Page 40 of Cast in Shadow
She grabbed her laptop and settled on the sofa where she’d been the night before. She sat down in a cross-legged position, and her fingers began flying over the keys. She frowned at the screen several times, then stared blankly off into the distance, as if deep in thought.
Chapter Eighteen
Aggie
T wanted her to go with Zeke and let things play out, more for appearances’ sake than anything else. Refusing to continue would arouse suspicion and inspire questions, which neither of them wanted. Their chosen paths required them to be ghosts.
Or Chameleons.
Thanks to being in the wrong place at the wrong time and getting herself abducted in Parryville, she was going to have to change her colors soon. But knowing T, he already had a plan in mind.
It was no big deal. She’d assumed many identities over the years. The downside was having her time with Zeke come to an end. He’d really grown on her. They had a connection, a natural chemistry, that was hard to come by. Ironically enough, it was their similarities that prevented them from ever seeing one another again. They were both loners. Transients. Unwilling and unable to commit to anyone because of who they were and what they did.
There were exceptions, of course. Aggie knew of at least two of T’s operatives who had formed “permanent partnerships,” as T called them, but Aggie didn’t think anything like that was in her future.
Zeke’s, maybe.
Attached with T’s coded message was a complete dossier on her current shadow. Zeke really was his name. Zeke Ericsson. He’d served as a SEAL and been considered one of the best until a mission went full-on FUBAR in the Middle East. Men died, highly classified weapons disappeared and wound up in the hands of the enemy, and Zeke walked away with the blame on his shoulders and a dishonorable discharge.
Aggie skimmed the highlights a second time and came to the same conclusion—it didn’t add up.
In the first place, no one man at Zeke’s level could have been behind a fuckup of that magnitude, not without a lot of inside help and someone much higher up pulling strings. In the second place, if he had been a coconspirator, the powers that be wouldn’t have let him walk away with nothing more than a badge of shame. They would have charged him with treason and made an example out of him. And in the third place, Zeke was no traitor. She knew that to the depths of her soul.
He was a scapegoat—she was sure of it. The secret agreement he’d signed was proof of it.
But why had he agreed? Why would an honorable man—a skilled, highly regarded operative—cop to something like that? Who was he protecting?
She glanced over at Zeke, grilling like the sexy boss he was. There was nothing dishonorable about him, except possibly his decision to work for a woman like Charley. He’d said it was the cash, but she wasn’t buying it any more than his signed confession that he’d been brokering deals with the enemy.
Just because he spent the day worshipping your body, taking you to heights of ecstasy you’d only imagined before then, doesn’t make him a good guy, Aggie.
No, of course it didn’t. But she’d thought he was a good guy before the epic sex. And the notes T had included about his service record only strengthened that belief.
His code name was Raguel. The archangel of justice. It fit him as well as Robin Hood fit her.
As if sensing her gaze, Zeke peered at her over his shoulder. “Enjoying the view?” he asked with a smirk.
She was. He was as fine-looking from the back as he was from the front. Broad shoulders and back, adorned with beautiful ink, sporting red marks from her nails, then tapering down into narrow, talented hips. A nice, firm backside, perfect for holding on to while he pistoned between her thighs, currently encased in soft, well-worn denim.
“I’d enjoy it more if you were naked.”
He laughed at that, a low, sexy sound. “Grilling naked is asking for trouble.”
“Good point,” she said on an exhale. “Speaking of, how much longer?”
“Impatient, are we?”
“Hungry,” she corrected. “I’m starving.”
“You wouldn’t be if you ate more than nuts and berries.”
She laughed. Her soul just felt lighter with him around.
“I told you, I’m not good in the kitchen.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” he said, his eyes heating. His gaze slid to the counter. No doubt he was remembering what they’d done there earlier.
“Generally speaking, if I have to cook it, I’m not going to eat it,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken.
