Page 6 of Fear No Evil

Farid was dead. He couldn’t hurt her again. How many times did she have to tell herself that?

Maggie checked her watch‍—the same one that had saved her in Morocco and even in Venezuela, for that matter. Perfect. She would arrive at the scheduled meeting exactly on time because the United Nations Headquarters was straight ahead of her, with all those colorful flags snapping in the hot breeze. Who wouldn’t be inspired by the visible sign of countries working toward a better world? And here was the tall, steel building she was looking for, labeled with a brass placard that read:U.S. Department of the Treasury. That, of course, was a front.

As she marched toward the double glass doors, Maggie took her CAC card from her purse while checking the door’s glass reflection to confirm she wasn’t being followed. She swiped her card under the scanner, and the doors popped open. The coolmarble foyer stood empty, apart from a security guard who stared at her entrance.

Standing at five-feet-nine-inches tall, with a face she’d inherited from Miss Venezuela 1990, her mother, Maggie resembled a fashion model more than a case officer, especially now that she’d lost seven pounds from all the running she’d been doing.

“Afternoon, miss. Can I help you?”

“Maggie Ellis. I have a meeting with Deputy Director Hinton.”

The portly guard consulted the screen of his laptop, sliding a finger down it until he saw her name. “Oh yes. Well then, you know the drill, ma’am. Surrender any electronics or weapons, look into the retina scan, then come on through the metal detector.”

While the guard politely averted his gaze, Maggie reached under her hem to withdraw the Ruger from its holster. Vulnerability assailed her as she placed it in the plastic tub with her purse. She’d left her phone in the hotel so no one could track her movements. Bending over the retina scan, which recognized her emerald-green eyes, she was cleared to step through the metal detector next, then collect her purse. The guard would hang on to her Ruger for the time being.

“Have a good meeting, Miss Ellis. Head to the eighth floor. Turn left off the elevator, and it’s the last door on your left.”

“Thanks.” Could the guard tell her stomach was full of butterflies?

Pull yourself together, Maggie!Her heart trotted as she proceeded toward the elevators.It’s not like you’re going to the electric chair.

Even so, by the time she reached the eighth floor, a cold sweat filmed her upper lip, and she was hoping she still had time to use the restroom. She bolted out of the elevator as it opened,turning left per the guard’s instructions and colliding with a very solid individual coming up the hall.

It took everything in her not to startle like a cat with its claws out, fur spiked. “Jake!”

Gentle blue eyes regarded her from a height of well over six feet. Not even a trace of surprise lifted his dark-brown eyebrows, suggesting he was expecting her. “Lena.”

The way he said her nickname stirred up dormant feelings. His gaze glossed over her ponytail, swept the length of her body, then rose again, centering on the thin scar that hatched her lower lip, a memento from Morocco. “How are you?” Concern laced his voice.

He couldn’t possibly know about her diagnosis. “I’m great.” She raised her chin to lend assertion to the statement. Then ruined it by adding, “Do you know where the restrooms are?”

He gestured with his chin up the hall behind her. “I’m headed that way right now.”

“Thanks.” She wheeled away, aware that he was watching her stride ahead of him. The solidness of his frame was still imprinted upon her senses. In college, he’d been lean and lanky. But now, dressed in a heather-gray suit with a white shirt and no tie, he looked like an advertisement for the Special Operations, all broad shoulders and muscle-corded neck.

Without glancing back, she pushed into the restroom, determinednotto encounter him again when she came out, but suspecting she was going to.

As she washed her hands a moment later, she noted with dismay the ring on her fourth finger‍—the promise ring Jake had given her. Had he seen it on her? She always wore it when she was stateside because she loved it, but Jake might get the wrong idea.

Wriggling it off, she dropped it into a zippered pocket on her purse. After drying her hands and patting away the nervousperspiration on her face, she blew out a breath and left the bathroom for her meeting.

Please, let me have a new assignment.Another day stuck in the office, and she’d really lose her mind.But am I ready?Squelching the uncertain voice, she left the bathroom.

Jake was not in the hallway. Relieved, Maggie hastened to the office at the end of the corridor. The door on the left stood open, with four men inside, blocking her view out the window, and one of them was Jake. Her heart began to dance a jig.

“Ah, there she is.” Her boss from back home, a burly Black man with a megawatt smile, stepped in her direction with his hand outstretched. “How was the train ride, Maggie?”

“Good, Gordon, thank you.” Her hands were still cool from just washing them. “No delays.”

“Excellent.” Gordon turned and guided her toward the other three. “Let me introduce you to the present company.”

Jake’s gaze folded over her, but he gave no outward sign of knowing her.

“Everyone, this is Magdalena Ellis. Maggie is originally from Venezuela, which is why she’s our top choice for this operation.”

Top choice?Was she headed back to Venezuela?Her mouth went dry, and her palms turned clammy.

“Maggie, you’ve met Deputy Director Hinton before, haven’t you?”