Chapter 8 #2
She picked up the biscuit, seemingly more to satisfy him than because she wanted it. She took one bite, chewed carefully, and then took another.
Jasper reached for his coffee and nodded toward the notebook. “How’s work going?”
“I’ve been staring at that heading for twenty minutes.”
“Agency notification protocol?”
“It’s even less entertaining than it sounds.”
“I believe it.”
She set down the biscuit and flexed her bandaged hand.
“I need to decide whether to notify my supervisor about the attack. Technically, because I’m on assignment and the Vance papers are in my custody, any security incident involving me or the materials should be reported.
The police report makes it worse. If I don’t notify my boss and she finds out through another channel, I could be accused of withholding information. ”
“And if you notify the wrong person?”
She went still for a second. “Then I may be telling whoever sent that man exactly where I am.”
He didn’t soften the truth by arguing.
Her mouth tightened. “I hate that both of those things are true.”
“Truth is inconvenient that way.”
“That sounds like something you say when you don’t have a better answer.”
He took another sip of coffee. “It means I’m avoiding offering an answer you don’t want to hear.”
Some of the guardedness eased from her face. “Do you think I should report it?”
“I think you should decide who you trust inside the Agency before you send anything through official channels.”
“That sounds like a no.”
“It’s a voice, not a veto.”
Her eyes narrowed, but the expression lacked heat. “You’re enjoying that clause too much.”
He grinned slightly. “Maybe.”
She picked up the coffee and took a sip. Her eyes closed for the briefest moment, and something in his chest loosened because she liked it. He’d remembered how she took it. It was a small thing, but small things had become unreasonably important where Katherine Townsend was concerned.
“I don’t know who I trust inside the Agency,” she admitted.
“That’s the problem. My direct supervisor either signed off on the reclassification or failed to notice it.
The Chief of History Staff could have routed it away from me, but that would be unusual without a reason.
An Associate Deputy Director could have done it without leaving much of a trail.
If I report the attack, someone senior enough to bury a flag may learn that I survived last night. If they haven’t already.”
“I doubt the assassin reported his failure.”
Her eyes widened. “You think he’s keeping it underwraps?”
“Professionals don’t check in until they’ve completed the assignment. Failure makes him look incompetent. If he believes he still has a chance to complete the assignment, he’ll delay reporting in.”
She visibly swallowed. “Which means he’ll keep trying.”
“I’ll handle him. He won’t get to you.”
Her gaze stayed locked on his for a long moment. “Your confidence is reassuring.”
He raised a brow. “Yet you sound skeptical.”
She drew in a long, slow breath and released it even slower, as if thinking it through. “I barely know you, and I’ve never been shot at before.”
“And?”
“And I’m processing.”
He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. His gaze was unwavering as he met her eyes. “Fair enough, but I’m confident because I know how to hunt down and stop predators.”
Another of those probing gazes. Another deep breath. “The police won’t be able to find him, will they?”
Jasper shook his head. “Not if he’s a professional, and I doubt the CIA sends anything but.”
Her gaze dropped to the stun baton. After a moment, she nodded. “But you’ll stop him.”
“Yes.” He reached over and stole a piece of bacon.
Priss protested. Katherine took another bite of biscuit. “I don’t have any choice but to trust you.”
The bacon was the right level of crispy. “You always have a choice, Katherine, but trusting me is the right move. You let me worry about the assassin and you handle the reporting.”
“I need a way to report what happened that won’t compromise classified information, trigger internal alarms, or get me fired.”
“Easy.”
She scoffed. “Oh, really?”
“Report the attack in a narrow way. No Cinder or Vance details beyond what’s already part of your assignment.
Something like, ‘I was the victim of a home invasion while on temporary assignment. Local law enforcement is investigating. No classified material was compromised.’ That satisfies the existence of the incident without handing them the fact that we know it was a targeted assassination attempt. ”
She shuddered but nodded. “That’s technically true.”
“You say that like it’s a misdemeanor.”
“In my profession, technically true is where many sins live.”
“Then write it and don’t send it until we know more.”
