Hard to Trust (6 page)

The bags beneath her eyes let him know she hadn't slept or probably eaten in a while. No doubt she'd been charged up by caffeine in the interim. It was only a matter of time before she collapsed.

Being out in the open like they were, even in the middle of the morning—even given the propensity of New Yorkers to turn a blind eye to trouble—was not a good way to fly under the radar. After twenty minutes of this, he was losing patience. He waited until she had her back to an area that was near the grass to tackle her.

After rolling around for a few minutes fighting for control, he pinned her to the ground with his thighs straddling her torso. If not for the shelter of the surrounding bushes and the lack of onlookers, someone might have flagged down a police officer.

"All right. I'll come with you." She acquiesced with a snarl.

"Now, was that so hard?"

"Actually, it was." She gave him the evil eye as he helped her to her feet.

"We've got to hope there weren't sixteen cameras capturing that moment and putting us on
Good Morning America
or some other show.
Mystery man and woman wrestling in Central Park. Viewers help the police track them down.
"

"I forgot about the cameras."

"This place is wired, some spots more than others." He shook his head. "Let's get something to eat, and you can crash for a bit. It looks like you haven't slept in days."

"That's probably because I haven't had much sleep since Wednesday." She shrugged, signaling her defeat. "I'd go for days without sleep sometimes in the field, but this time I couldn't handle it."

"Nothing to be embarrassed about. After we figure this out, I won't stand in your way."

"You won't be the first man who's told me the same thing, then screwed me over, and not in a good way." With a cheeky smile, she trotted ahead of him.

Jake wasn't sure he had the ability to hang with a woman who had balls of steel for all that long.

*  *  *

Tessa couldn't think straight as he urged her down the street. She didn't know much about New York, but knew they were headed toward the Chelsea area, based on their direction. Even though he tried to hide his growing irritation, she could tell he was pissed, but she wasn't convinced it was directed at her.

She couldn't help but wonder if it was a personal problem—perhaps a fight with his girlfriend, or other such nonsense, that had him in such a snit. Then again, he didn't look like the girlfriend type. In fact, he looked more like the one-night-stand type, with his dark, sexy looks, highly toned physique, and boyish charm. Smooth moves never did work on her. She had to give him some credit for successfully capturing her without harming so much as a hair on her head. If it weren't for the nonstop ache in her shoulder, she'd be unscathed.

She shifted the backpack onto her good shoulder even while he kept a death grip on her arm. Based on this fiasco so far, she couldn't blame him for holding tight. "Could you let up on the arm, please?" She didn't think she had the energy for another attempt at running away, but couldn't dismiss the idea either, if given the opportunity.

"Not going to happen. Besides, we're almost to my place."

"Not unless you buy me dinner first." Her chuckle sounded a little maniacal. She must have gone stark raving mad because even to her own ears it sounded like she was flirting with him.

He barked out a laugh. "Strictly business. That's what I'm all about."

"So you say." She wanted to stop this silly banter, but found that her mouth wouldn't obey. Maybe, after being alone for so long since the incident, she'd latched on to him in some sick way as a port in the storm, even if the idea seemed ludicrous. Her mother had raised her to be independent rather than clingy, but the last several days had played havoc with her psyche. Maybe it was all due to sleep deprivation.

"Are you kidding? Like I'd even close my eyes with you staying at my place. Can we call a truce so that you don't go all
Krav Maga
on me again?"

"Why would I agree?" She had to give him points for his persistence.

"Because you want me to help you stay alive. Going it alone doesn't make sense. I have skills that might be helpful."

"How do you know I'm searching for something?"

"I suspect you've always been."

She hated the fact he knew her so well even though he'd only met her hours ago. True, she always felt like there was a missing piece to her life. She'd attributed it to being raised by a single mother and not knowing her father. But what was happening to her felt more personal than that. She'd been targeted for some reason. And it had to go back to her memories of Afghanistan or that stupid note she'd found.

