Deputy Marshal Butler nodded.
Kira headed for the door.
Luca grabbed his envelope. “Me too.” He nodded. “Marshal. Judge.” As quickly as he could, he gathered his things and made his way through the receptionist’s area to the hall outside.
Just in time to see Kira turn the corner and disappear out of sight.
Too late.
Luca caught up to her by the rear exit door, where he watched her hammer the button for the door with her index finger. “Dr. Yassan?”
She glanced over at him but said nothing.
“What are you doing here?”
The door swung open, and she frowned at him. “I’ve lived here for a few years. What are you doing here?”
As if she knew he had only moved here recently. “I have a lot of questions. Maybe we could go out for coffee and talk about?—”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She stepped outside into the parking lot, red shade trees around the perimeter.
Well, at least she wasn’t here in order to stalk him.
He didn’t want to stare at her, but all that long, dark hair reflected different shades of red and brown in the overhead light. She wore a slim white blouse with no sleeves, tucked into high-waisted black pants. Tall red heels on her feet. Makeup understated. Fancy purse.
He was suddenly very glad he had worn a suit today and not his usual jeans and shirt. Even if he shopped from the higher-end section of the Western wear store, he still drove an older-model truck. Not the kind of thing a woman like her rode in.
“When I decided to live here, I had no idea where you were.” He softened his tone. “I didn’t even know that you’d survived what happened.” His gaze drifted to the scar.
“Thank you for drawing attention to it. Again.” She turned to the street and stepped off the curb. Luca followed her, unwilling to let her get away another time. “I’m sure whatever overlap there is between us on this job, we can be professionals about it.” She lifted her chin and headed for the center of the lot.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to point out that you have a scar.” He touched the outside of her arm with the hand holding the hot cup of coffee, keeping it careful and gentle. “I have one as well from the same day.”
“Then you know what it’s like to be constantly reminded of something you would rather forget.”
“Was it so bad?” He’d thought there were some sparks between them, but once she’d taken the flash drive from his pocket, all that had gone out the window in the face of mission security.
“Like I said, I’d rather not be reminded of it.” She beeped the locks on a gray compact and walked away.
Kira didn’t look back at him or that long hair he had pulled back in a ponytail. No longer the military soldier, now he was a handsome man in a suit. But she wasn’t sure if that change was a good or a bad thing.
She pulled her three-year-old Mazda out of the court parking lot and onto the street, between an SUV and a mom van. Whatever she might’ve thought about Luca Saxon and the hero he had seemed to be on the day she met him, he wasn’t that man anymore.
If he’d ever been.
The first thing he’d mentioned was money. As if getting paid was his only reason for being there, and not helping the Marshals with a high-profile operation. She was more intrigued by the patient’s condition and the treatment he was going to receive than how big the offer in her envelope might be.
At the first stoplight, she used the dash screen to call an old contact. Jordan Witherspoon had worked for the CIA for more than twenty years, and in the short time Kira had been one of their assets, Jordan had become a friend. Someone she was determined not to lose contact with.
“Hello?” Jordan answered.
Kira gripped the steering wheel, trying to squeeze her frustration out on the hard plastic. “It’s me. Can you talk?”
There was a faint click, and she said, “The line is secure.”
Kira let out a big sigh.
“What happened?” Jordan asked. “I haven’t heard any chatter in your neck of the Colorado woods.”