Expired Getaway (Last Chance County #7) - Lisa Phillips Page 0,33

shot her a “duh” look. “What I can’t figure out is what it is. The accountant firm “front” is clever. I’ll give you that. But what is it a cover for? Because you don’t run covert operations for the Agency.” He shook his head, out of answers.

“I’m so—”

“Don’t bother apologizing when you don’t mean it.”

“I—”

“Stay here. I’ll take care of this Clarke guy.” His gaze drifted away from her, and she saw the flex of his muscles as he prepared to get up. “If you’ve been out of the game this long, your skills will be rusty.”

“That isn’t…” She needed to tell him why she’d brought the vest.

“Later, you will be filling me in on the company you run and what exactly you do.”

Cold settled over her. Millie should’ve told him long ago, but how was someone supposed to confess something like this to an FBI agent? “I am sorry.”

He was already at the door. “Stay here.”

Millie crawled after him. “You have to be careful. He’s desperate and dangerous. Bridget is on her way so backup is coming, but she’s injured and I—” She stopped herself. This wasn’t the time to tell him.

“More secrets?”

“We need to talk. That’s why I wanted to come here.”

“But you weren’t planning on telling me everything, right?”

He sat up in the hallway, then climbed to his feet. Strength rippled through his muscles. Everything she’d fallen for was right there in front of her. Physically he was exactly what she found attractive, and then on top of that? His sense of honor was off the charts.

She loved that about him.

Eric was what she’d always wanted and exactly what she wanted to be. The person she’d worked to become since meeting him and giving up her life as an officer for the CIA. Trying to make amends for everything she’d done, even while she got as much distance from her former life as possible.

Millie sat up as well, the gun still in her hand as she leaned her back on the wall. “I don’t know what to say. The last few days have been…amazing. I wasn’t in a hurry to disrupt that.”

His brow furrowed. The same look he gave their boys when he was disappointed in them. “I’ll call Conroy. Get some police officers here to help. No disrespect to Bridget.”

“She’s had a rough few days. Backup would be good.”

“And you?”

Millie prayed for him to understand what she couldn’t tell him until the danger was over. “I can’t face down a gunman right now.”

His expression blanked. “Like I said. Stay here.”

Eric headed for the front room, which was the whole west side of the cabin. She liked to sit on the porch on that side and watch the sunset. They’d done that last night, snuggled under a blanket together. All the while, she’d tried to puzzle out why Clarke had left Bridget for dead, instead of just killing her there and then.

Unless he’d wanted Capeira to think she was dead. Even while he knew she would probably survive. Now he’d come after Bridget here in Last Chance.

Millie didn’t like her and Eric being compromised like that. She’d been having a winter getaway with her husband, time spent together where she hoped they’d be able to talk.

Now Bridget was here.

Clarke had found the cabin.

And that meant he was here for the password because there was no way to get into that database for the client list without one.

But why?

She heard Eric’s voice in the kitchen where he’d left his phone. Millie crawled to the end of the hall and looked out at the open-plan kitchen, living area, and farm table with its uncomfortable chairs. The whole place belonged to a former spy who’d married an FBI agent.

Victoria and Millie had gone to high school together and kept in contact sporadically over the years. When Victoria had gotten married, her doctor had told her that getting pregnant could be dangerous considering her age. They’d decided to adopt, and had found four children in foster care—siblings who’d all been orphaned. Two boys, two girls, all under eight.

She’d sent Millie pictures on their “gotcha” day when the adoption had gone through.

Tears filled her eyes even now, just thinking about it.

“You good?” Eric shoved the phone in his jeans pocket.

Millie nodded, even though that was a lie.

“Help is on the way. We just have to sit tight.” His expression was still blank. “Tell me about this guy, Clarke?”

“Former Army Ranger, like I said. Thirty-four. No family, no ties. Underfunded retirement accounts. Two