Shana heard the screen door squeak and sat up with a rush. Untangling the sheets from around her, she scrambled to dress and meet the agents with as much professional aplomb as she could muster absent a shower or any kind of grooming to erase the signs of recent lovemaking.

“Hello?” It was Sassy.

Stopping with her hand on the doorknob, Shana looked at Dane to see him staring at her, his signature unreadable expression in full force. He stood naked and glistening, with a pair of pants in one hand.

“Go ahead, girlie. I won’t stop you.”

The flare of heat made her move more than her desire to leave. The heat was anger, equal measures aimed at herself as much as Dane. He was way ahead of her. He’d already extracted himself from their lovemaking haze.

Damn the man. Damn her girlie hormones. Damn this mess of a mission coming at the worst possible time when she actually wanted to be a girlie girl, when she was planning her wedding.

For the love of God, get your act together. You’re still the same woman who vowed to devote her life to kicking ass.

Not giving him the satisfaction of a response, or a chance to see her pink shame—whether it was unfair to blame him or not, it was easier—she turned the knob and pushed the door open.

“We’re here, Sassy.”

Shana walked into the kitchen and found Sassy and Ronnie each holding several bags, including one that looked like food.

“I got back as soon as I could. While the agents were out. They’re not back yet?”

“Didn’t you hear about the incident at the airport?” Shana reached across the kitchen peninsula where an old thirteen-inch television sat and turned it on. There was no remote, but it had push-button controls on the front panel, making her think of visiting her old aunt’s house as a girl.

“Agents Andrews and Goodley are at the President’s vacation house, I’m sure participating in an after-event conference. I’m surprised it wasn’t on the news.” She fixed the channel to the local news station.

“I’m not surprised.” Dane stepped into the kitchen.

She recovered from the flinch, damn the man, and turned to face him. He was half dressed, wearing jeans and no shirt. Shana noticed Sassy’s eyes widen. He was obviously rumpled, with mussed hair and a stubbled chin and that look, shamelessly advertising where he’d been and what he’d been doing. He moved in her direction and the scent of their lovemaking assaulted her.

God, he was incorrigible. Darting away before he could touch her, before she could lose her armor of anger, she grabbed for the bag of food Ronnie held and hauled it to the counter, putting it between her and Dane. She needed more than a bag of food to keep her reason, to remember their mission. It could just as well have been Andrews and Goodley who’d walked in that door and then—

She wouldn’t think about it, but mortification was too easy a concept.

“Why aren’t you surprised? There were plenty of news cameras and press at the airport covering it and hovering while we were taken away.”

“Because the Secret Service, DHS, and most importantly the President all want to keep this as low profile as possible.”

“Since when does that count for anything?”

“Maybe they were particularly persuasive.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sassy wanted to know. Shana watched her eyes. They were still wide, but there was an edge now. Ronnie visibly gulped. But it was easy to see him gulping with his skinny young neck still waiting to mature. He had no stubble.

“Nothing,” she said.

“It means they were promised some extra access to the President’s vacation, maybe some extra photo ops, that kind of thing.” Dane smiled at Sassy.

Shana was surprised. Surprise was immediately followed by warmth. But then that was all ruined when her skepticism slunk in to take over. He wasn’t trying to be nice. He was sugarcoating the situation because Sassy was a girl. The cad.

Ronnie’s head bobbed up and down. Shana had almost forgotten about his sensibilities. They were at least as tender as Sassy’s. Now she felt like a cad. But there was no way she’d let go of her anger with Dane. She had to hold on tight.

She met his eyes and he gave away nothing. A blank wall was less neutral than his face right now. That jolted her anger to the hot-pink zone.

“Are we supposed to sit here and wait for them?” She lifted her chin. She was in no mood for waiting around.

“I was going to suggest an outing to the Lucky Parrot,” Dane said. “Ronnie won’t mind if we leave him and Sassy to enjoy their food.”

“Let’s go then.” She eyed Dane up and down, letting her anger ride. “Right after you get dressed. I’ll be waiting in the Jeep.”

