unless the vibrating continued. Everyone knew that meant an emergency.
Eric’s thumb rubbed her bottom lip, and she realized she’d been biting it. “Tell me what.”
“What?” They’d been married nearly sixteen years. At this point, it was unlikely he’d be unable to tell something was wrong. Even though he worked long hours—and sometimes didn’t come home for days or weeks on end—they were solid.
Except for the fact she’d been essentially lying to him for years.
Eric shifted. “I’ve broken criminals tougher than you. I’m sure I can get it out of you.”
Millie frowned at him.
He smiled. “Or you can just tell me.”
Before she could figure out what to say, the phone rang again. Eric rolled away from her and sat up. “You should take that. Probably someone calling about their tax return.”
She heard something in his tone. His expression indicated he knew that was a lie. But how could he possibly know that the accountant’s office had nothing to do with any of them being CPAs?
She looked at her phone. “It’s Bridget.”
Her employee—and friend—had called once and sent half a dozen texts. Millie shot to her feet. She choked back a gasp.
“What is it? The boys?”
Millie shook her head. “He’s coming here.”
“Mill—”
She cut him off. “Get dressed and get your gun.” She started for the bathroom, but turned back. “Did you bring a vest?”
“You think I carry protective gear to a remote cabin where I’m going on vacation?”
Maybe not. “We can look. Victoria might have something stashed around here.”
“Millie—”
The window exploded.
Both of them dove for the floor. Millie winced. That was not good. The last thing she should be doing is jumping around, or landing wrong.
She crawled to the end of the bed where she’d left her suitcase. Beyond it, Eric moved to his own and snatched out his jeans.
When they’d met, Millie had been working the front desk at her brother Tate’s private investigation business. She’d only been home to recover from an injury she got on her last mission for her employer.
The CIA.
After meeting Eric, she’d quit but still wanted to do something worthwhile. So she’d started the company she now ran.
“You wanna tell me who is shooting at us?” Eric shifted his hips and buttoned his jeans. Of course, he also caught her staring at him. “I’m not getting killed in my underwear. I’ll never live it down.”
“That’s not…”
“Then what?”
She shouldn’t be distracted, but he… “I’m just looking at my husband. It’s not a crime.”
He blinked. “Did you bring a gun? Because someone is shooting at us.”
Millie grabbed her phone. She’d dropped it when the window was shot out. Now it was shattered.
She tossed it aside and moved to her suitcase, pulling a protective vest out so she could roll on the floor and get it on. She didn’t dare sit up. Not if Clarke was looking through the window—down a sniper scope.
“You brought a vest?”
Millie hesitated a second, even though there wasn’t time. “I need to tell you something.”
“It will have to wait.” He checked his weapon, readying it. To protect his family.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Being here.”
Eric shook his head. “Where else would I be?”
Millie pulled on a pair of loose sweats she’d brought with her for lounging, then dug out her gun. Shoes. She needed shoes.
“Who is outside?”
“Clarke.”
“Your employee is shooting at us. Why?”
Millie studied the window on her side of the bed. Then the one on Eric’s—the one he had shot out. “My guess? He’s trying to kill you.”
“Jealous rage?”
Millie’s stomach rolled. She nearly puked on the rug under the bed. For the first time in a long time, she decided it was best to just tell the truth to her husband. So she rolled to her back and started talking.
“He needs to get to me, so he can get the password to the database. He’s going to sell out the company. That will raise seed money for whatever he’s going to do next, because he doesn’t care that hundreds of people trying to live their lives in peace will be killed if he sells the database. My guess?” She stared at the ceiling. “He ticked off the wrong person and he needs to either make it right or disappear. This is his best shot at leveraging whatever comes so he can stay alive.”
“Was he CIA, too?”
“Army Rangers.”
Her husband, the FBI agent who’d never met a law he couldn’t follow, blinked. A muscle in his jaw flexed. She hated that look. Knowing she was the cause of it? “Great.”
“Do you…know?”
“That your business isn’t a CPA firm?” He