Page 38 of Shadow Strike
“Knowing you’re safe at SPS would relieve both our minds,” CB interjected.“It would take a lot of stress off of Regan.”
Lucy looked from him to Regan.Her jaw worked, and Regan could see the war playing out behind her eyes.Pride versus practicality.Stubbornness versus love.
Finally, she exhaled a loud sigh.“Fine.But I’m bringing Desi.”
“He’s our dog,” Regan told Claire.“Her dog.”
“Of course.”Claire’s expression eased slightly.“I’ll escort you home to pack a bag and pick him up.He’ll have plenty of room to run, and the guys will love having a dog around.”
Lucy didn’t look happy, but she nodded.She gave Regan a long look—the kind that saidwe’ll talk about this later—before she grabbed her purse.
CB waited until they were gone before speaking.“I have to go.”
Regan turned to him.“Go where?”
“To see my dad.”He didn’t meet her eyes.“There’s some family business I need to handle.”
“Groceries?”
“Something like that.”
His tone, the way he held his shoulders, the deliberate vagueness—it was a lie, or at least not the whole truth.
“Clive.”
He looked up, but nothing changed in his demeanor.“An SPS operative is on the way to watch you and the bar,” he said.
Damn it.She needed to find out what he was hiding.“Let me come with you.I want to meet your father.You’ve been staying in my house, protecting my family—I’d like to know yours.”
“No.”
Everything in her tensed.“Why not?”
“Because this is something I need to do alone.”His lips pressed into a thin line.“The operative is Lynx, and he’s on his way to relieve me.He’ll be here in a few minutes.”
Lynx?Oh, good lord.“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I can give.”
Frustration and hurt tangled in her chest.This wasn’t the man who’d held her last night.Not the man who’d opened up about his family, who’d let her see the scars beneath the surface.This was someone else entirely—colder, harder.Someone she didn’t know.
“You’re lying,” she said quietly.
His expression didn’t change.“I’m protecting you.”
“From what?Your father?The man who had a stroke and can barely function some days?”He flinched, and a chasm opened up between them—all the distance she’d thought they’d bridged in the past few days suddenly yawning wide again.“What are you really doing, CB?”
The front door opened, and a man walked in.Tall, dark-haired, dressed in a casual suit but with the same alert carriage as Claire.He nodded at CB.
“Lynx,” CB said.“This is Regan.She owns the bar.Regan, this is Lynx.He’s former Secret Service.You’ll be in good hands.”
Former Secret Service?Any other time, she’d be salivating at the chance to talk to him—the stories he could tell.As she studied his face, something about it seemed familiar.“Your name is Lynx?”
“Codename, ma’am.”
“Don’t ever call me ma’am again.It’s Regan.”
His dark eyes glanced at CB.The two men seemed to share some nonverbal communication.She could just guess that it had to do with her being difficult.Then he gave her a professional smile.“Of course.”
