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  "She showed up at a party for Forge the other night."

  Kilpatrick nodded. "She does that. Works for the local paper. I wouldn't be surprised if Jacob has her writing a story on Forge to save their asses the way they've been sinking lately. The editor in Chief, Jacob Anderson, would do anything to save his job."

  Including get an innocent girl killed. If Forge had known what she was up to, he would have demanded Connor follow her for reasons much worse than his attraction. He doubted her death would be as savage as beheaded in a Mexican border town, but she'd still be dead.

  "Need me to speak with her? I could have my wife put a bug in her ear about Henry that would keep her away from him," Kilpatrick offered.

  "No," Connor answered, his mind already working out how he could use her to his advantage while still keeping her safe under his watchful eyes. "I'll handle her. Just be ready in a few weeks when Nashville decides to take Forge down. I'll need backup."

  Kilpatrick nodded. "We've got your six, brother."

  Connor hadn't made it to the front of the department before his cell buzzed with a message from Forge. He waited until he'd stepped outside before reading it. Kilpatrick knew of his undercover status, but the rest of the department wouldn't until the day came to take down Forge, and he hoped to keep it that way.

  The one-word text read Call. Forge wanted to discuss something off the record, so Connor clicked the record button on his apps list and dialed the number.

  "You're late?"

  He checked his watch. He'd chatted with Kilpatrick for longer than expected. "I'm on my way now."

  "Any luck finding the woman?" The hope in Forge's voice made Conner's blood boil. "Not yet."

  "Don't worry about her anymore. We know her location. I've got a man on her already."

  Connor stopped walking toward his car. A man on Claire. Forge found her. Did he know what she was? He fumbled for a way to get control of Claire again. "Who? She was easily spooked the other night. You might want someone with a delicate touch approaching her."

  "Danny. He's meeting with her tonight. I need you for more important matters. When you get here, we can discuss tonight's political fundraiser protocols."

  Forge hung up.

  Shit. Connor had hoped to ease Claire into trusting him enough to get her out of Forge's path, but the time for playing games had come to a crashing end. He had to get her to trust him and fast.

  He searched his contacts for Danny's number and hit the call button.

  "Hey," he started when Danny groaned a mangled 'what' into the phone. "Change of plans from the boss. I'm taking over for you tonight. Bossman is afraid you'll scare the girl off."

  "You sure?"

  "Just give me the details and show up at the fundraiser in my place tonight."

  "If you say so," Danny repeated out the location and time for his meet-up. "You know what to do."

  The phone clicked.

  He didn't know what to do. What had Forge planned for Claire tonight? He didn't want to know. He just hoped his plan to meet her instead of Danny hadn't cost him six months of undercover work.

  Claire slipped on jeans and a button-down blouse for the meet-up but had forgotten to bring her coat. The afternoons were still too warm for one, and the last time she'd been out past midnight had been long before moving to Rebel.

  She rubbed her hands over her arms and marched in place behind the dumpsters of the local grocery store, burning off nervous energy and staying warm.

  She'd turned on the recorder on her phone at the stroke of midnight, but at ten past, she worried her battery would run out before the contact showed, if they showed. On second thought, she should have at least told someone about the photo and the note. She could have left it on Tate's desk just in case. She could have beat Tate into the office in the morning and remove it if she was able.

  Her stomach twisted. Coming had been a mistake. If something happened, no one would have a clue where to start looking for her or her killer.

  Something made a noise behind the dumpster, and a layer of gooseflesh broke out across her arms. She pulled in a breath and glanced around the corner. A black cat with a chicken bone jumped off the dumpster and glared at her.

  "Damn cat," she muttered, feeling her heart run up into her throat.

  There had to be other ways to get information on Forge than sneaking around dark parking lots. Methods that didn't include being attacked in the middle of the night. Claire pulled her phone from her pocket and ended the recording. She began walking back to her car while dialing Tate when a shadow from behind blocked out the one street light.

  She turned back to face the road, but her gaze caught something much closer. A man dressed in all dark clothing with a beanie covering his head was walking closer. Long, deliberate strides would have him by her side in seconds. Her body launched forward, but her feet stayed planted to the ground. She couldn't make herself run.

  She'd been through much worse fear before; she reminded herself. Foster parents who only saw her as a check and didn't care how they disciplined her behavior. Beatings with belt buckles and sticks.

  She could deflect with the best of them.

  Then his face came into view, and her heart ran right back up into her throat and lodged there. "You!"

  With the light to her back, it wasn't easy to make out the face but one step closer, blocking the streetlight from his features, and she instantly knew she'd made the biggest mistake of her life.

  4

  Connor pulled his SUV into the parking lot across the street from the meeting spot. He'd meant to only sit and watch Claire until she gave up on meeting Danny. Then, if she were smart, she'd get back in her car, and Connor could follow her home and watch her walk into her apartment alone. He could focus better on his job if he could see her safe.

  He'd have to concoct a story for Forge about dashing out of the fundraiser dinner. Maybe pin it on a miscommunication with Danny that would get the oversized thug canned from Forge's crew. A kill two birds kind of thing.

