“Are you going to tell me about your new job?”

The question took him by surprise, engrossed as he was in the feel of Nora’s naked body against his, the smooth slope of her shoulder as he trailed a finger down her arm.

He opened his eyes, forced himself to keep his voice steady. “Still working out the details.”

She flipped onto her stomach. The sight of her, post-sex hair framing the beautiful face that haunted his dreams even now after he’d claimed her, made his cock stand at attention despite the work-over she’d just given him.

“You can’t tell me anything?” A hint of suspicion crept into her voice.

He pulled her onto his body, relishing the feel of her spread out on top of him, his erection nestled between the still-damp mound between her legs. “I don’t want to say anything until I figure it out.”

A shadow passed in front of her eyes like a bank of clouds. “It’s dangerous, isn’t it?”

He lifted his head, kissed her deeply. “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you. And I’d rather take you to dinner.”

They’d come back to her place immediately after he picked her up from work and had fallen straight into bed. Wrapping his arms around her, burying himself inside her, was the antidote to everything that ailed him, but he hadn’t been foolish enough to think that the heat of their passion would give him an indefinite pass on the secret between them.

He just hadn’t expected it to come up post-coitus.

“I’m not hungry for dinner yet,” she murmured as she kissed her way down his chest, her hair sliding down his body like satin as she made her way to his throbbing cock.

He groaned as she took him in her mouth. Getting lost in the pleasure of her wasn’t even a choice.

Two hours later, they left the apartment and headed for Rosa’s, Braden’s body wrung out in the best possible way. After his conversation with Locke, he’d spent the day running down a few old sources from the Bureau. He’d been careful to stick to those who’d been cut off for one reason or another — a bad tip, a drug problem too bad to guarantee control by a handler, or anything else that would make a source a bad bet.

It meant they weren’t the best bet for Braden either, but engaging sources still in play at the Bureau was too dangerous. The last thing he needed was for one of them to mention to their handler that they’d been contacted by Braden now that he’d gone rogue.

And they’d made dubious contributions to his search for the mole anyway — right up until he got to Cletis Brown, a former meth dealer who’d gotten clean last time he was in the clink. After he’d done his time, Cletis steered clear of his old handlers at the Bureau. Luckily for him — and for Braden — they hadn’t attempted to re-engage him.

Braden had been worried about the length of time between Brown’s last contact with the Bureau and his release from County. The longer a source was out of the loop, the less likely he would know anything of value.

But Cletis had surprised him.

The tip wasn't specific enough to be a break in and of itself, but shortly after his release, Brown had been contacted by a badge-carrying member of the Bureau who’d asked him if he knew who was running guns in South Central. The description Brown gave him didn’t ring any bells, but it was a start.

The break had been the only thing to take his mind off Nora and the ticking clock to the end of her work day. He’d made the drive back into the city as the sun dropped in the west, the information he’d gleaned from Cletis fading into the background as he got closer to seeing Nora.

Her smile had lit up her face when she caught sight of him, and his own heart had threatened to float out of his chest. He’d wanted to jump out of the car and pull her into his arms right there, but he knew she wouldn’t appreciate the display of affection so close to the office.

He’d settled for a long kiss when she got into the car, then held her hand all the way back to the beach. They were barely inside the door to her apartment when she’d turned to him, unbuttoning his shirt in a frenzy, her mouth every bit as urgent as his while he undressed her next to the front door. He’d waited until she was naked to sweep her into his arms and carry her into the bedroom, and they’d spent the next three hours falling into the bottomless paradise of their passion. He wanted to mold her to his side, carry her with him every minute of every day even though he knew she would protest every step of the way.

The feeling didn’t dissipate as he parked the car, opened her door, led her into Rosa’s dimly lit interior. It didn’t diminish as they shared a bowl of chips and salsa, ordered margaritas, talked about everything and nothing while they ate.

He was starting to think it would never lessen. That he would want her this much for the rest of his life. That he’d been traveling the world, immersing himself in missions with the Bureau and the Syndicate only to keep himself from wanting her.

From needing her.

