Code Name: Ghost - Sawyer Bennett Page 0,15

famous brothers. “Yeah… Max and Lucas both play for the Cold Fury.”

Her head tilts. “Did you play hockey, too?”

“I did. Both Max and Lucas will tell you that I could have gone pro, too, but it just wasn’t my passion. I wanted to join the Marines, and nothing could sway me from that.”

“A French-Canadian kid who wanted to join the U.S. military. Interesting.”

“It’s in my blood. My grandfather was a Marine, and I loved hearing his stories growing up.”

We continue to talk in the same vein, all background information. She prods into my personal life and about whether I’ve had any serious romantic relationships in the past. That was a negative answer, not because I’m averse, but more of a timing issue. In that I never seemed to have time. Between working Special Forces in the Marines, and now with Jameson, it’s been a bit hard to even date someone seriously. Not to mention the whole being-held-in-captivity-for-five-months thing.

And to my surprise, the hour is over before I even realize it. I’m shocked at how fast the time went by. I had assumed every minute of this meeting would be torture, but, to the contrary, it was easy talking to her.

I knew what was to come wouldn’t be so easy.

Before Corinne ushers me out, we move to the calendar on her desk to make the next appointment. I wanted to come again tomorrow, because if I had to complete “therapy” before returning to active duty with the company, I wanted to get it knocked out.

“I’m good anytime tomorrow,” I say.

She bends over her calendar—one of those flipbooks, surprising me that she’s not digital—and smirks. “How about Monday?”

Frowning, I point out, “But that’s four days away.”

“Correct,” she replies as she glances up. “There’s a thing called a weekend. When I took this job with Kynan, I told him I absolutely won’t work weekends.”

“But what about tomorrow… Friday?” I press.

Corinne straightens, inclines her head in an understanding way, even as she lays down the boundaries that will keep me on a slower track. “You need time in between sessions to process and decompress.”

Muffling a growl of frustration, I nod down to her book. “What time Monday?”

“Eight?” she inquires.

“Fine,” I grumble.

Apparently, this amuses her because she laughs. “Have patience, Malik. This is the best for you. And who knows, if you come into this with complete honesty and transparency, I could cut you loose pretty quickly.”

Easier said than done. I know damn well she’ll want me to confront the feelings of guilt I have, but to do that implies I’m not cut out for this type of work to some extent, which isn’t acceptable to me. Perhaps I can do a good job of convincing her that I’m fine, though.

Corinne pencils me into a slot, then walks me to the door. Her hand comes to my shoulder to stop me from walking out. I’m forced to turn to her. “You may not believe me now, but I actually think you and I are going to do just fine together. You’ll be back out in the field in no time at all.”

God, I fucking hope so.

I give her a nod, manage a gung-ho smile, and exit through the glass door.

“Hey, Malik,” I hear, instantly recognizing Anna Tate’s voice. I turn to see her coming off the freight elevator, carrying a somewhat largish box that doesn’t seem to be weighing her down, but still seems awkward. She’s wearing a slim tweed skirt in a brown color, a cream sweater that fits her frame all too well, and high-heeled leather boots. Her golden hair is falling in loose waves around her shoulders. She looks fashionable and young with her entire life ahead of her. She doesn’t seem like a widow at all. Instead, she appears to be a beautiful woman in the prime of her happy life.

Without thought, because it’s how I was raised, I move quickly to take the box from her arms. For a moment, she doesn’t let it go, and our eyes connect.

“I have this,” she insists, giving it a little tug.

“Is it top secret?” I ask, not releasing my hold.

“No,” she replies with a frown.

“Then let me carry it for you.” I tug it out of her grasp, trying to ignore her worried expression as it becomes clear she’s not sure I’m physically able to carry the box.

I actually find that adorable and touching at the same time.

“Got most of my strength back,” I offer, and she blushes. “I mean… I’m not able