Page 55 of Laura's Truth

“Not waiting.” She reached back and pulled down the zipper that ran from her shoulder blades to the end of her spine. Only the thin straps kept her dress from falling to the floor and giving him a full view of the lingerie she’d splurged on this afternoon. “Not talking.”

“I need to know what happened,” he blurted. “You were right.”

“Right now?”

He nodded.

She should’ve known. More, she knew better than to push aside the mission for the sake of temptation. They were role-playing the husband and wife thing and the natural chemistry enhanced the act. The adrenaline of squeaking through that encounter, of saving Aziz—she had to believe they’d saved him—was something better managed with a clear head and a concise conversation. It wasn’t wise to let loose her passion for a dangerous man she didn’t really know.

Except, watching Drew’s cautious approach, staring at the open collar of his formal white shirt while he settled in the chair at the desk, she thought she knew him well enough for tonight.

She knew the things that mattered. Whatever he’d had to do, she didn’t blame him for surviving. The world happened. Bad things happened because good and bad people made mistakes out of greed or charity, joy or despair. Circumstances didn’t define people of character and integrity.

He had both in spades.

Laura trusted her well-honed instincts. She trusted him, despite the questions and skeletons lurking in his past. He’d shown her time and again he had a code of honor anchored to a solid moral foundation. Whatever actions he’d been forced to take hadn’t killed the root of whatever made him a good man.

“You went out to the lobby,” he prompted.

“Yes, I went out,” she repeated, “per the plan.” She slid out of her strappy heels, the sparkles on the straps glinting in the light. Drawing up her sore ankle, she started to rub at the achy spots.

“Here,” Drew scooted forward on the rolling chair and held out his hand for her foot. “Keep talking.”

It was a challenge with his hands on her skin. “It’s not as bad as last night. The ache is right… there.”

“I’ve found it.”

Had he ever. It was as if he’d flipped a release valve. Her whole body seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. “Whoa. Thanks.”

“Hackett,” he said, his voice curt.

“He was still in the lobby, watching Aziz and everyone who came within arm’s reach of his entourage. When Hackett moved in, I couldn’t intercept Aziz as planned.” She paused for another long sigh of relief. Drew’s hands were pure magic. “Then I caught sight of Hackett’s gun.”

“He gave up on the assassin.” Drew’s eyebrows pulled together in a small scowl aimed at her foot.

“Just like you said he would. I couldn’t get a clear shot at Hackett, so I pulled the fire alarm.”

“You made him miss.”

She shrugged. “It was the only option. The chaos must have been too much for Aziz, though. While they were evacuating, he clutched at his chest and slumped to the ground.”

“His heart should be fine. He’s not much older than me.”

“Stranger things have happened.” Had definitely happened, if she only counted events since finding Drew in the City Market. “I should have just shot Hackett.”

“Now you sound like me.”

“That’s not such a bad thing, you know.” Thinking more clearly now that blind desire had been dialed down a bit by calm discussion and his comforting massage of her ankle, she realized how much she meant it. “You have more than a few good reasons to want him dead.”

“Did you hit your head tonight?”

“Stop. I feel almost normal again.” She held his gaze for a long minute, memorizing those serious blue eyes. “What now?”

“We wait for an update from Ross.” He tilted his head toward the phone on the desk. “They’ll let us know when they catch Hackett.”

“I should’ve followed him, but Aziz collapsed and…” She paused, gathering her thoughts, weighing the impact. “I figured you wanted Aziz to live more than you wanted Hackett to die.”

He kept his eyes cast down at her foot, but she caught the telltale twitch in the muscles of his jaw, the fleeting tension in his hands that transmitted to her foot. Unsure how to interpret it, the heavy silence pressed in on her. “Was I wrong?”