you working on right now?”
He was making a transition in his work, preparing for the next phase of his career. “Let’s just say that it involves a terrorist cell.”
“In the United States?”
“That’s right.”
She wiggled her toes. “Unfortunately, I have to use the bathroom. Can we do more foot rubbing later?”
“As much as you want.”
She pulled her feet away from him, sat upright on the sofa and confronted him directly. “I knew from the first time we met you that you were involved in dangerous work.”
“Like any soldier,” he said with a shrug.
“Like my father.”
He met her gaze. Though she was obviously tired, her blue eyes glowed with an inner strength that reminded him of the seven-year-old girl who had fought to protect her mother. Her childhood trauma formed a basis of fear for the adult woman. “You blamed your father when you and your mom were kidnapped.”
“It wasn’t his fault,” she said, quickly defending him.
If she was thinking rationally, she had to know that her father hadn’t done anything that he thought would bring danger to his family. After the incident in South America, he’d gone to great lengths to protect them, bringing his wife and daughters to Washington, D.C., to live. Those were the facts.
But reality was always colored by emotion. He imagined that when Olivia thought of kidnapping, she remembered the feelings she’d had as a little girl. At some level, she would hold her father responsible.
“I promise you,” he said, “that my work will never endanger you or our child.”
She jabbed her forefinger at the center of his chest. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
Her sudden hostility ticked him off. He hadn’t yet told her about the changes that were coming up in his career, and he couldn’t expect her to know what he was giving up. Nevertheless, she ought to know him well enough to understand that he was, above all, responsible. “What are you getting at?”
“Has it occurred to you that the intruders at my cabin might not be enemies of my parents? They might be someone connected to your terrorist cell.”
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had acknowledged and dismissed that possibility. “They wouldn’t know about you. You’re not my wife.”
“Over the past couple of months, you’ve sent me a lot of baby presents, emails and flowers. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out our relationship.”
She was right. The attempted kidnapping could be because of his work. It might be his fault that she was in danger.
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