She’ll leave you once she knows you lied…

The voice was an insistent whisper in his head. He would have to tell her about his work with Locke. He wasn’t exactly an expert in long-term relationships. Long-term wasn’t really his thing.

Neither were relationships.

But Nora wasn’t just any woman. She was his woman.

He knew it with a bone-deep certainty on which he would have bet his life. And that meant a new set of rules were in order. Starting with honesty.

He would find the right time, tell her enough to keep the Feds from his door by omitting the details, protect Locke and his operation until he knew where Nora stood.

Fool.

The voice inside his mind was right. Nora would never let this go. She would never see things the way he did. Would never believe there was any other way to play the game but by the rules.

It was one of things that made her special.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked, pulling him back from the quicksand of his thoughts.

He looked across the table, her face bathed in the soft light of the candle at the center of the table.

“Nothing.” He laughed when she looked skeptical. She knew him too well. “Everything.”

“I think I have the cure for that,” she said.

“You do?”

She nodded.

“Care to share?” he asked.

“Let’s just say it involves ice cream and bed.”

He grinned. “I’m onboard already. Your place or mine?”

She thought about it. “Yours.”

Braden paid the bill and they stepped out into the warm evening. The conundrum of his new line of work was pushed to the back of his mind as they argued over pints of Ben and Jerry’s at the supermarket. They compromised on Mint Cookie (her choice) and Tonight Dough (his) and headed back toward his apartment.

They were stepping out of the carport and heading for the stairs when he heard the scuffle of feet on concrete behind him. His training went into overdrive as he turned, stepping in front of Nora by instinct, his eyes skimming the shadows, searching for things that didn’t belong there.

He only had a moment’s warning before he saw movement to the side of the carport. He drew his weapon as a figure stepped from the space between Nora’s building and the one next door.

“Freeze, FBI.” He didn’t even think about the words. About the fact that he no longer had the right to say them. He’d shouted them too many times, his body and mind trained to follow a series of protocols when under threat.

It was only when the figure raised his own gun that Braden caught half the man’s face in the light. He had the sense of height if not strength. Of shaking hands and glazed eyes pinned on him.

Then there was no time for anything but spinning to push Nora to the ground as the weapon sparked in the dark, the silencer creating a muffled thump against the backdrop of the tide rolling onto the sand beyond the walk street.

He felt the impact of the pavement as it reverberated through Nora’s body. He rolled in front of her, on his feet in seconds, wanting to mark the position of the person who had just tried to kill him.

The man was gone.

Braden turned to Nora, back on her feet. “Do you have your service weapon on you?”

She shook her head.

“Go upstairs,” he commanded, throwing her the keys, still scanning the area in case the guy came back.

“I’m not leaving — ”

“That wasn’t a request, Nora.”

Her eyes flashed, but she turned to go. He had no doubt that the conversation wasn’t over, but their training had taught them the importance of timing. He watched her climb the steps, then moved slowly to the alley between buildings.

He made his way cautiously through the narrow space, the stucco apartment buildings rising on either side, blocking out the moonlight. But the alley was clear, and when he emerged onto the walk street he already knew he’d lost the shooter.

He did his due diligence anyway, moving down both sides of the street, looking into all the carports and alleys, anywhere a druggie might hide. Because he knew the look of an addict, and the guy who’d tried to kill him definitely fit the bill.

Which didn’t meant that it was random. The guy had been waiting.

He thought about Cletis Brown. His questioning of Brown was the only thing he could think of that might lead someone to try and silence him. That or word had gotten out that he’d had the parking lot ticket tested for prints before he’d resigned.

Either way, someone was onto him. And they’d put Nora in danger.

That was the part that caused fury to flood his body like adrenaline. They could come for him. He expected it.

But they would pay for putting Nora in harm’s way.

He headed back to the apartment, his mind already working the problem of Nora. He was out of time. he would have to tell her now. About all of it. There was no other way.

But first he had to get her the hell out of here.

He stopped at the bottom of the steps and pulled out his phone, then dialed Locke. The other man answered on the second ring.

Locke’s greeting was short. “What do you need?”

“A plane,” Braden said. “I need a plane.”