He knew they were different, from two worlds that couldn’t have been farther apart.
Only... I want her.
She was the first thing he’d wanted for himself in longer than he could remember.
And Cale had no plans to walk away from her.
Chapter Six
The looming building that housed the EOD rose before Cassidy. She didn’t normally head into the main office because Mercer liked to keep her away from that area.
He’d always said that the fewer people who actually knew about her, the better.
She’d refused to let his words hurt her. No, she’d refused to act like they hurt.
Because they had.
The hustle and bustle of Washington, D.C., zoomed past her. Night had fallen again, and the city seemed to beat with a pulse of life. Tourists strolled on the sidewalks, impatient cabdrivers zipped through the traffic and that big building just waited.
It wasn’t like anyone could prance inside and see Elite Operations Division emblazoned on the windows and doors of the offices. The EOD operated below the radar—most civilians would never know of its existence.
Armed guards waited just inside the lobby, and no one got past those guards, not without some very good clearance. So any clueless tourists who wandered inside, looking for a bit of D.C. history, would quickly find themselves escorted elsewhere.
The SUV pulled to a slow stop near the EOD headquarters. Drew turned toward her. He’d been her companion for the past twelve hours. He...and Cale. Cale had been on the plane with her. Cale’s two teammates—Logan and the ever-quiet Gunner—had been there, too. Only now, Cale, Logan and Gunner were in the vehicle behind them.
They had all been asked to come to Mercer’s office. She knew Mercer must have plans to berate them for her capture, but she wasn’t going to let those men be punished. She’d left; she’d disobeyed his orders. Not them.
“Cassidy...” Drew’s sigh of her name had her glancing at him. At least he’d finally dropped the annoying “Ms. Sherridan” bit. When her focus landed on him, he said, “You...you need to be careful with Cale Lane.”
She actually liked Drew. Sure, she’d heard the whispers that the guy was supposed to bleed ice water, but she’d never found him particularly cold. He’d talked to her during his guard assignments. He hadn’t acted like she was an annoying piece of fluff that he had to deal with—the way most agents usually did. Heck, even the way that Cale had originally looked at her.
I see you now. Cale’s words rang through her mind. She couldn’t get the man out of her mind.
“There have been some rumors about him,” Drew continued. “I just... You’re not as strong as you think,
Cass, and I know just how cosseted Mercer has made sure that you are.”
Cosseted... Was that his slang for guarded? Locked up? Kept away from the opposite sex? Because until she’d hit eighteen, she’d been in a boarding school—that was where she’d met Helen and Genevieve. And after she’d finished college, her father had made sure that her guard duty was in place. He’d amped up the protection when Helen had died—and when Cassidy had started her hunt for the Executioner.
“Just because he’s an agent, it doesn’t mean that you should trust him.”
His words floored Cassidy. You’re wrong. “Mercer trusts him. You know he wouldn’t have sent Cale if he didn’t believe—”
“Cale used you to get the Executioner.”
She shook her head. He had it so wrong.
But Drew was adamant. “He let you escape him. Do you really think a guy like Cale would have been caught off guard by a left hook?” Drew shook his head. He knew her signature move so well—mostly because he’d taught it to her. “I’ve seen him take down half a dozen guards in a matter of seconds. One blow—no matter how powerful—wouldn’t stop him.”
And she’d seen Cale go through all those men in that basement, slashing out brutally with that chunk of glass as his only weapon.
“He wanted to stop the Executioner.” Her words were soft, but they seemed too loud in the interior of that SUV.
“Yeah, that’s what he wanted, but his job was to protect you, not to put you in harm’s way as he used you as bait.”
Drew wasn’t understanding. “I used myself as bait.”
“He’s a trained agent—you’re not!” Now the ice that he was so famous for seemed to crack. “He could have gotten you killed. I know his orders because Mercer gave the same ones to me. Get you out. Get you back to D.C. and then—”