perched on the arm of his chair. He considered suggesting they move to the rocker. But sitting on something that moved wasn’t the best idea. Instead, he grabbed the cushion behind his back and handed it to her. She stared at it for a beat, then took it and set it on the arm of the chair before reseating herself.
“Here,” he said, opening the document he’d pulled together. As she leaned over to read, her breast pressed against his shoulder and her hair brushed his temple. Her focus was absolute. His, on the other hand, was completely shot.
He glanced at her face. Her attention remained fixed on the document. After a beat, she leaned even closer. He shifted in his seat.
“You okay?” she asked, pulling away a touch.
“Fine. If you don’t consider the fact thatyou are killing me.”
Her brows dipped in confusion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He pointedly dropped his gaze from her eyes to her breast, still pressed against him. They weren’t as close together as they had been a moment ago. But honestly, his body didn’t need much more than a hint of a touch from her to perk up and start howling.
Her gaze followed his. It didn’t help the situation that it lingered there. He didn’t move. In fact, he was almost sure he’d stopped breathing as he watched her contemplate the physical connection.
Finally, her gaze lifted to his again. But she didn’t shift away.
“I’m still a little mad that you talked to my sister before you talked to me,” she said.
“It won’t happen again,” he assured her. Although how he managed to get the words out, he hadn’t a clue. All oxygen in his body had diverted south.
They stared at each other for another long moment before she spoke again. “Is this real, Ethan?”
“The chemistry between us?” he asked. She nodded. “Yes,” he answered.
“And the rest?” she asked. It was a testament to their relationship—their friendship—that he didn’t need clarification.
“It’s real, Kara. We’re already friends. We can be lovers, too. We can see where this will take us, or we can walk away. The choice is yours.”
Her gaze dipped to his lips, then jerked back up again. “Why is it my choice?”