  Connor glanced down at his phone to check the time when the hairs on his neck stood on end. He looked up in time to see Claire standing at the edge of the dumpster staring hard at something behind it.

  Or someone.

  With a rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins, Connor shoved the driver's side door open and ran full out to the edge of the street. He crouched in the darkened shadows to cross the road and silently made his way toward the opposite side of the dumpster.

  The deep voice hit him before his eyes adjusted to the light enough to make out the man standing feet away from Claire.

  "You came. I can't believe you were stupid enough to show up."

  Connor crouched low and positioned himself at the edge of the dumpster, ready to strike when given the opportunity.

  "You said he wasn't who I thought he was. Did you mean Henry Forge or Connor Blake?"

  Claire held a paper up and waved it. In the dark, Connor couldn't make it out.

  "I meant both, but that's not why I sent the note."

  Connor tilted his head to hear better. The tone, the gravely, grating low timber was familiar.

  "Then why did you send it?" Claire asked.

  Connor caught the flash of something silver in her hand. Good girl, he made out the keys she'd threaded through her knuckles.

  The dark figure stepped closer to her. "You want something I can give you, and I want something you can give me. We have a mutual interest you could say."

  "And that interest is?"

  Laughter filled the darkness, low and off-key. Connor's chest tightened. If the guy took one more step in Claire's direction, he'd blow his cover to protect her.

  "You want to know more about my boss, and my boss wants to know more about you. He sent me here tonight to arrange a little get together at his place later. I'm your ride."

  "And if I don't want to go?"

  He stepped closer until he blocked Connor's view of Claire. "Then, I'm willing to do what
it takes to convince you." He reached for the paper in her hand. "The man in this picture isn't who you think he is. Forge wanted you to know you've been spending time with the wrong guy. If you want the whole story for your newspaper, he's willing to give it all."

  Connor's throat closed, and every nerve ending in his body fired at once. Forge knew she was a reporter. Chances were, he also knew Conner's true identity.

  "I'll go with you," Claire answered. "Just give me a second to call a friend. She's expecting me home soon, and I don't want her to worry."

  The dark figure reached for her hand as she began to dip it into her coat pocket. He pulled out her phone and slid it into his jeans. "You won't need to call anyone, Doll. You're with Danny now."

  The second after Danny reached for her arm, Connor was up on his feet and charging. His fist sank into the center of Danny's broad back, lunging him forward into Claire. She screamed, and they both tumbled to the ground.

  If he'd had his gun, he would have clocked Danny over the head hard enough to knock him out, but with only his bare hands to work with, he settled for a few punches to the face and a foot to the back of the knee. If Danny knew what was good for him, he'd stay down.

  Claire had one arm over her face for protection, and the other poised to push off the ground. Connor used that arm as leverage to lift her out from under Danny.

  "How did--"

  "Move." He cut her off with the single word, pulling her off her feet before dragging her to his car. She stumbled twice, and Connor used his strength to hold her up until she found her footing again.

  At the car, he opened the driver's side door and directed her in, pushing her into the passenger seat before sliding in himself and revving the engine. Danny was down, but once he realized what would happen when he returned to Forge empty-handed, he'd find his feet.

  Connor drove past the apartment he kept in town and out onto the highway for several miles. Only a few times during the ride did he sense Claire's fear. She didn't talk. At times, he had to glance over to make sure she was still breathing.

  He turned off to a side road leading to a two-bedroom brick building he used as a safe house for communication with Nashville. As soon as he parked in the driveway, Claire cut her gaze hard on him.

  "What the hell was that?"

  "Good." He answered, reaching for her bag from where she'd tossed it on the floorboards earlier.

  "Good?" her voice rose.

  "You're not in shock. I was afraid when you stopped speaking, you might be."

  "I'm in shock, all right." She didn't make a move to leave the car when he got out and waited for her. "Who was that, and why...what the hell is going on, Connor?"

  Her voice cracked, and his chest tightened. He'd seen frightened before. Seen what it did to the mind and the body. Witnessed the breaking down from the inside until only a shell of a person was left. He reached for Claire's hand. She was ice cold, as he expected. "Come inside, and I will tell you everything."

  Claire bunched herself into a ball against the opposite door. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me who you really are and what is going on with Forge."

  Connor popped his head back inside the car and reached for her. "You're cold and scared. I'll tell you anything you want to hear inside. I need to get this vehicle hidden fast. Then we can talk."

  Claire eyed the house. "I'm not going in there alone with you."

  "Claire," He lowered his voice, aiming to keep it soft and unthreatening. "Danny is one of Forge's men. Forge sent him to bring you back to him. Your plan at the party worked better than you thought, and Forge now wants to meet you."

  "How do you know."

  "Because I was supposed to bring you to Forge. I switched jobs with Danny hoping to avoid your meeting with him, but Forge sent Danny anyway."

  Her eyes widened in the moonlight, and shock crossed her face in a wave. "You were going to take me to Forge?"

  Connor shook his head. "I was there tonight, watching you. Making sure nothing happened to you."

