The campus was beautiful. Old trees, large grassy areas, and walkways meandering between the various buildings. Callie had been there before, but it was Brundar’s first time, and she was excited to show him around.

“Where did you go to college?” she asked as they left the administration building. Just as the hacker had promised Brundar, he’d had her registered as Heather Wilson. She’d picked up a bunch of forms even though everything was available online. Tomorrow she would sort through them and fill out everything needed.

“I didn’t.” Brundar turned to look at one of the buildings. “Must be stifling to sit in one classroom or another all day.”

“Not if you’re enjoying the subject you’re studying.”

He shrugged.

Some people were more physical than cerebral, but for some reason, Brundar struck her as someone who was both. Perhaps circumstances had prevented him from pursuing higher education. Not everyone could afford it. Given that he and his brother had been raised by a single parent, money had probably been tight.

Damn it. What if she’d embarrassed him by asking?

“I guess not everyone likes studying,” she offered.

“When I was young, my brother thought I would become a scholar. He said I didn’t have the soul of a fighter. But I proved him wrong.”

There was a note of pride in Brundar’s tone, which was a big deal since he’d rarely expressed any emotion. Apparently, he valued fighting skills more than scholarly pursuits.

Good. It meant he hadn’t been offended by her question. “How long did it take you to master swordsmanship?”

“Centuries,” he deadpanned.

Callie chuckled. “It must have seemed that way.”

“Yes, it did. Endless hours of grueling training. I wanted to be the best.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

No hesitation there. Was it the truth or his ego? “Did you win any tournaments?”

He chuckled. “Many. I’m still alive. My opponents are dead.”

Was he joking? No one went to war with a sword anymore. Even if he served during the last one, she doubted he’d killed anyone with a blade. And competitors in fencing tournaments didn’t kill each other, either. He must have been talking about mastering a different weapon.

“You must be very good with rifles and machine guns as well.”

“I am.”

“Which war did you serve in?”

“Not any that you’re aware of.”

A secret war? He was probably a member of some special commando unit that went on undercover missions.

Casting Brundar a sidelong glance, Callie took in his harsh profile, his straight posture, his determined strides. He was a soldier through and through—from the way he talked to the way he thought. It was like he’d never known anything else, and civilian life with all its loose social rules baffled him.

“Did you go to a military high school?”

“No.”

Brundar’s curt tone was a good indication that he was starting to get annoyed with her incessant questioning. She’d overdone it. The trick to getting information out of him was to limit her inquiries and spread them out over time, but once again curiosity had gotten the better of her.

On the one hand, it was frustrating to have to do all this careful maneuvering to get Brundar to lower his shields a fraction at a time. On the other hand, it was challenging. Even professional psychologists had to work months and sometimes years to get a person to open up, or deal with problems, or even acknowledge having them.

In fact, Callie was convinced that no psychologist would have been able to make the smallest crack in Brundar’s shields, for the simple reason that he didn’t think there was anything wrong with them. Furthermore, there was no chance in hell Brundar would have ever consulted one.

The silence that stretched between them felt uncomfortable. Callie needed to fill it with something other than addressing personal questions to Brundar. A strategic change of subject was in order. “I’m thirsty. Do you want to check out the student cafeteria? I would love a cup of coffee.”

Brundar scanned the grounds again as he had continually done throughout their walk. Always on high alert, the guy never relaxed his vigilance. “I don’t see one, but I can smell food.”

“You do? Can you find the source, or should I ask someone for directions?”

His lips compressed, showing his displeasure. Guys were so weird about that. Suggesting that they needed assistance to find a location was like an insult to their manliness. On the other hand, they had no problem getting help finding their socks, their car keys, their wallets, and any other item they misplaced in the house. Somehow that was okay.

Brundar took her hand. “With me around, you’ll never need to ask for directions.”

She chuckled. “The nose that knows.”

“In this case, yes.”

Following a smell she couldn't detect, Brundar found the cafeteria with ease. The place was huge, the coffee was meh. But then Callie hadn’t expected it to be good.

Brundar tossed his cup after taking one sip without slowing his steps, hitting the trashcan’s flap with an unerring accuracy.

“That bad?” she asked.

“I’ve had better. My cousin’s wife bought a fancy cappuccino machine, and she keeps experimenting with it. Naturally, she chooses my brother and me for the taste tests.”

