Patriot Threat. Steve Berry

forging ahead with unfailing resolve when colleagues and adversaries chose to opt out.

      Yet each acquisition was carefully and painstakingly researched, every possible angle examined to the nth degree.

      She could recall the times she’d awakened alone in their bed in the late-night hours, only to find him closeted in his home office studying graphs and projections on-screen.

      Then she would go to him, ease the tension in tight shoulder and neck muscles, and suggest he needed sleep…only to have him smile, press save and pull her onto his lap. Sleep, as such, had rarely happened for a while.

      Dear heaven…why were such memories surfacing now?

      It was madness. A brief moment of insanity she immediately banished to the nether regions of hell.

      ‘I suggest you tell me precisely what Teresa will expect of me.’ Her voice sounded calm, even to her own ears…amazing, given she was an emotional mess.

      ‘The pleasure of your company. One-on-one time.’ His eyes speared her own—dark, enigmatic. ‘She occasionally lunches with a few close friends, and I imagine she will delight in having you join her.’

      Not a difficult ask. She held his gaze, silently wishing it wasn’t so hard to do so. ‘I’ll be happy to fit in with whatever Teresa wants me to do.’

      A woman Gianna held in high esteem, whose compassion, genuine affection and loyalty had helped fill the void left by losing her own mother at a young age.

      The only stumbling block was Raúl himself, for spending any time in his company would be difficult, to say the least.

      Yet a few weeks wasn’t a lifetime, she rationalised. Primarily, her purpose was to fulfil Teresa’s wish to be able to say goodbye in person.

      Time to focus on the prosaic…and she did it by forking delicate morsels of food without tasting a thing.

      Soon the meal would conclude and she could leave, retrieve her car from the shopping complex and retreat to the sanctuary of her apartment.

      If only it were that simple.

      Yet nothing about the man seated opposite could be categorised as simple. For how was it possible for her to feel as if she’d been caught up in a sensual whirlpool when she’d vowed to hate him?

      It didn’t make sense.

      So? a tiny voice taunted. Why waste time and energy attempting to solve the impossible?

      Raúl ate with evident enjoyment, and she found it annoying that he could appear so totally at ease when she felt as if she was caught up in an emotional maelstrom.

      ‘Perhaps you’d care to enlighten me about your life in the intervening three years?’

      ‘Specifically?’

      ‘Insignificant personal details.’

      ‘Such as?’

      Oh, spit it out, why don’t you? ‘Your current lover.’

      His eyes darkened measurably, and she glimpsed a muscle bunch at the edge of his jaw. ‘Do you particularly want to cover old ground?’

      ‘Not really.’ Amazing how much it still hurt. ‘I think it’s reasonable to ask if I’m likely to be confronted by a woman in your life.’

      ‘That isn’t a consideration.’

      Which didn’t answer the question.

      ‘Sierra?’

      ‘A brief testament to her superb acting and my poor judgement well before I met you,’ Raúl insisted silkily. ‘And never afterwards.’

      It surprised her how much she wanted to believe him. Yet the evidence was stacked heavily against him.

      It was a relief when the meal concluded. She declined coffee, then retrieved a few notes to cover her share and placed them on the table.

      ‘You choose to insult me?’

      His voice was silky soft and dangerous. Something Gianna elected to ignore.

      ‘Not at all.’ She stood to her feet, and felt a moment’s reservation when Raúl followed suit. ‘I imagine we’ll be in touch?’ she offered, with the utmost politeness.

      She didn’t wait for his answer as she turned from the table, acknowledging the maître d’ with a faint smile as she exited the restaurant into the main lobby.

      The sense of relief was enormous, and she was conscious of the click of her stiletto heels on the tiled floor as she crossed to the automatic front doors.

      The concierge inclined his head as she passed through into the spacious courtyard, and she’d almost reached the overhead pedestrian bridge when Raúl joined her.

      He had the tread of a cat, and she sent him a level look as she kept walking. ‘We’ve already said goodnight.’

      ‘I don’t recall goodnight being mentioned.’ His voice held drawled cynicism.

      ‘How remiss of me,’ Gianna said sweetly. ‘Buenas noches.’

      Traffic flowed freely on the dual carriageway beneath them. In all probability patrons heading towards the parking facilities offered by the many restaurants situated in the immediate vicinity.

      ‘There’s no need for you to play the gentleman,’ she voiced as they reached the upper level of the shopping complex. ‘I’m perfectly capable of reaching my car unaided.’

      ‘Of course you are.’

      He followed her onto the escalator, and when she stepped onto ground level he accompanied her down to the underground parking area.

      She ignored him and crossed to the bay containing her small Lexus sedan, released the remote locking mechanism, slid in behind the wheel and ignited the engine.

      ‘Satisfied?’

      Far from it, he admitted. But she would keep.

      He removed a card from his pocket and handed it to her through the open window. ‘My cellphone number.’

      The overhead fluorescent lighting threw his features into shadow, making his expression difficult to define.

      ‘Thanks.’

      The window slid closed, and she lifted a hand in a polite wave as she sent the car towards the exit ramp.

      With care she entered the stream of traffic, turned left towards the roundabout, then circled back along the southbound carriageway leading towards Main Beach.

      It wasn’t until she reached the solitude of her apartment that she allowed herself to relax, and she scooped up the fluff-ball patiently awaiting her arrival.

      ‘Hi, there, gorgeous.’ She stroked the soft fur beneath his chin. ‘Miss me?’

      His response was to curl his head into the palm of her hand as she made for the kitchen to feed him.

      When he was happily eating, she removed her stilettos and crossed to her bedroom, where she discarded her clothes, showered. Then, attired in her night wear, she took a cup of tea into the room she’d converted into her home office, set up her laptop, and worked until Jazz leapt up onto the desk in protest.

      ‘Yes, I know. Time to call it a night.’

      She lifted both arms and stretched, felt the stiffness of neck and shoulder muscles, then saved her work, closed down, placed Jazz in his sleep basket and entered her bedroom.

      It was late, much later than she usually chose to retire, and she slid beneath the bedcovers, switched off the bedside lamp…aware that within minutes the adorable fluff-ball would disdain his sleep basket, enter her room, and leap onto the foot of the bed, where he’d settle comfortably and remain until morning.

      Raúl’s