Tate drummed his thumbs on his blue-jeaned thighs. “Do you get that your life’s in danger?”
“And do you get that I don’t trust you?” It would wound him, but Meghan really didn’t care right now. He’d been a part of a team trying to kidnap her today. He’d lied. He’d let her grieve. And she had grieved for every single moment they could have had if she hadn’t been too scared to face her feelings. It had been pain the likes of which she’d never known before, and the healing had never fully come. Now he was back? There was no way she was letting him off easy.
He winced and stared across the yard. After a minute, he pinched the bridge of his nose, then glanced at his watch. “Long story.” The deep pain in the lines around his mouth made Meghan want to find a way to make it better, to take away the hurt.
Fine. She’d let him off the hook...for now. “Then explain why you tried to kidnap me. You’re the one who started this mess.”
“Believe me—I was as surprised to see you as you were to see me.”
“Doubtful. I’ve never been dead.”
“Fair enough.” Tate pushed himself up from his perch on the stairs and walked to his pickup; the distance between them opened like a canyon. “I can tell you it’s a cyberterror threat. And why you? No idea. I’ve been on this op a long time, and the threat’s not from anyone we’ve dealt with in the past.”
Had someone found out who she was, her talent for hacking systems and ferreting out information necessary to eliminate the bad guys? Had they found out she hadn’t always used her talent for good—something Tate wouldn’t know?
She followed close at his heels, needing to know what was happening. Needing to know if her past was bleeding into Tate’s present. “I need more.”
“You won’t get it. You left the unit. When you did, you let go of the right to be involved in an active investigation.” His demeanor was cold business, his voice tight. “Aside from Isaac’s crew, you’re the sole link I have to a hacker with an endgame your worst nightmares can’t fathom. You’re an asset, not my partner. Get used to it.”
* * *
He’d gone too far. Tate saw it as her jaw tightened and her eyes took on a different sheen, as though she’d drawn the curtains so he couldn’t see in. Maybe it was the wrong thing to say, but nothing had been right since he’d come face-to-face with her earlier in the afternoon.
No, it had been wrong for a whole lot longer than that. When she left the army and dissolved their team without explanation, she cut him clean through, marked him in a way his physical scars never had. After the way his mouth had just gotten away from him, there was obviously some latent anger stirring inside. He reached for Meghan but hesitated before he touched her, wanting to force her to look at him, but he knew better. She’d take a long time to thaw now that he’d wounded her.
Still, he had to try. “That came out harsh, but you have to understand. Information’s classified unless I can prove you need to know. This mission has been ongoing, but the whole game changed when you got involved. Now I have to find a way to protect you while maintaining my cover. Chances are high you’ve seen the hacker we’re after, and you might even know him. You’re a more valuable asset than you realize, and I have to—”
“How would I have seen whoever it is you’re after?” She squared her shoulders, ready to fight. Ready to fight him. But something besides anger lurked in her posture. If it had been anyone but Meghan, Tate would have called it fear. “I can take care of myself. I have the same training as you. All I need to know is who’s after me and why.”
How had it come to this? He’d taught her nearly everything he knew about defending oneself, while she’d taught him how to locate a hack buried in a system. They’d worked well, had been a team others envied. Now here they stood, toe-to-toe and worlds apart. Everything about it felt wrong.
“I don’t know why. I was hoping you did. And you have no idea what you’re dealing with.” Tate dragged his hand down his face, scraping against a full day’s worth of stubble. “This is not some ordinary hacker. This guy—” He stared at the trees weaving gently in the light breeze, his jaw working back and forth as he chewed on his next words. So much was classified, and he wasn’t used to having to censor himself around Meghan.
She eased closer to the truck, keeping the dented red hood between them. “What?”
He drummed the chipped metal hood, weighing how much he could trust her. Old habits and their former closeness pushed the whole story forward, but there he couldn’t overstep forces above his pay grade and beyond his control. “This is potentially the biggest threat to national security we’ve encountered since the unit was put together.” He dropped his gaze to her, bracing for the anger about to be unleashed in his direction. “I can’t tell you more, not without authorization.”
Sure enough, Meghan drew away, her face tightening. She smacked the truck’s hood, the dull metallic echo bouncing off the trees. “There’s an order out on me, and you don’t want to tell me why?”
Her voice was shrill, but she had to know this wasn’t personal. National security trumped all. When ops were classified, “trust no one” kicked in.
Still it had to hurt to be on the outside of this. It hurt him to be the one to shut the door on her. His former partner...his former best friend.
Tate pinched his lips together, the action radiating pain into his jaw. If he wasn’t careful, she might throw a punch of her own volition. He focused on the woods behind her, trying to distance himself. She wasn’t his partner. She was an asset. A woman with a secret he needed to uncover if he wanted to apprehend a hacker who had twice come close to causing mass chaos. Working this op meant keeping Meghan at a distance, no matter how much it hurt. “I need my phone. And my gun.”
She flinched, the action so quick only someone who knew her would notice. Pulling the phone from her pocket, Meghan slid it across the hood with a little too much force, then pivoted on one heel and stalked up the porch steps, shaking the entire structure with the force of her anger.
Tate watched her go, thoughts too spun around to do much else. Captain Meghan McGuire. He’d been dead certain he’d never see his former partner again. When he’d hauled her to her feet today and caught sight of those brown eyes the color of Turkish coffee, he’d nearly dropped his cover story in shock.
For four long years, he’d let her believe the story the army had told her. That he was dead, killed in the attack that actually had nearly put him in the grave. Playing dead allowed him to do his job, working in the shadows for an elite military unit tasked with shutting down cyberthreats to the United States and its allies. Still, somewhere in the intervening years, he’d lost count of the number of times he’d wanted to reconnect with her, to find the easy camaraderie that had gotten him through many hard times in the past.
She didn’t know he’d missed her, and if what he knew of Meghan’s less-than-carefree childhood was any indication, she probably viewed his faked death and years of silence as the ultimate betrayal. If she’d done the same to him, he’d be the one demanding answers and working to douse anger. He owed her the real story. Soon. But not until he figured out why she was in danger.
Tate stretched his neck and unlocked his phone, forcing his thoughts into the game. He’d lost ground today, “letting” Meghan get away.
The growing bruise spreading across his cheek had bought him some sympathy...and some nasty ribbing from a bunch of punks who couldn’t believe he’d let a girl get the best of him. At least they’d bought it.
Isaac had been red-faced, screaming furious when he’d discovered Meghan had eluded them, but after a phone call to report Tate’s failure to “the boss,” he’d given the group a knowing