He knew touching her was a bad idea. Don’t do it, he told himself. She is not a harmless female. Not this one.
He ignored his own warning and reached out, lightly fingering a lock of hair that had come loose from her braid.
She took a shuddering breath.
He dropped his hand. “I don’t like the idea of sending you in there alone.”
Her shoulders stiffened and all signs of her distress disappeared. “We’ve been through this already. I’m going into that room, end of discussion.”
“What discussion?” he muttered.
She flipped him a smug look. “Exactly.”
“Careful, Kerensky.” Jack jammed a hand through his hair. “You’re treading on razor-thin ice with me.”
She bared her teeth. “Good thing I’m light on my feet.”
“You’re a difficult woman.”
“So I’ve been told.” She cleared her expression and pointed ahead of her. “Look up there, on your right. The harbor.”
In the next instant, before he could stop her, she swung the car down a dark alley and cut the engine.
The night swallowed them, pitching the interior of the car into blinding darkness. A hot, nagging itch settled in his gut.
Unable to make out anything other than a heavy nothingness, Jack squinted into the eerie gloom. Still…nothing.
A sudden blast of anger left his nerves raw.
It was too dark. Too remote. Too isolated.
He’d allowed Kerensky to park the car facing toward the back of the alley. If an ambush awaited them, there would be no getting out alive. Very, very stupid.
He touched the panel in his sweater where he’d sewn a cyanide pill into the stitching. Trained to choose death over revealing secrets, Jack Anderson knew his duty. He’d seen men with stronger convictions break. He’d seen innocent men break, too. Jack would not join their ranks. Too many lives were at stake. The Nazis could never be allowed to get to the information he had stored in his head.
Suicide was the only solution. His own damnation was well worth the lives he would save with his permanent silence.
Tonight, however, there was a woman’s life at stake. He would make sure the choice between disclosure and death never happened. Jack would do what he must to ensure the cyanide pill made it through another mission unused.
“Turn the car facing out,” he said, his voice flat and hard.
“What?”
“Either do what I say, or I do it myself.”
“I…” She shifted in her seat, then sighed. “Of course. I wasn’t thinking.” Her voice held a slight shake, as though she’d stunned herself with her thoughtless behavior.
Another act? Or was she still upset over their conversation about her “heredity”? Upset enough to make a mistake in the admiral’s room, as well?
Before he could question her, she started the engine and put the car in gear. Jack stayed planted in his seat as she made quick work of the direction change.
Once she threw the brake, a thin bar of light from a nearby streetlight slid across the front of the car’s hood.
Better.
“Do you want to go over the hand signals one last time?” he asked, relief making his voice softer.
“No.” She cut the engine again, tapped her temple two times. “Got it all in here.”
Jack plucked the keys out of her hand before she could pocket them.
“What are you doing?” she growled.
Hardheaded, inflexible, full of pride. Did everything have to be a battle with her?
“You can’t carry these with you.” He jingled the keys in front of her nose. “Too much noise. And if you’re caught or hurt or any number of possibilities, I’ll need to be able to drive the car out of here.”
She opened her mouth to argue. Again.
He merely looked at her.
Her snort was quick and full of wounded pride. “It must be quite a burden, being perfect all the time.”
“You have no idea.”
“Humble, too.”
He ignored her goading. “Details are the most important aspect of any mission. Forget just one and a man or—” he gave her a meaningful look “—a woman will end up dead before there’s a chance to rethink the situation.”
“So you’re the detail man.” A statement, not a question.
Jack allowed himself a smile. “For better or worse, Kerensky, tonight we’re a team. You might as well accept it.”
And so should you, he told himself, as he tucked the keys underneath the driver’s seat. “Let’s go.”
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