The key was getting him someplace he could get off his feet. He still had his wallet, and she hoped he had enough cash for a motel room, because she didn’t want to risk using a credit card, even if it was his.

Grabbing a bottle of erythromycin tablets, she rounded the end aisle and headed in his direction. A bell above the door jangled, and a rumpled woman in her midfifties with salt-and-pepper hair rushed in and headed for the front counter.

“Mabel,” the sixty-something man behind the counter said, looking away from the wall-mounted TV where coverage of the explosion in downtown Seattle was replaying. “Are you okay? You weren’t in the city today, were you?”

Mabel waved a finely manicured hand. “Nothing like that. Just frustrated. This mess in Seattle is already eating into my business. I just had a cancellation on the Walker Road home. They’re shutting the ferry system down tonight, and the renters have decided it’s too much of a hassle to drive all the way down to Tacoma then up and around for their vacation.” She sighed. “I hate these damn terrorists. First Boston and now us.”

“Sorry to hear that,” the clerk said. “Tourism here’s gonna take a big hit because of this.”

Mabel frowned. “Any update on the victims?”

“No.” The clerk crossed his sun-freckled arms and looked back at the screen. “Fifteen so far sent to the hospital. But they’re not listing fatalities yet. Supposed to have a press conference at nine.”

“Such a bad day.” Mabel sighed again. “I need a couple bags of Pro Plan for Millicent. That dog is going to put me in the poorhouse, I swear.”

Eve’s stomach clenched, and she tuned out the conversation, not wanting to hear too many details about the bombing. If she did, she’d get lost in them and forget what she needed to do next. And right now all she could focus on was getting Zane settled, then disappearing and calling her department chief at Langley to let him know what she’d seen this afternoon.

She paused at the end of the aisle and had a memory flash. Of sitting in that outdoor café in the city, of her contact looking familiar and smug and victorious. Of a cell phone he’d passed to her, the image on the screen . . .

The image on the screen of what?

Her brow furrowed, and she tried to remember what he’d shown her, but she couldn’t. The only other thing she remembered was the explosion that had knocked her off her feet and sent her sailing. Then waking up to Zane’s familiar voice.

“You look about as pale as I feel,” Zane muttered.

His words snapped her out of her trance, and she shook off the strange feeling trying to suck her under. “Just tired. Some asshole drugged me earlier.” When he glanced her way with a raised brow, she straightened her spine and sighed. “Look, I’ve got a bead on a place we can rest.”

“I don’t need rest.” He grasped a bag of zip ties from the shelf.

She eyed the bag in his hand, then plucked it out of his grip and set it back on the shelf. “Don’t even think about it, Archer. And if you don’t want to rest, fine. I will. You can continue to be a jackass. It’s a vacation rental that’s not being used.”

“How did you come by this info?”

She pointed over her shoulder with her thumb. “That woman’s a rental agent. She’s bitching about the status of her business, thanks to what happened in Seattle.” When he glanced toward the counter and didn’t say anything, Eve added, “Look, whatever you plan to do with me can wait until we both have a chance to regroup. Carter will still be there in the morning, and odds are he’s so busy with fallout from the bombing right now, you won’t be able to get through to him anyway.”

He stared at her, and in his dark eyes, she couldn’t read his thoughts. Did he believe her? Did he think she was lying? Or did he not really plan to turn her over to Carter like he’d said?

Unease filtered through her stomach. The dark Archer, the one who wanted revenge, who’d tied her to that chair and slowly cut away her clothing, was still in there. She could see it in the flash of distrust in his eyes. But the one she remembered, the one who’d freed her when they’d been found, who’d been worried about her safety on that roof, who’d made love to her so slowly and thoroughly in Beirut, was also in there. And he was the one she needed to draw out if she planned to get away from him with no drama.

“Where?” he asked in a low voice.

Victory pulsed in her veins. “I’m not sure. But it can’t be far. I know the street name. We just need to find a pay phone and look at a map.”

He glanced at the bottle in her hand. “You’re not planning to poison me, are you?”

“Only if my luck’s improved.” He frowned, and she felt her spirits lifting. “Relax, Sawyer. Fish diseases are treated with human antibiotics. The only thing they lack is a prescription.”

