Keeping a low profile had been Harper’s way of dealing with the strained relationship between him and his father, a former cop who suffered from a form of dementia, the aftermath of a job that had consumed him. Seth’s actually putting down roots shocked her, but the whole roommate thing was really over the top. Way too normal for Harper.
Living in downtown Chicago was expensive. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, Jessie knew it made sense that Harper had someone to share the cost, even if it was only “for a while,” whatever that meant.
But it was hard to deny she had been disappointed when he told her about his roommate. She had high hopes of spending real alone time with him. And Harper was excited about her coming to Chicago, too. She’d seen it in his eyes. Before she arrived, he’d loaded up her phone with text messages, telling her about his special plans for their time together.
She chalked it up to bad Karma. A dark, surreal cloud had followed her from New York, after Sam’s phone call. And after seeing Harper, she didn’t have the heart to blurt out the real reason she’d come. Eventually, she’d have to; but before she ruined everything by leaving town again, all she wanted was to enjoy his company.
When Seth rejoined her after calling his roomie, she took a deep breath and shook her head, trying to hide her disappointment in sharing her quirky computer genius with anyone else. He had connections in Chicago, and not all of them were wealthy land barons.
Harper was a magnet for anyone strange. His innocent charm had a lot to do with it. Like her, he knew more than his fair share of fringe dwellers. And curiosity had her wondering whom he trusted enough to share his place.
Harper led a weird life. He was a guy she still thought had a borderline aptitude for crime. His sense of right and wrong was squishy and . . . adaptable.
In a word, he was “perfect” for his new employer, the Sentinels. Garrett Wheeler, the head of the clandestine organization, had recruited him personally. And as for her, Harper was like a pistachio. She couldn’t get enough of him.
Jessie narrowed her eyes. “Does your new roomie know what you do for a living?”
“Yeah, he’s got a vague notion, but he doesn’t hold it against me. Someone’s got to work.” He shrugged. “Besides, I trust him.”
Typical Harper. And she wouldn’t have him any other way.
Jessie rolled her eyes. “If you say so, Harper.”
New York City
Sentinels’ Headquarters
When Alexa Marlowe crossed the threshold of Donovan Cross’s new accommodations—Garrett’s office—he was expecting her to make an appearance. The tall, athletic blonde made a point not to make an appointment or call ahead. He knew he’d have to earn her respect, and that would be a difficult task. And if the woman had something on her mind, she would say it. Marlowe had a reputation for being anything but subtle.
Cross didn’t bother to stand. He slouched in his chair behind the desk, staring at the woman who he knew would not be intimidated.
“Good, you saved me the trouble of sending for you.” He forced a smile. “Your work is exceptional. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Marlowe.”
“I wish I could say the same. All I’ve got is your word that you have a pedigree. You’ve seen my dossier. The least you could do is return the favor and show me yours.” The striking woman stood in front of his desk with arms crossed, not bothering to sit.
“And if I say no, what then?”
“Then you would seem like a man with something to hide.”
“Well, here’s a novel concept. You could give me a chance. I assure you, I’ll grow on you.”
“Look, I just want to know what happened to Garrett. Is it true you’re replacing him?”
“Yes. I follow orders, same as you.”
“Where is he?”
Cross raised his eyebrow and didn’t answer at first. He made her wait, until he finally said, “I can’t say.”
“Can’t or won’t?” She leaned across his desk and fixed her icy blue eyes on him. “Big difference.”
Cross smirked and rocked in his chair.
“We work for a covert agency. Everything is on a need-to-know basis. Surely you understand how that works.”
“I do, but surely you understand a man like Garrett doesn’t just disappear, not without people asking questions.”
From what he’d read of her file, a woman like Alexa Marlowe wouldn’t let her questions go unanswered. She was stubborn. Her inquisitive nature and undaunted spirit made her a good agent. Cross knew he’d have to go beyond protocol to satisfy her. And what he had to do wouldn’t be easy—for him or her.
“Sit down, Alexa.” He softened his voice and gestured toward a chair. The woman begrudgingly complied and sat on the edge of her seat. Her eyes were fixed on him with a stern expression on her face. Cross took a deep breath before he said, “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but . . .”
“But what?” She clenched her jaw.
“Garrett is dead. He was killed on a covert mission.” He swallowed and found it hard to look into her eyes. “I’m sorry. I know he was your friend.”
She fought to stay in control.
“No, this can’t . . .” She shook her head, and her eyes watered. “How?”
“I don’t have the details. And there are things we may never know.”
“What are you . . . s-saying?”
“I’m saying . . . that his mission was highly classified. And we may not even recover his body. Witnesses say he was killed in an explosion, Alexa. A bad one, but we’ve confirmed his DNA at the scene. I’m sorry.”
Cross had delivered his message and waited for her reaction. With a trained operative, he’d only get a glimmer if he got any response at all. Alexa Marlowe stared at him for a long moment with only small flinches to her facial muscles. He knew she was deciding what to believe, but when she gritted her teeth and stood without another question, her move surprised him.
Without a word, she left his office.
It took all Alexa’s strength for her to walk away from Donovan Cross when she wanted to scream. Screaming might wake her up from the living nightmare her life had suddenly become.
This couldn’t be happening.
Numb, she shook her head as she closed the door behind her and headed down a hallway toward the elevators in a fog, not knowing where she was going. She wanted a stiff drink to dull her senses and slow the rush of emotions that crowded in on her, but her training and her loyalty to Garrett wouldn’t allow it.
In all the operations she’d worked with Garrett, she found it hard to picture him dead . . . until now. He was such a resourcefully strong man who had lived through some amazing missions, many of those with her by his side.
Donovan Cross was another story. She didn’t know him or trust him. Her first impressions of him weren’t good. He was cagey and had a hard time answering a direct question, the opposite of Garrett.
But the biggest ache she felt was about Garrett and the connection they shared. If he was dead, surely she would know.
Wouldn’t she?
When he was alone, Donovan Cross picked up the phone and made a call. On the second ring, his call was answered by a familiar voice. Forgoing any customary greeting, he simply said, “I gave her the news, and she just left.”
“Do you think she believed you?”