What had started this firestorm of trouble? She didn't want to think it was because she'd used her landline to call Nick, but the trouble had escalated since then.

Now she had this contract-for-hire guy complicating her life even further. Knowing who and when to trust had always been a source of anxiety for her. She'd tended to take the easy route on that, and always choose to trust no one. It wasn't a bad way to live her life.

But with Jake—if that was his real name—she didn't seem to have a whole lot of choice in the matter.

Yep, it sure did suck to be her right now.

After fixing lunch, Jake spiked her coffee with some Tylenol PM. Even though she'd practically fallen asleep while eating, he couldn't trust her. Some lessons he had to learn the hard way, but maybe it had finally penetrated through his thick skull.

 He secured the state-of-the-art alarm at his place that kept people out and—in her case—some people in. Next, he made a phone call to Jennings. He needed to brief him, as well as figure out if he knew what those guys from yesterday were about. If Jake believed her and dismissed the potential for paranoia, it seemed like they might have been stalking her for a couple of days.

"I've got her at my place."

"This operation is so hush-hush they haven't even told me what happens when you retrieve her, other than expecting you to keep her safe." Jennings chuckled. "Maybe they didn't expect you to be successful so quickly."

"Success is a relative term in this case. Somebody's after her. They seem like CIA types, but she keeps babbling about the Russians. It's all very weird, and I'm not sure what to make of it yet." He mulled through the options, thinking out loud more than looking for input. "You sure the people who hired The Alliance were CIA?"

"They used their letterhead, and the check came from them, so that's my assumption."

"All I know is somebody's after her, and they're playing for keeps."

"Who knows? Maybe they're tied to whatever happened in Afghanistan. Has she told you anything about what went down there?"

"Are you kidding? I can barely keep her from kicking my butt."

Jennings chuckled. "I guess you're not using that Shaw charm you're so famous for."

"Either that or she's immune."

"That would be a first." Jennings cleared his throat. "Are you secure at your place?"

"For the time being, but I have no doubt those guys will come looking for us. They might not know who I am right now, but chances are it won't take them long to figure it out."

"What's your plan?"

"I need more information. I need to know who's involved before I can figure out what role she has in the whole thing."

"Where is she now?"

"In my spare room, passed out cold after a couple of days of sleep deprivation, with the aid of a Tylenol PM chaser. Yep, that's how I roll with enemy combatants."

"Okay, now you're exaggerating."

"I'm telling you, she seriously kicked my butt, or at least tried to. I'm secure enough to admit the woman has skills."

"All I know is they want her safe and hope you can dig up some information before they move on to the next step."

"What the hell does that mean? This is the frickin' CIA. It's not like they have scruples or anything."

"They're a client. I'm not privy to their reasons."

Jake could sniff out doublespeak a mile away, and Jennings was doing it right now. "They want her for something specific. Something she knows, or something they think she knows. They don't want to protect her. Whoever they are, she's fair game as far as they're concerned. I'd stake my life on that."

"Don't be foolish, Jake. From what I hear, she's good at sucking people in with her lies. She fooled even her best friend and ended up getting him killed."

He'd known this woman for less than twenty-four hellacious hours, but he still didn't think she was some sort of Mata Hari. She was vulnerable and scared and beautiful, which definitely put her in the running as premier candidate for a woman he was most likely to get fooled by.

"Jake, don't mess around with this. They told me in confidence they believe she might have killed two other agents on her last mission. From what I hear, neither one of them saw it coming."

"I've gotta go, Jennings. I'll check in with you later."

He peeked into the bedroom and found her sound asleep. For a minute or two he thought about chaining her to the bed to make sure she didn't run away while he slept. He was exhausted. But he didn't want to be naïve about the situation.

Failure wasn't an option. Maybe others who had brothers close in age, like him, suffered from the same malady. Being constantly compared to Max when he'd been under Petrovich's tutelage hadn't benefited him. For a while he and Max were distant, going months without talking, even though they'd been free of Petrovich's control for a long while. The competition between them had always been fierce, with Max winning most times. Not measuring up had always been the chip on Jake's shoulder he could never dislodge.

