The warmth of her palm against his chest rather than the way she tugged on his shirt cut off his words. “Just play along.”

They waited in line until it was their turn, then stepped up next to the guard with the thin moustache manning the gate. Thankfully, their clothing had dried enough so they didn’t look like they’d just crawled out of the Sound. Eve turned a charming smile the Moustache’s way and waited as he focused on her breasts, squeezing her biceps at her sides, Zane noticed, to push them out even more.

No way the guard would fall for that.

Moustache stared a moment too long and, realizing his mistake, looked up at Eve’s face with a scowl. “Stamp?”

“Oh, we didn’t get one.” Eve’s brow furrowed, and she looked toward Zane, then back at the guard. “Were we supposed to?”

“Only stamped passengers allowed back through the gate.”

“In all the chaos, someone must have forgotten to stamp our hands.” She nodded toward the parked automobiles without looking. “That’s our baby-blue Volkswagen.”

She rattled off the Oregon license plate number, then stepped close and gripped Zane’s bad arm, right above the makeshift bandage, rubbing that delectable breast against his skin in the process. Pain shot through his arm, followed by a heat that felt way too damn good.

“We drove up from Eugene yesterday. We’re on our honeymoon. Davey here already got us in a little fender bender and dented the back wheel well when we parked over at Lake Washington to go jet-skiing, and it’s going to cost a fortune to fix. We’d hate to get stuck here in Seattle when we have a beach rental waiting for us. We just went to get a drink while we waited for the ferry. Can’t you make an exception just this once?”

Moustache frowned, and when Eve let go of Zane and pushed her breasts out again, his gaze dropped to her cleavage once more.

Dumbass. A major bombing only miles away and this guy had boobs on the brain instead of his fucking job.

Eventually, Moustache looked from her to the other guard, then nodded for him to go check the vehicle.

The ancient VW bug was parked six cars in, hard to see among the other vehicles. The second guard jogged over to look, then came back and nodded at Moustache. “Looks like they hit a pole. License matches.”

Moustache eyed her again, from her flip-flops to her bare midriff and tied shirt, hovering a little too long on her breasts once more. After several seconds’ hesitation, he reached for a stamp from the window counter behind him. “Hold out your hands. And the next time you come through, make sure you get stamped before you leave, or you won’t be allowed back in.”

Eve smiled a sickly sweet grin. “Thank you so much. You totally just made our day. Right, Davey?”

Zane worked for a smile but knew it came out more as a scowl. If she didn’t let go of his arm, he was going to scream. And if that guy leered at her breasts once more, he was gonna pop the bastard in the nose.

Eve tugged Zane through the gate and finally let go of his arm. “See? Told ya.”

He wiped the sweat from his brow and followed her out onto the dock. “Your talents are staggering.”

She leaned back against the hood of the VW while they waited for the ferry. “Photographic memory comes in handy now and then. As you know.”

He did know. It was part of the whole spook gig. “What now? The real hippie owners are bound to show up at any time.”

“True, but we’re not staying here. We’re heading there.” She nodded toward a camper RV perched on the back of a beat-up truck in line four vehicles up. “And eventually, we’re going for that.” She pointed toward an ambulance parked two rows over. “I gotta get that arm of yours bandaged before infection sets in.”

Zane’s gaze drifted to the out-of-service ambulance, which looked like heaven to him. There had to be narcotics of some kind in there.

He glanced past the ambulance. Guards with bomb-sniffing dogs moved between vehicles. They waited until security moved past the ambulance, then wove through cars until they reached the back of the RV. Lights from above shone down over the pier in the early evening light. Far off in the distance, the approaching ferry grew bigger on the horizon. Luckily, the driver wasn’t in the cab yet, but they had only minutes before he or she returned.

Eve slinked around the back of the camper, reached up for the door handle, and whispered, “Yes!” Zane checked to make sure no one was watching, then climbed into the back after her and closed the door.

The camper was musty and dark. A bathroom closet gave way to a kitchen sink on the left. A too-tight table and bench seats sat to the right. Ahead and up three steps, a bed loomed above the canopy of the truck, and thick denim curtains covered the small windows.

