Defenseless (Salvation, #5)(26)

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

We both pause, giving ourselves a minute to mull over what was said. I’ve never had problems killing someone. I know that doesn’t make me the typical woman. I’ll do what I have to do in order to get home safe. It’s the way the job is. Of course, I’d bet my body count is way lower than his.

Mark stands and walks toward the window. “Can I ask you something?”

“Does my answer really matter?”

He laughs, “No. Probably not.”

“Then ask.”

“Are you happy?”

I look at him with my mouth slightly agape. “What does that mean?”

“Exactly what I asked.”

“I’m doing just fine.”

“So that’s a no.”

“No, that’s a . . . I don’t have to answer your questions.”

“Defensive much?”

“Invasive much?” I retort.

Mark chuckles, pulling the curtain closed. “I thought so. You and I are the same, Charlie. We both have jobs that force us to be strong. We face death, corruption, and things others only imagine. We live alone.”

“I have Dominic and my mother. I’m just fine.”

He nods but doesn’t appear to believe me. “Like I said, we’re the same. We both have used our careers to mask any loneliness.” He heads into the bathroom, and I think over our bizarre conversation.

Am I happy? I don’t know. Is anyone ever really happy? We’re selfish creatures. We always want more, bigger, better, and then when we get it . . . we want again. I wanted to be in the CIA. When I finally got in, I wanted to be an operative. When I finally moved up enough to be placed on assignment, I wanted the most dangerous one. It was never enough.

He exits wearing a distracted expression.

I wait for a minute before I finally crack. “What is it?”

“Tomorrow we’ll do a sightseeing tour. My asset will be in touch then.”

“How did he know how to get in touch?”

“You have your secrets, Charlie, I have mine. I’m not about to divulge everything.”

Such a bastard. Just when I start to like him, he goes and says something that reminds me why I need to keep my distance.

“Here I thought we were finally becoming partners.” I shrug. “But I guess I was wrong. You don’t have to be such a jerk.”

Mark shakes his head and lets out a groan. “Un-f*cking-real.”

“I need to do a little recon tomorrow before we search the area. I also don’t think we should stay here too long. Mazir isn’t in Egypt, and he’s where the target is. I’ll share my plans, since you insist on being an *.”

Mark steps so close I have to look up. He leans forward so our noses nearly touch. “I have to be an * to you. If I don’t keep pushing you away, I’m going to end up pushing myself on you. I could be your partner, but you’re hell bent on reminding me that’ll never happen.” I gasp. “So know this, when I’m an * or a dick to you . . . it’s so I don’t rip your clothes off and f*ck you until neither of us can walk. It’s because you make my blood boil to the point I’m going to lose it. And I never lose it.” He keeps his face this close for a beat before he turns his back on me.

I sit there completely stunned. I could lie and say there isn’t a part of me hoping for option one. That my stomach isn’t clenched at the idea of Mark and I going at it, but that shouldn’t happen. It’s dangerous and completely reckless. We have a job to do, and I’ve already screwed up this mission once.

He returns to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. I think there’s something more behind his words, but I don’t know him well enough to truly tell. So instead, I sit and plot our next move, study the map, and wish my father were here. He’d know what to do. He’d have a clear plan that would enable us to get in and out without any issues.

I miss him.

He was my sounding board when things got tough. He’s the reason I’m the agent I am.

Someone set him up to die.

Someone knew he had that file.

Someone made sure it was never leaked.

Now I pray that same someone doesn’t know I have a copy of it.





I flop back on the bed feeling exhausted and frustrated. Not having Mandi feeding me small bits of information is different. It’s like flying blind. On the other hand, I have a real-life handler of sorts in the form of a six-foot-one man-child. This was supposed to be easier with Mark not harder.

With my eyes closed, I think back to the mission in Afghanistan. It was by far my hardest assignment. It helps that I have naturally olive skin, almost black hair, and an exotic look. It allows me to blend in almost any region of the world. I can play up my attributes depending on the assignment. My father used to joke that I was the ultimate chameleon. It’s more than looking the part; it’s knowing the job. I don’t always have to look the part, but I need to play the part.

“I can not help you once you are in the compound,” my asset reminds me again. He’s worried about leading me into a situation I can’t handle. It’s almost cute. However, at this point there’s no turning back. I have strict orders to get any information on whom Mazir is working with and his location. Losing someone isn’t a situation the agency takes lightly. I need to reassure him and then move forward.