Page 7 of Protecting You
He wasn’t sorry to be getting out of that rat’s nest.
It was twilight in Boston, the sun low behind the old brownstones that lined Newbury Street, filled with upscale shops and restaurants that catered to the wealthy or wealthy-wannabes. The temperature had dipped to the fifties, though the day had been clear and unseasonably warm for April.
Sidewalk café tables that had been surrounded by diners earlier were deserted as people headed for home, zipping their jackets against the evening chill.
He took Alyssa’s hand and set a meandering pace.
She blew out an audible breath. He could feel her desire to speed up and squeezed her hand. “We’re in no hurry, darling. Let’s just enjoy the evening air.”
“I say we go to my apartment,sweetheart.” That last word sounded more like an epithet than a term of endearment, uttered with enough saccharine to cause cancer.
He leaned close and whispered, “Are we headed in the right direction?”
“You don’t already know where I live? I’m shocked.”
“I’m just not that into you.”
She jerked back, but he wasn’t letting her go. He was having way too much fun.
He’d need to repent of the lie later. Though he really didn’t know where she lived. He was an admirer, not a stalker.
“Lead the way, beautiful. I’ll follow you anywhere.”
“Whatever it is you think we’re doing, I’m not playing along. You need to explain yourself.”
He bumped her shoulder as if they were teasing. “Just trying to help. You’re welcome.”
“I’m definitely notthankingyou.”
“You should be.”
A couple of middle-aged women stepped out of a shop and turned toward them on the sidewalk. Alyssa angled toward him to let them pass.
He slid his arm around her, pulling her against his side.
“Charles is a client.” She tugged away, but Callan held on. “An entrepreneur.”
“Fine. Maybe I was jealous.” Lowering his voice, he added, “There’s no telling who’s listening.”
She made a show of watching traffic pass on the busy street. City noises were loud, but what kind of technology was being employed to eavesdrop on them?
“I’ve been working with Charles Sanders for months.”
Callan slowed to look at her. “You’ve met him before?”
“This was the first time we met in person, but yeah, I’ve done jobs for him all year. He’s never asked me to do anything suspicious or illegal. I’ve made those boundaries clear with all my clients, and I reiterated that tonight.”
Funny that she’d felt the need to mention her boundaries to the so-called Charles Sanders—and to Callan. That told him she wasn’t as certain as she was trying to make it sound that the man was aboveboard.
“You’ll need to tell me all about those jobs.”
“That’s between me and my client.”
Not for long, but he didn’t argue. “What did he hire you to do tonight?” He made the question conversational, the kind of thing a fiancé would ask.
“He wants me to find a name for him.”
“Who?”