“I’m driving, girlie. Don’t get any ideas.”

She laughed. Because she had fleetingly thought of sitting in the driver’s seat to annoy him. She should drive. Then he could stew in the consequences of his professional lapse and where it got him. She squashed the speck of detail about her own role in said lapse as it floated at the edge of her defiance like a gnat.

Then she sighed. Who was she kidding. He was the professional driver.

Dane drove. Fast.

“You think they’re following?”

Dane looked in the rearview.

“I thought you were watching, girlie. That’s your job. The rule is the passenger does everything else but drive. That includes checking for tails.”

“Don’t you think they’re all tied up and too busy to bother with us?”

“Sure. Maybe.”

Dane didn’t notice anyone in the rearview.

“Or maybe they trust us now that we’ve proven ourselves—”

“Hardly,” Dane snorted. “We didn’t do shit.”

“We flushed out the assassins. Exactly what they wanted us to do. They probably have—”

“Probably not.” Dane pulled into a spot two streets away from the Lucky Parrot.

“We’re going in dark? You’re being inconveniently cautious.”

They got out of the car and he followed her to the inconveniently fenced-in bulkhead and boosted her over. He climbed over himself and caught her before she sneaked down the cement stairs.

“Wait.”

She turned. He pulled her against him. He needed the stolen moment. Things didn’t seem real without her in his arms, without them being intimate. He no longer felt like himself when he held back, disconnected.

She allowed a small smile, held his face in her hands for an instant for a deep quick kiss, the kind that scalded. Then it was gone. He felt nourished.

“You’re good,” he said to her.

She laughed and pulled the heavy metal door of the bulkhead open. “As if.”

He followed her down the dark stairway to the door below. He rapped the code against the plywood enclosure. Waiting in the dark for the panel to slide open, he let his mind clear, letting her presence wrap around him without intruding. This is what he needed to keep. Intimacy with space, enough space to work, to let his mind and senses stay free from her even while she surrounded him.

The plywood slid to the right and Shana stepped inside past Acer.

“I tried calling,” Acer said as Dane walked into the narrow, well-lit space between the outer wall and the basement room.

“We were busy.”

“I got more on our couple.”

“Tell me you took pictures while you were there.”

“I didn’t stick around. Doctor’s orders.”

Dane snorted. Acer had had a particular aversion for assassins ever since he’d been the target of a gun for hire not long ago. It was a mystery why it should bother him now after fighting his way through two wars’ worth of armies.

“What did you get?” Shana asked.

“Names. Or their DBA handles.”

“Spit it out.”

“You’re not going to like it.” Acer went back to his computer suite. Dane waited and slashed a look at Shana not to push or they’d be there for a while.

“Jane and John Doe.”

Dane kept his face firm and waited for the rest of the story to fold out.

“Evidently it was more than just the code name NSA used for them, it’s their DBA. I found their website—or hiding spot, I should say—on the dark web. I zeroed in on their communications with the professor and got a hit—a very recent hit.” Acer tapped a few keys and turned the monitor in Dane and Shana’s direction.

“The only reason I was able to identify the comm was because Jane and John apparently were in a rush and didn’t take their usual double-layered precautions. So far nothing back on the professor.”

Dane looked at the message, but it was heavily coded and he decided not to take the time to puzzle it out. Looking at his watch, he said, “Translate.”

“Jane or John is looking for direction—asking about you two. Looking for confirmation of your identity. I don’t know how long they’ll wait for a response.”

Dane let out a puff of air, knowing they’d never get a response—or at least not any kind of response that would be good for Dane and Shana.

He said, “I suspect DHS closed Zarate down. They already have him. Either that or he’s run to ground.”

“What does that mean for us?” Shana asked.

Dane looked at her sparkling eyes. He saw that she knew the answer and wanted his confirmation. She always wanted him to brave the truth no matter how harsh.

“It means the assassins will be after us.”

Acer grunted. Shana kept her eyes on him and didn’t speak.

