Page 118 of Beyond Protection

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"And if she's armed?"

"Sounds like they shoot her."

He inhaled sharply. "I don't like this."

"You've made that clear."

I reached up. Touched his jaw, causing it to twitch. "You're catastrophizing."

"I'm being realistic."

"You're scared."

"Yes." No hesitation. "I am."

The skin on my forearms prickled. Eamon didn't admit fear.

"Me too," I said quietly.

His hand covered mine. "Three years ago, I froze. One second, and my client died." His voice dropped. "I won't freeze tomorrow. But that doesn't mean I'm not terrified I'll miss something."

"You won't. I trust you. More than I've trusted anyone in years."

Eamon sighed. "You have too much faith in me."

"Or you don't have enough in yourself."

"Come on," he said finally. "Let's get you fed."

***

Pike Place Market at midday was chaotic.

Fish and brine. Roasting chestnuts. Coffee and salt air. Too many bodies in too little space.

"Radio check," Clairmont said through the earpiece. "Status?"

"I'm here."

"Copy. Agent Price?"

"North entrance. I have visual."

Clairmont gave the signal. "You're green to proceed."

I stepped into the arcade. Tourists flowed around vendor stalls. A child screamed with delight.

"Breathe," Eamon said quietly.

I moved deeper. Stopped at a blanket vendor—wool throws in pyramids. Ma collected them.

"This one's popular." The vendor pulled out a deep-green throw with Celtic knots in the pattern.

I knew Ma would love it. "I'll take it."

While the vendor wrapped it, I scanned the crowd—too many faces.

"Movement at your six," Eamon said. "Woman, dark hair, flower stand."

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