Fatigue settled in as Zane eyed the messy comforter and mattress he knew couldn’t be comfortable but right now looked like an inviting cloud. He’d been awake going on twenty-four hours, fueled by revenge and adrenaline, and as light-headed as he felt, he knew the blood loss from the wound in his arm was catching up with him. He swayed on his feet.

Eve’s hand landed against his chest. “Whoa, big guy. Careful there. Archer? Are you okay?”

No, he wasn’t okay. Her hand felt way too damn good, even through the thin T-shirt. And he knew he was seriously losing it if he was reacting to her. He’d gotten over Evelyn Wolfe the day she’d turned her back on America. Had gotten way over her the day she’d set his team up in Guatemala. He was only with her now because he wanted answers. And then wanted to see her pay.

I work for the CIA. Counterterrorism.

Her words crept back into his brain, and with them, doubt. She’d been under the influence of amobarbital then. There was plenty of literature to say truth serums didn’t work, but amobarbital had a tendency to make people ramble even when they wanted to stop, which was why it was still used. That didn’t mean she’d been telling him the truth, though. She’d been trained in the same tactics he had. And she’d convincingly lied to him for months while they were in Beirut. She’d even gone so far as to screw him to keep him from finding out the truth. She knew how to beat the system. And yet . . .

As he stared down at her in the dim light coming through the thin curtains, he couldn’t stop hearing her voice in his head. The only words she’d said in that warehouse that had brought him to a stop.

I loved you, you son of a bitch! Why would I try to get you killed?

“Archer?” She looked up at him with those big amber eyes. Eyes that had drawn him in from the first. “What is it?”

He forced himself to look away. Tried to break the spell she was using to suck him under all over again. Failed because he still felt her hands on his chest and wanted—dammit—those hands everywhere. Even after everything she’d done.

“I . . . I need to sit down,” he managed. “I’ll be fine in a minute.”

She shifted so he could move past her to the bench, her body brushing his in the process, igniting heat all along his skin. He ground his teeth so he didn’t reach for her and focused on the pain lighting up his biceps and thigh. She bumped into the bathroom door and swore under her breath. The camper rocked.

“As soon as we get on the ferry and the coast is clear,” she said, rubbing her elbow, “I’ll get supplies from that ambulance.”

He didn’t care how she was going to do that; he just wanted some relief. And to get his head back in the game so he’d stop reacting to her. Stop thinking of her. Stop second-guessing himself like he was doing now.

“Archer? Did you hear me?”

He didn’t look at her, but when footsteps echoed outside the camper, his head came up, and he froze.

“All right,” a voice said. A male voice. Just beyond the camper door. “I know you’re in there. Open up.”

5

Eve froze with her hand against Zane’s shoulder and peered toward the door. Her heart rate jumped, and beneath her palm, Zane went still as stone.

“I said come out,” the male voice repeated. “I know you’re in there.”

Eve glanced quickly around the small camper. There was no other exit. The windows were too small to climb through, and in the middle of all these cars, they’d never escape without being seen.

“Fuck me,” Zane mouthed.

Perspiration dotted Eve’s forehead, and her adrenaline surged. She was not going down like this, minutes to freedom. She squeezed Zane’s shoulder.

“Payton,” the man said, “if I have to come in there after you, I won’t be smiling.”

Payton? Eve’s gaze darted to Zane. His confused expression mirrored her own. Muffled giggling echoed from the front of the truck, followed by heavy footsteps moving around the vehicle, then the cab door opening.

“I told you to stay with me,” the man said. “Don’t run off again, or I’ll put you down for a nap in the back of the camper.”

More giggling echoed from the front of the vehicle, followed by a small voice exclaiming, “I win at hide-and-seek!”

“I hate hide-and-seek,” the man mumbled. Then louder, “Move over, Freckles. The ferry’s about to load.”

The kid clapped wildly, then the car door slammed shut, and the truck roared to life.

Eve released the breath she’d been holding. When Zane moved over on the bench, Eve eased onto the seat next to him. Heat immediately enveloped her, followed by the sweet, masculine scent of his skin, and too late she realized she should have sat across from him, not beside him. But when he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, she glanced his way and was glad she’d sat where she had. He was pale, and blood from the wound in his shoulder was starting to seep through the T-shirt she’d snagged downtown. He looked like he could pass out at any moment.