  "Then why didn't you warn me, or call the police?"

  Connor lowered his hand. This conversation was going in circles and losing him precious time. Danny would have called Forge by now, and the team would be out looking for his black SUV. It wouldn't take long for them to spot it if he couldn't dump it in a backfield off the road.

  "Claire. I know this isn't going to be easy for you to believe." Telling her, he was a detective rode the tip of his tongue. She could make a call to Nashville, and within minutes she'd know the truth. But six months of undercover work, with only a month to go before being able to put Forge and his team behind bars on federal charges, caused him to swallow those words. "I know you don't want to trust anyone right now, but I'm asking you to trust me."

  She eased off the door's side, her gaze studying him the entire time before she reached a hand out to his and scooted across the seat.

  With his fingers on her back, he led her up the dark steps to the front door. She trembled under her jacket, causing him to stay close. He kept one hand on her as he slid his key into the door and opened it into darkness. He ushered her in before shutting the door and turning on a small lamp on a table in the hallway.

  Claire jumped back against him at the sight of the interior of his hide-out-house. He'd cleaned the downstairs up enough to use a back room for meetings and phone calls and added a cot for emergencies, but the front of the house and the upstairs looked the same as they had when he'd arrived. Years of sitting empty had done a number on the house. "It's not pleasant, but you're safe here."

  Claire ran her hand over the railings of the stairs and grimaced. "You live here?"

  "No." How could he explain this without blowing everything? "It's a place I come to for privacy."

  She turned and looked at him. Her eyes glistened with what he hoped wasn't building tears. "You need a hiding place from your boss, you mean."

  "Something like that." He shrugged. "I never said I liked the man." He took out his phone and turned on the flashlight before guiding her to the back of the house. "Sometimes, it's helpful to be able to go off-grid in my line of work."

  "Off-Grid," she repeated, her voice weak.

  When he reached the back room, he'd outfitted with blacked-out windows, a working bathroom, a small kitchenette Connor had made with a micro-fridge and some shelving and a cot, she stopped short, and her body trembled enough he could hear her teeth chatter. If she'd known the locations of the half dozen firearms he'd stashed in the room and the surrounding house, he was sure she'd make a run for it back to town.

  Connor grabbed a blanket off the only chair in the room and wrapped it around her shoulders. "I'm going to move the car out of sight, then I'll be back in. Make yourself comfortable. I have some food and drinks in the fridge. Towels in the bathroom."

  Why was he acting like a hotel hostess? He shook his head, unsure what to do or say to make Claire less scared of being alone with him in the dark house in the middle of butt fuck Eygpt. So, he said nothing. Just shut the door behind him and locked her in for her own safety.

  Claire paced the small room in the back of Connor's house, hoping the movement would ease her nerves. She tested the one door that led outside and the two windows covered in black fabric. All were locked.

  A chill ran up her spine as she sat on the cot, thinking of Connor sleeping under the blankets stretched over the small bed made her more uncomfortable. Moving to the only chair in the room didn't help.

  She'd liked the feel of him at her back. The warmth of him guiding her, protecting her. In the car, when she'd paused before reaching out to him, she'd done so more out of uncertainty than fear.

  Connor wouldn't have defied orders to protect her if he meant her harm. She at least felt comfortable in that thought. But even knowing she'd be safe with him didn't stop her body from shivering under the blanket. Left locked away in the middle of nowhere with a man who'd lied to her didn't make her feel safe.

  She reached in her pocket fo
r her phone and found it empty. In the confusion, she'd forgotten Danny had taken it from her. All of her contacts. Her last call to Tate. Would Danny go after Tate? Would they see the newspaper number and realize she was a reporter?

  Her stomach flipped at the thought, and she wrapped the blanket tighter around herself until she all but disappeared in its warmth. Her knees were molded into her chest, she laid her cheek on top of them and closed her eyes. Only then did she let the tears flow.

  She couldn't be sure how long she'd sat in the darkness when the screech of the front door opening jolted her upright.

  "It's only me," Connor said from the hall, his footfalls moving slowly.

  "The car is hidden, and no one knows about this place but for me. You're safe here."

  Claire wished she could wrap the assurance in his voice around her like she had the blanket. The small grin that tugged at his mouth melted her into the chair.

  "Come on." He held out a hand and pulled her to her feet. "You'd be more comfortable laying down." With care, he pulled back the covers on the bed, then reached for her hands.

  Claire turned in a circle to help him until her eyes locked with his. She glanced at his mouth. Thick, plum-colored lips still slick from when he'd licked them seconds before beckoned to her. Kissing him would be a mistake, but a small one that might be enough to take her mind off the outside world and Danny and Forge.

  Connor leaned in closer, his gaze drifting to her mouth then back to her eyes as if to ask permission.

  He didn't need to ask. Claire wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself up to his height until their lips touched, and she could drain every ounce of courage from him.

  He tasted of fresh mint and night air, and the slightest hint of soap hit her nose. When she'd had her fill, she pulled away enough to read his face.

  "I…" Connor brushed the hair off her forehead and studied her expression. "I'm not sure this is such a good idea."