Another little tidbit of information. Should she chance a couple more questions?

Not as finicky as Brundar, Callie took another sip of her coffee. “I’m guessing you’re talking about the wife of the cousin you work for.”

Brundar nodded.

“Do you like working for him? Does he treat your brother and you well?”

“Kian is a good and fair leader. I’ve never had any grievances with him. My brother, however, finds great satisfaction in aggravating me any chance he gets.”

This was another piece of information to add to her collection.

“And yet you choose to work with him every day, and to share an apartment with him.”

A ghost of a smile flitted through Brundar’s austere features. “Anandur never means to insult. He’s a trickster and a joker and he thinks he is funny. As annoying as he is, I wouldn’t want anyone else fighting by my side.”

That was as close as Brundar got to admitting that he loved his brother.

“I would really like to meet him. Your cousin and his wife too.”

Brundar didn’t respond. Was he pretending he hadn’t heard her? Or maybe he hadn’t understood the implied suggestions that she wanted him to arrange a get-together?

Pushing the subject could backfire, but Callie felt compelled to do so despite the possibility of it blowing up in her face. “Do you think we could maybe all go out together to a restaurant? Does your brother have a girlfriend? Because a three couples outing could be fun.”

“No.”

God, she felt like slapping the infuriating man.

“What do you mean, no? No, as in it’s not going to be fun? Or no, as in you don’t think we could all go out to dinner? Be more specific.”

With a sigh, Brundar pinched his forehead between his thumb and forefinger. “My brother doesn't have a girlfriend. That’s the only question I can answer.”

Crap.

The rest of the walk to the parking lot passed in even heavier silence. Callie searched her brain for something to say, but for once came up with nothing.

She wasn’t going to apologize for wanting to meet his family. And she wasn’t going to apologize for bringing it up either.

Was he still taking her out to dinner, or was that idea scrapped together with what passed for Brundar’s good mood?

When they reached his Escalade, he opened the door for her as he usually did, and she thanked him politely even though the lump in her throat was the size of a frog.

“Are you taking me home?” Callie asked as he turned on the engine.

He lifted a brow. “Do you want to go home? I thought we were going out to dinner.”

Well, at least there was that. “I thought you changed your mind.”

“Why would I do that?”

The guy seemed genuinely puzzled, but she was not in the mood to spell it out for him. It was getting tiresome. Callie felt like she was the only one putting in the effort for their so-called relationship to work.

Except, even as peeved as she was, she knew it wasn’t true.

Brundar was taking days off work to be with her, and he was doing so much to help her out, like taking her to the campus because she didn’t have a car and was afraid of going by herself, in case Shawn was stalking the place.

They were both making an effort, each in her or his own way. It was vitally important to remember that, especially when annoying things popped up, making her doubt her resolve.

People had different things going for them; different skills, different comfort zones, and judging everyone by the same standards, usually her own, was wrong. She was verbally competent where Brundar was not. She was outgoing while he was not. On the other hand, where he would bravely meet an enemy head on, she would cower in the darkest hidey-hole she could find.

The most important thing they had in common was loyalty. Callie would do anything for the people she cared for, and she believed Brundar would do so as well.

What about honesty, though?

She had laid herself bare for him, keeping nothing back, while he was still more secretive than an undercover agent in enemy territory.

Maybe that’s what he was.

What if that story about being a bodyguard for his businessman cousin was a lie? What if he was a Russian spy?

Callie shook her head. With way too much time on her hands, she was reading too many suspense novels lately. Still, if Brundar were a spy, he would be Russian. With his pale complexion and hair color, he could hardly be spying for anyone else.

As far as she knew, the USA had no conflict with Scotland or any of the Scandinavian countries, and she’d already dismissed the Mafia scenario. A Google search had revealed nothing. No mention of anyone named Brundar or Brad who matched Brundar’s description.

What the heck was his last name?

After today’s fiasco, Callie wasn’t about to ask. She could either search his wallet and check his driver’s license, or invent a good reason for needing to know it.

“What are you thinking so hard about?” Brundar asked.

Callie plastered a smile on her face. “I’m trying to guess where you’re taking me.”

“Do you like Italian?”

“I love it.”

“Then I’m taking you to Gino’s. Best Italian cuisine in L.A.”