“Time to talk to the Governor. Now,” Dane said. “We need to know what NSA and DHS are doing in real time or we could be dead ducks.”

“You mean dead f—ks, don’t you?” Dane knew Acer didn’t like being out-hacked and especially not when it made him feel responsible for putting him and Shana in the line of fire.

Dane clapped his friend on the back. “Dial up the gov. Let’s get on the same page. Virtually speaking.”

“If DHS pulled the plug on Zarate’s communications line—or took control of it–” Acer said.

“Then our John and Jane Doe won’t have anyone to confirm that Shana and me not their rivals. Might think they need to get us out of the way to get their payday.”

“You don’t think they’d call it off if they don’t hear from Zarate?” Shana said. She was charmingly hopeful. He hated to dash her optimism.

“Could go either way,” he admitted. “But since the sweet ass of the love of my live is on the line, let’s assume the worst.”

Acer dialed up the Governor. Peter answered before the first ring stopped.

“Damn, it took you long enough to call. I’m en-route now. What the hell is going on?”

“Good to hear your voice too.” Dane knew the Governor hated when communications were out of his control. In the field, he’d always found the radio silence portion of their black ops missions the most damnably difficult part. It had been the only time Peter was prone to lose his cool. But he wasn’t the only one.

Dane caught him up on Acer’s latest intel of John/Jane Doe’s attempt at communicating with the professor and the likely result of no response.

“First I’ve heard of it. How long ago?”

“About an hour. Not too long after the airport fiasco,” Acer said.

“I can’t promise anything, but I’ll request a read-in for you three in this to find out what DHS and NSA know, though I suspect someone else is pulling the strings.”

“The Secret Service?”

The Governor paused and Dane read the silence loud and clear.

“Whoever it is, it may be out of my area of influence. If so, I’m going to have you two pulled out of this.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Dane said. What he meant was that he didn’t think it was the Governor’s call. He also knew Peter would know exactly what he meant. All of them knew. He breathed through a few more beats of silence.

“Keep me posted and keep a phone with you.” With that Peter signed off.

“Well that wasn’t helpful,” Shana said.

Dane would have said something flip then to break the tension, but his cell phone rang. The Secret Service-issued phone. Shana and Acer looked at him as he pulled it from his pocket and gave it a look. It rang again. It was Andrews of course. Or Goodley.

“No use putting off talking to them.”

“You realize if you do they’ll pin down your location?” Acer cautioned.

The phone rang again.

“Then we’d better be on our way.” He scooped up Shana’s hand and headed out from behind the wall into the room. “Let’s go out the front door.”

The phone rang for a fourth time.

“Are you going to answer that?” Shana said as they walked up the stairs.

“If you insist.” He pressed the green dot and put the phone to his ear.

“Damn it to hell, Blaise, what the hell are you doing and where the hell are you?”

“Where the hell are you?”

“I just pulled into your driveway.”

Dane waited for more because there’d been something in Andrews’s voice, a hesitation, a break from the anger and frustration, something unsure. And very uncharacteristic.

“What is it, Andrews?”

“Captain Lynch’s car is here—get here as soon as you can.” The agent ended the call on a distracted note.

That triggered the go-time response in Dane’s system, a familiar series of inner workings, some instinct, some learned and controlled, all well-practiced. His pulse ticked up as the adrenaline began to flow and his muscles tensed to ready. His thoughts flew while his mind slowed down time and he controlled his breathing, steady and calm. His insides cooled with the glacial hardness of resolve.

“What is it?” Shana’s voice was calm, if a pitch higher than usual. Her go-time response was more reckless than his, all fiery and reactive. But her mind was quick and she had adroit control. He’d seen her change gears mid-sentence when the situation called for it.

“Trouble back at the shack.” He floored the gas pedal and the Jeep shot forward—not like a race car, but the vehicle was more limber than an ordinary Jeep. Dane had seen to that.

Neither of them spoke for the next two and a half minutes while they raced back to the shack. Home. Keeping his mind blank, Dane refused to contemplate what he might find there.