One Night in Weaver.... Allison Leigh

America. They didn’t know they’d really been there to feed intel to the authorities about a local drug king who’d branched out into human trafficking. Not even Hollins-Winword’s considerable resources had been able to prove that their covers had been blown, a circumstance that would have laid their murders squarely on the drug king’s doorstep.

      Instead, the entire situation was still surrounded with question marks even all these months later. The recent discovery that the drug king had also been funding suspected terrorists had only upped the stakes where McGregor was concerned.

      “If your father hadn’t been killed when you were a pup, you wouldn’t have signed on with us?” Tristan’s gaze was steady. “You honestly believe that?”

      Seth grimaced. His father’s unavenged death when he was eighteen still haunted him, though after twenty years, he mostly managed not to think about it.

      Thankfully, Tristan left the subject of Seth’s dad alone. “We have bullets recovered from their bodies that we haven’t been able to trace back to a specific weapon, much less Jason’s. That’s it. That leaves us with his memories. Locked up in his head or willfully hidden away. When that question is resolved, then we’ll take our next step. In the meantime, we got him back from the Feds only by calling in a boatload of favors. I don’t want anything screwing it up or he’ll get yanked back under government detention for God knows how long while they figure out what to do with him, and we’ll lose any chance we’ve ever had of learning the truth of what really happened in Central America.”

      “Maybe that’s where he belongs,” Seth said under his breath. “Whatever he ended up doing down there, he started out with two partners who were killed. And you’re harboring him in a comfy little safe house right here in Weaver.”

      “You were friends with Jon and Manny—”

      “Were being the operative word.”

      Tristan set his mug on the chest-high fireplace mantel behind them, clamped his hand over Seth’s shoulder and guided him out of the room and to the front door. “Go home,” he advised quietly. “Get your head back on straight. The likelihood of there ever being a public court case about this situation is slim to none.” The federal government would never allow some things—such as their off-the-books arrangement with Hollins-Winword to handle some of their dirty work—to see the light of day.

      “So he just walks,” Seth said between his teeth.

      Tristan’s grip hardened. He was a good twenty-five years older than Seth, but there was little doubt the man could have taken Seth—former US Army Ranger or not—right to the ground if he so chose. At least, he could have done a good job trying. “If he’s innocent, yes.” Tristan lowered his hand. “You’ve got the choice, Seth. You want to leave the organization, say the word.”

      “I could take everything I know to the media.”

      Tristan snorted, his eyes filling with honest-to-God mirth. “Honor runs thicker in your veins than blood does, kid. Why else do you think I recruited you out of the Rangers?”

      “There’s no honor in letting a man get away with murder.”

      “He hasn’t gotten away with it yet, has he?” Tristan’s voice was smooth. “Until I got him transferred here to my watch, he was wearing leg irons in a military prison. But that cozy safe house you’re all pissed off about now still doesn’t unlock from the inside.” He pulled open the door.

      The soft, feminine gasp that greeted them didn’t stump the older man for even a second as his face creased into a wide, welcoming smile. “Dr. Templeton. My wife was just wondering when you’d be arriving.” He stepped back, his arm wide in invitation. “Come in. Can’t have the maid of honor standing out on the front porch.”

      Hayley Templeton stared back at them above the large gift-wrapped box she was holding, her dark brown eyes looking like melted chocolate in the dwindling sunset. But her gaze instantly flicked away from Seth’s like a skittish firefly.

      It had been that way ever since that night at Colbys several months ago.

      Her soft lips stretched into a smile that wasn’t entirely steady. “Mr. Clay,” she greeted. “I’m so sorry I’m late.” Her gaze flicked to Seth’s again. “I, was, um, was tied up with a new patient.”

      “It’s Tristan, Hayley. I’ve told you that before. And patients come first. We all certainly understand that.” He looked over his shoulder for a moment when his wife called his name. He lifted his hand in acknowledgment before turning back to Hayley. His gaze took in Seth, as well. “Seth, before you head out, help the doctor here with that gift of hers and make sure she has a drink, would you?” Then he excused himself, his easy smile still in place.

      Hayley’s, though, turned even more ragged at the edges and her eyes still wouldn’t meet Seth’s for more than a nanosecond. “I’m a big girl,” she said quickly. “I don’t need help with the gift.”

      “Much less getting a drink.”

      Her cheeks turned pink. “A gentleman wouldn’t remind me of that.”

      “I never said I was a gentleman.” But his father hadn’t raised him to be a complete cretin, either, despite their male-only household. “Don’t worry so much, Doc. You had a few too many that night,” he said with a shrug. “Plenty of us have done the same at one time or another.” Without waiting for permission, he lifted the box out of her hands and turned to carry it inside.

      “Well, I don’t make a habit of it,” she muttered as she closed the door and hurried to keep up with him. “Not drinking too much and certainly not going home with strange men.”

      “Never said you did.” He glanced at her. “If you had bothered to return either of the messages I left you after that night, I might have had a chance to reassure you of that.” He entered the crowded living room, set the box on the floor next to the other gifts that overflowed from the low table in front of the couch where Jane and Casey were seated and edged back out of the room.

      Hayley was waiting where he’d left her on the perimeter of the room. Nobody else seemed to have noticed her arrival, but he was still more than a little surprised when she turned and trotted after him as he headed back to the foyer and the front door. “Seth, wait.”

      He stopped, turned and raised his brows.

      She looked pained. “I should have.” Her lips pressed together for a moment. “Returned your message.” She quickly looked over her shoulder. “Could we take this outside, at least?”

      “Don’t want the masses to know you socialize with a lowly security guard?”

      She gave him a look. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

      “Then what’s your problem, Doc? You hightailed it out of my place before the sun came up the next morning.”

      “I was embarrassed!” Her voice had risen a bit and she looked annoyed again. She ran her hand over her head, smoothing back her ponytail even though it already looked perfectly smooth to him.

      Irritatingly, his memory filled in just how silky it was.

      Then she caught his sleeve and pulled him out the front door and onto the porch. She closed the door behind them and immediately let go to move several feet away, where she crossed her arms.

      No point in remembering how silky her hair was when she wanted nothing to do with him.

      Even though they were outside, she still lowered her voice. “I was embarrassed,” she said again. “I’ve never found myself in...in that position before, and I handled it poorly. And I, well, I apologize for that. I meant no offense.”

      He hadn’t been offended.

      Disappointed a little. Maybe more than a little.

      But he was thirty-eight years old and he told himself he was too jaded to get upset over a woman. Particularly one as beautiful