“Running an aquarium these last few years between leaking national security secrets?”

“No, I read it in a book.” She checked her temper. He obviously hadn’t reconsidered his first opinion of her, though why she thought he might left her feeling like an idiot. “A hot and steamy Joan Swan novel. You should try one. You might learn a thing or two about women by reading romance novels.”

She turned for the counter, and he snorted at her back like he didn’t agree. “Romance was never my problem. Trust? Yeah. Thanks to you.”

He was right. Romance had definitely never been his problem. When Zane Archer turned on the loving, he could make a woman go weak at the knees. Thank God she wasn’t in any danger of having that happen.

“Don’t get any smart ideas about running,” he mumbled at her back.

Eve tamped down the urge to show him just what kind of smart ideas she really had. God, he was a jackass. She shouldn’t be helping him. What the hell was she doing? Then, from the corner of her eye, she noticed his limp.

He masked it well, but she could tell his leg was bugging him. Her mind flicked back to the empty syringe she’d found on the table in the back of the RV. He was supposed to be looking for antibiotics in the back of that ambulance, not narcotics, but when she’d first seen the syringe, she’d assumed he’d snagged it for his shoulder. Now she rethought that assessment and wondered if it was really his leg that was causing the most pain. A stab of guilt rushed through her when she thought of him injured in that raid in Guatemala.

She forced back the “if only” closing in. Her whole life was a combination of “if only” this and “if only” that. If only she’d convinced Sam not to get on that plane . . . If only her life hadn’t been flipped upside down because of that night . . . If only she hadn’t been assigned to that house in Beirut . . . If only she hadn’t met Zane . . .

She shook off the thoughts as she waited next to Zane and he paid for their items. She’d learned long ago that playing the “if only” game did no good. All it would do was leave her wishing for a past she couldn’t change, and she needed to keep her wits about her if she planned to get away before she put Zane’s life in more danger.

Darkness had settled in by the time they stepped out of the pet shop. Spotting a pay phone, Eve pushed down her excitement so it wouldn’t show. For the first time in hours, she had hope that things were finally going her way.

She grasped Zane’s sleeve, tugging him after her. Once they got to Walker Road, she’d be home free.

At least she hoped she would be.


NO SERVICE.

Zane frowned at his cell phone, then powered it off. He’d been surprised when it had popped on, but little good it did him without a signal.

He shoved the phone in his pocket and glanced toward Eve, busy at work on the back-door lock of the rental house. Finding the place hadn’t been easy, but since it was the only dark house on the street, they’d decided this had to be it. And honestly, even if it wasn’t, he didn’t care. He wanted off his feet for a few hours. After he’d rested, then he’d figure out what to do next.

He watched Eve work the lock and frowned. “Where the hell did you get a screwdriver?”

“From the RV. I found it when you were sleeping. Snagged it just in case.”

“Just in case you needed a weapon to jam through my carotid artery?”

She smiled in the dim light. “Something like that. I think I almost have it.”

A click echoed through the quiet air, and then the door popped open with a groan.

“Got it,” Eve said in a victorious voice.

Moonlight reflected off the peaceful water of Puget Sound, and off in the distance, the lights of Seattle lit up the sky, but all Zane could see was Eve. The set of her determined chin, the lock of hair falling over her cheek, the way her whole face lit up when she smiled. And the longer he stared at her, the stronger the buzzing in his head grew, telling him he needed to park it for a few hours before he did something really insane. Like tie her to another chair so she’d stop fucking with his mind. Or kiss her until she fucked with something else.

Turning his back on the view, he followed Eve into the one-level home. The kitchen was dark, but he could just make out a long island, a small breakfast nook, and to his left, a great room filled with plush furnishings.

Relief filtered through his veins. Three hours of shut-eye. That’s all he needed. Just enough time to regroup.

Eve moved to the refrigerator and pulled it open. Light spilled over her, highlighting her long, shapely bare legs, the soft line of her jaw, and her tousled hair, framing her face like a halo. She frowned. “Nothing. We should have grabbed food in town. I can head back and find something for us to ea—”

Zane closed the refrigerator door with a snap. “No food. I just need sleep.” He grasped her arm at the wrist and pulled her along behind him. “Come on.”