Page 39 of Protecting You
Masterful.
“It would be one thing,” Alyssa said, “if I could do this job at my apartment. Then Caleb could come over. He could do his thing, I could do mine, and we could be together. But after last night, my apartment doesn’t feel safe. I never get this personal with clients, but I don’t know what else to do. Either you let me rebuild my setup at Caleb’s place, which I can probably do in a few days, or you let Caleb come with me to yours.”
Only the sound of breathing came from Ghazi’s end of the phone.
Callan considered what this would mean for himself and his family. He’d promised his parents and Peri that he wouldn’t go into the field again, which was why he’d transferred to work in the Boston office. Now he’d be going back on that promise, taking on a field assignment that might be innocuous.
It probably wouldn’t be dangerous.
But, it could be more dangerous than anything he’d ever done.
His parents had agreed to keep Peri until he could figure out his life, how to be a single father. But Dad hadn’t been feeling well the day before.
Maybe Hannah could take her for a few days. Not that his sister didn’t have anything better to do, but if she could handle the overnights, then Mom and Dad could keep Peri during the day.
They’d figure it out. Peri loved his parents and his sister, and they adored her.
Callan was the one who didn’t belong.
Alyssa lifted her gaze and met Callan’s. She still looked nervous, but she’d managed to turn that to her benefit.
Callan nodded, trying to tell her silently that she’d done well, no matter what happened next.
“All right,” Ghazi finally said. “Your fiancé can come. But I take security very seriously. Please, make it clear to him that he’s not to tell anybody where we are, and he’ll be limited to certain areas of the house.”
“I’ll tell him. He’s got work to do, so as long as he can bring his laptop?—”
“Fine, fine.”
“Good. Give me an address and?—”
“I will have somebody pick you both up. Can you be ready in an hour?”
Callan lifted two fingers, already snatching his phone.
“Can you make it two hours?” she asked.
“Two hours. And the address?”
“We’re at a hotel. Let me just look…”
Callan turned his screen for her to see. He’d found a nearby hotel, and she read the address.
“My driver will meet you there.” The phone beeped.
She checked the screen, then checked it again before tossing her cell onto the coffee table.
She collapsed onto the sofa.
“That was perfect.”
Studying him through squinted eyes, she asked, “But?”
But worry churned inside him. “I don’t love that we’re going to walk into the man’s lair.”
Her eyebrows hiked. “Lair? This isn’t a comic book.”
“You’re right. It’s not. And he’s no fictional villain. He’s a terrorist, and we’re about to let him take both of us.” Maybe for the reasons the man had said. But maybe not. “There’s nothing about this that feels good to me.”
