Defenseless (Salvation, #5)(13)

He releases me and bursts out laughing. He clutches his stomach as it rolls through him. “Okay, Charlie. Whatever you say.”

This new emotion runs through me. I’m not sure if it’s embarrassment or fear, since I’m not acquainted with either. He terrifies me, though. The fact he can sense when I’m bluffing seeds doubt. What if Mark is somehow involved in all this?

“Maybe we should talk another time.” I start to second-guess reading him in.

“What?” he asks in disbelief. “You’re joking, right? Because I didn’t drive up here and save your ass to have you back out.” Mark’s arms cross as he plops himself on my chair. “You want me gone? You’re going to have to drag my ass out.”

“We can’t cross lines. There’s too much at stake to even remotely play games with each other.” I go for honesty. Maybe if he sees, he’ll stop pushing the buttons I wasn’t aware I have.

“I agree. You’ll have to keep your hands to yourself.” He raises a brow.

“Is everything a joke to you?”

“Pretty much.”

“This won’t work,” I huff.

“Start talking, Charlie. We have a mutually important issue here. I don’t know what yours is, but you know mine. If anyone is at a disadvantage, it’s me. I came on your terms. I would’ve much rather had the upper hand.”

That’s partly true. I have the cards and the information he wants. Mark, Jackson, and Aaron are the ones who are trying to wade through the dark. Of course, I don’t have anything solid on who’s pulling the strings, but I have a hunch. I know Al Mazir is involved. They tortured Aaron for information he didn’t have. And if Mark knows a name that Aaron figured out, I would bet my house that’s why he’s here.

I know bluffing. I know dying before giving up anything. I also know very subtle things the human body can’t lie about. But as well trained as I am, and as damn good as I am, I have a tell.

“I have to be able to trust you, Mark. I need to know that no matter what, you’re in this. One hundred percent.”

Mark stands. “I will find the information I need with or without you. I think if we work together, we’ll accomplish a hell of a lot more and a lot faster. Trust works both ways. How do I know the CIA isn’t somehow involved in this? What if you’re trying to gather something from me? I don’t know if you are, so I have to trust you. You’re not the only one taking a risk, but answer me this . . .” He seems to weigh his words. “You know everything about me, I’m sure. You know how long I was a SEAL, my service record, the medals I’ve been awarded, and the people I’ve killed, but what do I know about you?”

“Nothing,” I answer, because he’s right. “It’s meant to be that way.”

“Exactly. So again I ask, who is taking the real risk?”

“We both are.”

“Wrong answer,” he says and turns to head out the door.

“What are you doing?”

He stops at the threshold. “Leaving. When you’re ready to tell me everything, no holds barred, feel free to call me. Until then, good luck, Charlie.”

My mind is at war. I have choices, we all do, but hesitation isn’t something I have time for. Mark is my best shot at having someone smart, cunning, and ready to do whatever needs to be done for answers. He won’t flinch if we have to do something unethical.

The choice is mine, and maybe I’m playing into his hands. Maybe he isn’t being transparent, but my gut says he is. “Stop,” I command. “I’d rather save you another trip here.”

He turns, walks back in the room, and resumes his last location. Mark doesn’t gloat or rub it in my face. Instead, he sits quietly and waits.

I turn on the monitors behind the one-way mirror, press the button that engages the steel door, effectively locking us in and ensuring no one can overhear, and activate the high frequency noise in case someone planted bugs. The trap door under my desk opens and I pull the file out.

“You’re going to share the name of your decorator,” Mark jokes.

I can’t say I don’t enjoy the awe in his eyes. I have more safeguards in this space than anyone could guess. But I needed a place where I could escape, hide, and sometimes lock myself away. “You’re not high enough on the food chain.”

“I joined the wrong government agency.”

“It’s okay. I’ll let you look at my toys.”

His gaze shifts to my breasts.

“I’ll play with them, too.” His green eyes deepen. “Your toys, that is.”

“Sure, that’s what you meant.”

He shrugs as if it was only natural to be caught staring. “They’re eye level.”

I shake my head and sit next to him. It’s time to get to work. Each minute we spend doing this is a minute my finish line gets farther away. “So, how much do you know about Al Mazir and the cell that held Aaron?”

“I know this isn’t the first time I’m hearing that name.” Mark’s voice is smooth as glass.

“Well, allow me to enlighten you.”

“First, I need to know something.”

“What?”

“What’s your first name?”

“Not on your life, Dixon.”