that cut him to the quick—and then slipped into the bathroom and closed the door.
Fuck.
Keeping an eye on the door, he rose from the bed and slipped over to the chair where she’d dropped her purse. With quick, practiced moves, he riffled through it. The first thing he found was her wallet. He flipped it open and checked her driver’s license. California. Yeah, he’d expected that.
Her name wasn’t Candy—he’d expected that too, but it still made something coil in his gut—it was Veronica Banks. He quickly memorized her address and flicked through the plastic sleeve holding her credit cards. His attention stalled on the picture of a girl in a wheelchair, grinning from ear to ear, next to an enormous and famous mouse with a castle in the background. He filed that away for future reference and then dropped the wallet into her purse and pulled out her phone.
It was not password protected. That was heartening. What hard-boiled reporter didn’t password protect a phone?
But his hope was dashed pretty quickly when he checked her most recent texts. They were all from some guy named Marcus, and all pretty incriminating, demanding updates on her search. He quickly flicked up to the first message in the string and his gut clenched.
Fuck.
That was it.
Undeniable.
Assignment: Investigate secret military black-ops team operating out of Dallas, TX. Top priority.
The message went on to describe the “high-level ex-military operatives” who had been spotted, and his gut clenched. With a description like that, there could be no doubt. He and Merc had been recognized.
How the hell had that happened?
Shit. Steele was going to have a shit fit.
Sterling scanned the following messages, hoping to get some sense of how much she knew, but they were mostly demands for information from Marcus, and Veronica’s insistence that she was working on it. There was one message that seemed oddly out of place.
When can I see her?
See whom?
The response was clipped and short.
When you’re done.
Sterling sucked in a deep breath and steadied himself. Yeah, it was incontrovertible evidence that she was, indeed, investigating the team. As much as it pained him to do it, he knew he had no choice. Chrome had been adamant on the matter.
If she was a reporter—and she was—he had only one choice.
He was going to have to take her in.
There would be an interrogation—his blood went cold at that thought—and then, if they decided she was a threat to the team…
Stirling raked his fingers through his hair. He didn’t want to think about that. Not now. Not after what they’d just shared.
He’d obeyed every order he’d ever received. How much would it scald him if he was ordered to hurt this woman—a woman he suspected was everything he’d always wanted and more? Could he comply with an order to make her disappear…forever?
Chapter Four
Roni gazed at herself in the mirror, struck with the surreal sensation that she was looking at a stranger. Who was that woman with the soft features, the dreamy eyes? The pouty, bee-stung lips? This wasn’t who she was. Wasn’t who she’d always been.
Since her mother had died, since her world had fallen apart, she’d been nothing but hard. Hard-edged, hard-boiled, hard-hearted.
She’d made it an art form, pushing people away, keeping her life empty and cold. Refusing to give Marcus any more weapons to use against her. Because hell, he had the only thing that ever meant anything to her. The only person she cared about. Annabelle was in his clutches. Roni couldn’t afford to give him anything else.
For so long she’d walked alone and been perfectly happy to do it—except in the dark coils of night when she ached for something, when she ached for more. But she’d been strong. She’d denied every urge. Rebuffed every need. All in the hopes of getting Anabelle back.
She’d hardened herself to the brash reality that she was alone and she always would be. She’d convinced herself that no man was worth the cost of losing this, the most important battle.
And now this. Now this incredible man had swooped into her life and made her question everything. Made her want. Made her need. And worse, fulfilled her. It was a horrible feeling, knowing that everything she’d believed was a lie.
She wasn’t hard. Not at all.
Oh, she had been, on the outside. But he had cracked the shell.
It nearly killed her to admit it, but he had—in the short amount of time they’d known each other—crawled into her heart and nested there. Oh, it wasn’t love or anything ridiculous