Rosie stared at me as if I had betrayed her. And maybe in her mind I had. Her body trembled just as it had last night when she’d been freezing from the wind and the cold rain, and her hands clutched at her too-small Tennessee orange shorts. I wanted to reach out and wrap my arms around her, to drive the fear and confusion from her mind. But I couldn’t let myself do that.

“Rosie,” I said, taking a step forward.

She backed up hastily, her back slamming into the wall beside the bed. “Stop. Tell me who the hell you are or I swear I’ll scream bloody murder.”

I held up my hands. “Now just wait a minute. Hear me out.”

“You better tell me right fucking now.”

Her eyes blazed with a fury that made her entire face flush with red. Nostrils flared, she slanted away her body and slowly began to move toward the door leading out into the hotel hallway. Something about her anger sent a thrill through me, making me feel alive. I wanted nothing more than to push her up against the wall and drag my tongue across every inch of her silky skin until she screamed out, pleasure driving away all of this pain.

Shaking those damn unwanted thoughts out of my traitor of a brain, I glanced away.

“I used to work for the agency,” I said, choosing my words carefully. I couldn’t tell her everything, just enough to offer up an explanation for my knowledge about her situation. I certainly had worked for the agency after all, but she didn’t need to know the details of my job and how I’d come to find myself cut off and hunted. She wouldn’t even understand. Civilians never did.

“Wait, what?” She paused mid-step. “You used to work for the fucking FBI?”

“That’s right. About a year ago. When you told me your situation, I wanted to check in with your handler because I knew he shouldn’t have allowed this to happen.”

“So, you used to work for the FBI.” She stayed rooted to the spot, fiddling with the bottom edge of her shorts. “How come you don’t anymore?”

“Things didn’t work out,” I said in a flat voice. What a massive understatement. Someone had made a ruin of my life, pointing a finger at me for a crime I never would have committed. I didn’t know why, who, or how. All I knew was I’d been burned and the agency wanted me dead or alive.

“So, what were you? A spy or something?”

Narrowing my eyes, I said, “Enough about me. Why didn’t you tell your handler about this? You’ve risked your life for no goddamn reason.”

Her eyebrows arched high on her forehead. “You think my son is no goddamn reason? Well, you can go straight to hell.”

“For fuck’s sake, that’s not what I meant.” I strode closer to her and pointed a finger at her chest. “If you’d told your handler, he would have been able to help you. Instead, you just ran off alone without any backup. It was a stupid-ass move, and it almost cost you your life.”

“Back-up?” She raised her voice and swatted away my finger. “You know what he would have said if I’d told him? He would have told me I was shit out of luck. I had my chance to bring Owen with me, and that was that. Trust me, I wouldn’t have run off without telling him unless I had a damn good reason.”

“Bull. Shit,” I said. “I just spoke to the man. He would have sent in a team.”

“Just face the facts,” Rosie said, pushing at my chest. “Your agency? Is full of assholes who don’t give a damn about the people they say they’re trying to help. All that matters is catching the bad guys, regardless of the emotional cost. And if you used to work for them, I’m sure you’re just as bad as they are.”

“The hell I am.” Voice raised, I towered over Rosie. She glared up at me, her eyes flashing with an intoxicating mixture of anger, suspicion, and something else. Something that made my breath catch in my throat.

“Prove it,” she whispered. “Prove it to me by helping me get to my son.”