Delta Force Defender

“Wait.” He cinched her wrist with his fingers. “What are you going to write back?”

“I’m going to write ‘Hell, yes.’ What do you think?”

“Shouldn’t you ask him what he means? Ask him what he wants? That’s what he’d expect out of you. If you agree too quickly, he’s going to wonder if he picked the right person for the job.”

His thumb pressed against her pulse. Could he feel it throbbing with excitement? She couldn’t tell if the buzz claiming her body was coming from the email or Cam’s warm touch. Did it matter? The two had mingled in her scattered brain.

Rotating her wrist out of his grasp, she said, “You’re right. I’ll take it slowly.”

She voiced the words as she replied to the email. “‘Play what? What do you want? Who are you?’”

She clicked Send and held her breath.

Her heart stuttered when the quick reply came through. She clicked on the email and read it aloud to Cam. “‘I’m a patriot.’”

Cam snorted and she continued. “‘I’m a patriot. That’s all you need to know. You did the right thing. Leave it alone, or you might not like the game.’”

She whipped her head around to face Cam. “He’s threatening me.”

This time her hands trembled as she held them poised over the keyboard.

Lacing his fingers through hers, Cam pulled her hand away from the computer. “Ask this patriot why he’s so nervous if the information he revealed in the emails about Major Denver is true.”

“Shouldn’t I ask him about his threats? If he’s the one who pushed me at the Metro?” She untwined her fingers from his.

“He’s not going to give you a direct answer or admit that he tried to harm you, but I’m interested to see his lies about why he wants you to stop digging.”

“I haven’t even started digging.” She puffed at a strand of hair that had floated across her face, and Cam caught it and tucked it behind her ear.

“He knows you saved the emails and shared them with me.” He flicked his finger at the Post-its. “And he knows you’re on to him.”

“If you say so.” As long as he kept finding excuses to touch her, she’d do just about anything he asked. She cleared her throat and her mind, and then typed in Cam’s question.

They both jumped when a message showed up in her inbox, but it was an ad for ink cartridges.

“Come on, patriot.” She flexed her fingers over the keys. “I think we scared him off.”

“Or he’s thinking up a good story.” Cam stretched his arms over his head before standing up. “I’m going to get more water. Do you want something from the kitchen?”

“No, thanks.” She wedged the toes of her boots against the coffee table. “We lost him.”

“Do you think my question was too direct?” He called back at her over the running water from the kitchen faucet. “We must’ve hit a nerve. He wants you to stop because he doesn’t want the truth revealed—that the claims in those emails were all bogus.”

Instead of an answer, grinning skulls danced across her screen, giving her the chills. “Ugh. He really is just playing games.”

Cam returned to the living room and hung over the back of the sofa. “Idiot. I don’t think he plans to tell you anything. He does want you to stop snooping though, and he’s trying to scare you off.”

“All the more reason to continue.” She rolled her shoulders in an effort to release the tension bunching her muscles. “Maybe I should turn all this stuff over to the CIA.”

“Martha, you committed a crime by making a copy of those emails. Even if you’re not prosecuted, you’ll lose your job.” He reached past her and closed the lid of her laptop on the skulls. “It’s not worth it. Do you want to wind up in federal prison?”

“No!” She dumped her computer from her lap to the sofa cushion. “You’re right. I’m not telling the CIA a thing.”

He drew back at the violence of her exclamation, but she didn’t have to explain herself as the key turned in the door.

“Casey’s home early.” Her eyes wide, Martha watched the door handle turn and released a sigh when Casey crept into the room on tiptoes.

“Oh, you’re still up...and you’re still here.”

The reason for Casey’s dismay followed her into the room wearing an expensive suit and a sheepish grin. “Sorry to intrude.”

“Join the party.” Cam spread out his arms and then dropped them to his sides as his invitation was met with silence. “Just kidding. We were just wrapping up.”

“Take your time.” Casey circled one finger in the air. “Bob and I will be upstairs. Bob, this is my roommate Martha and her friend Cam.”

They all managed awkward hellos and goodbyes as Casey led Bob up the stairs of the town house.

When she heard the door click above, Martha made a face. “She usually doesn’t bring them home this early. I never have to meet them.”

Cam whistled. “I can see why she doesn’t.”

“Why?”

Jerking his thumb at the ceiling, Cam whispered. “Old Bob up there is Congressman Robert Wentworth from some district down in Florida.”

“What? Are you serious? How do you know that?”

“He’s on the House Intelligence Committee—and he’s married, as far as I remember.”

“That makes it doubly worse that they’re up there...” She waved a hand toward the staircase and heated up to the roots of her hair. “Why do women go for these married men?”

Martha flicked a glance at Cam’s bare left ring finger and let out a little breath. Of course, lots of men didn’t wear wedding rings.

“Imprudent of him at the very least.” Cam leaned forward and lifted the laptop lid. “Still no communication from the patriot, so I’m going to head back to my hotel. Are you going to be okay?”

“I will be once I power down my computer and stick it in the office tonight.”

“How many rooms does this place have?” He raised his eyes to the ceiling.

“Just three bedrooms. I could sublet the other room, but I’d probably go crazy with another roommate.” She tucked the laptop under her arm. “Should I...should I call you tomorrow or something?”

“I’ll go with you to cleanse your computer. Is that okay?”

More than okay. “Sure.”

Cam strode to the kitchen and ripped a Post-it from the pad. He scribbled something on the pink square and then stuck it to the edge of the counter. “My number. Call me when you’re ready to roll.”

He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and hunched into it. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you to lock your door.”