She looked back at the blank page. “I’m not used to waiting.” Priss chose that moment to stretch across Katherine’s thigh, reaching for the plate of food.
Katherine gently shifted her away. “I forgot her favorite treats. She’s going to be incorrigible without them.”
“Rightfully so. If I can, I’ll figure out a way to get them.”
“You would do that in the midst of everything else?”
“Priss needs you to be functional, and you need her to be cooperative.”
This time the smile came fully enough to make the room feel warmer.
It was brief, and it didn’t erase the shadows under her eyes or the tightness around her mouth, but it was real.
Jasper let himself look at it for one second longer than he should have, then shifted his attention to her hand. “Your bandage is coming loose.”
She tucked the hand closer to her lap. “It’s fine.”
“Your definition of fine continues to be unreliable.”
“I showered. It got wet.”
“I can fix it.”
Her expression turned amused. “You don’t have to keep patching me up.”
“I know.”
“Yet here we are.”
“You’re hard on bandages.”
“You should see what I do to footnotes.”
He huffed a quiet laugh and retrieved a box of bandages and gauze from his cabinet. “Let me see.”
She hesitated for a moment before giving him her hand, palm up.
He moved to the couch, and she shifted slightly to make room for him.
The office was quiet except for the faint hum of the computers and Priss’s steady purr, which started the moment Jasper got close.
The cat rubbed her head on his arm and showed him her big eyes.
“If I can’t get your treats,” he told her, “I’ll steal some of the chicken strips Mack has hidden in the back of the fridge for the stir-fry he plans to make this weekend.”
Priss rubbed against his arm again. “Tyrant,” Katherine murmured.
The cut looked clean, no new bleeding, but the skin around it was irritated. He worked slowly, aware of the warmth of her hand in his, the scent of her citrus soap, and the way she watched his face instead of his hands.
He replaced the gauze and taped it down neatly. “You did a good job,” he said.
“On destroying the bandage?”
“On surviving.”
Her throat moved. “I keep remembering the moment I froze. I hate it.” Her fingers flexed lightly against his before she seemed to realize it.
“I can catalog every decision from the second I heard the doorknob. I can explain the window, the lamp, the bathroom, the gun. I can tell myself freezing is a physiological response and still hate that my body chose it.”
“You fended him off with a book.”
“It doesn’t feel like enough.”
“If you want a formal performance review, I’m giving you high marks.”
A weak laugh escaped her. “That’s generous.” She looked at their hands, at his thumb resting near the edge of the tape. “You’re incredibly calm about all of this.”
“A clever facade. I’m not calm about it in the least. I hate it as much as you do.”
Her gaze lifted.
He hadn’t meant to say it, but the words were out, and he wasn’t going to retrieve them. “I’m pissed as hell and even my run this morning hasn’t taken the edge off. You scared ten years off my life last night. That doesn’t mean I’m giving in to either the fear or the rage. It’s fuel, that’s all.”
Her lips parted, but she didn’t answer right away. The way she looked at him changed, as if the words had crossed some line she hadn’t known they were approaching. “Jasper.”
A knock sounded at the door. Jasper swiveled to see Sebastian.
“Okay if he comes in?” Jasper asked Katherine. “He’s got a lead for me on the intruder.”
She nodded. “Yes, of course.”
Jasper set the bandages aside and opened the door.
“Morning,” Sebastian said to him and Katherine.
“Sorry to interrupt.” He turned to Jasper.
“A traffic cam caught a dark sedan on the road in front of the library twice yesterday, both times moving slowly. Mud on the rear bumper and no front plate visible. Partial rear plate on the second pass, two letters and a number.”
Katherine immediately reached for her notebook. Jasper went to his office chair at the desk of monitors. “Let’s bring it up.”
“CB and Mack are in the conference room. Let’s review it there so everyone’s on the same page.”
“Do I know you?” Katherine asked Sebastian, rising from the couch as she studied his face. “I mean outside of last night. You look familiar.”
Sebastian grimaced. “Afraid my mug has been all over the news and social media frequently.”