When he joined The Alliance, Jennings had asked with a hopeful look in his eye about Max. When Jake said that Max had decided on a different path, the disappointment was evident in Jenning's eyes. His older brother's skill set had been legendary, with Jake perpetually coming in a distant second in everything from marksmanship, to lock picking, to something as simple as a foot race.

Jake brushed off the feelings of inadequacy. Thinking about past mistakes was the last thing he needed right now. Instead, he used his thumbprint to activate the alarm system, just in case she woke up and got any brilliant ideas about striking off on her own.

A little bit of sleep would help keep him sharp. He had the distinct feeling he was going to need it.

*  *  *

Tessa yawned and moved around in the soft bed. For a minute or two she fantasized she was safe and sound at home, and everything had been a bad dream. When the traffic noise from below filtered through the window, she realized she wasn't in her home in Alexandria anymore.

Outside it had started to turn dark. She stumbled out of the bed and into the adjoining bathroom. From the cultured marble floor, to the steam shower, to the vessel sink everything about the room spoke of wealth. Based on the location of the apartment alone, she knew his gig at The Alliance paid well.

Glancing around the room, she spotted her backpack on the dark wood dresser and walked over to retrieve her laptop. She spotted the Post-it Note affixed to the zipper indicating his Wi-Fi password, and couldn't help but smile. The guy anticipated well. She'd give him that. Not that she could ever trust him, but at least he was attending to her creature comforts.

But she needed to know more about him to help her make up her mind about what to do next. While she'd never trust him totally, she had to know if he was going to be an asset or a liability.

If anybody could find more information, it would be she. Most databases had vulnerabilities, and she intended to dig until her curiosity was satisfied. She needed to find out more about Jake Shaw before she even thought about sticking around.

After about an hour, she hadn't found a thing besides the simplest of information. His name and address, as well as those of his siblings. Nothing about where he gained a skill set that qualified him to work for The Alliance, only that he and his siblings—Maxim (Max) and Sabrina—had immigrated to the US about eight years ago.

Holy crap. She'd been so distracted thinking about Jake she forgot about the logical assumption that whoever was after her could be after Nick as well. It might be a tenuous connection, but if it had something to do with Afghanistan it would stand to reason he'd be in danger, too.

Her hands shook as she texted Nick. She tapped on the phone and anxiously waited for a reply.
In Manhattan. How about if I come by? T.

Nothing.

She drew in a breath and tamped down the fear threatening to overtake her common sense. Knowing Nick, he might not be answering, choosing to ignore her. Last time they'd talked, he'd been pretty annoyed with her, so that was a possibility.

He didn't live far away. He'd be less likely to turn her down if he knew she was right in town. Assuming he wasn't dead.

She brushed down the thought as it surfaced. This was her problem, not his. But that didn't mean he wasn't touched by the same thing. Maybe she'd seen something she couldn't remember, but nobody knew she couldn't remember. Still, she knew something had happened. While the pieces didn't fit together yet, it lingered in the recesses of her mind. Her brain wouldn't kick-start the memory.

Nick was a product of the same CIA indoctrination. Maybe he could figure out this whole storm of trouble she was in.

Maybe she'd show him the message in person and deal with his dislike for her methods. But the memo mentioned Backgammon was back in the game. What did that mean? Were they setting up a sting using Alex's former contacts? She mulled that possibility around her head. But would that information be worth killing her over? Even though Nick had acted like a total dweeb when she'd talked to him the other night, she had more trust in him than she did Jake, a perfect stranger. But Nick wasn't responding to her message.

She chewed on the nail of her index finger and tried to keep the surge of paranoia at bay. Patience had never been one of her strong points. The Farm had been intense and kept the three of them on their toes, never knowing whom to and whom not to trust. She didn't understand it at the time, but later figured out they'd prepared her well for a life filled with uncertainty and watching her own back. Of course, that fed into her paranoia perfectly.