Tall, Dark and Lethal. Dana Marton

easy played a big part in his life. “Look, we need to go someplace safe.”

      “I need to get back to my house.” Her voice now rang with resolution as she reached for the door again, grunting in frustration when it wouldn’t open. “What are you doing? You have to let me go.”

      Clearly, she didn’t have a very good grasp on the situation. “The people who blew up the house are still out there.” He spelled it out for her. To be fair, this was likely the first time she had been shot at with a grenade launcher. He should cut her some slack.

      “Gas explosion,” she said, with full conviction.

      He wished. Wouldn’t that make his life so much simpler? “I don’t think so.” He scanned the street as he drove, looking for the van or any other vehicles or activity. He couldn’t be sure how many men were out there after him. Anyone he’d tangled with in the past would know him enough to come prepared.

      “Nobody is trying to kill us, for crying out loud. What are you? An army veteran? What do they call it?” She furrowed her delicate brows. “Combat fatigue? Is that why you’re so paranoid?”

      Combat fatigue? She was going to put him on the disabled roster? He didn’t think so.

      “Maybe I think someone blew up the damn house on purpose because I saw the bastard aiming his grenade launcher. How is that?” Impatience showed in his words, but he didn’t care. He was supposed to be heading off to an important meeting with Abhi, dammit. A meeting he had put off for too long.

       Or not long enough.

      Had getting in touch with some of his old connections in the field triggered this attack? The timing was a little too close for comfort.

      She was staring at him wide-eyed and speechless. Stayed that way for another full second. Had to be a record. “You—What? Who?”

      “Damned if I know.” He glanced in the rearview mirror. “But we are not going back there until I figure out what’s going on.”

      A few seconds of silence passed while she mulled that over. He expected her to issue another passionate argument for returning. But when she finally spoke, all she said was, “I don’t have clothes on.” And she crossed her arms in front of her.

      Soft, silky skin and barely concealed curves. Just keep looking at the road.

      “I noticed that.” Yes, sir. Certainly had. He cleared his throat before he chanced another glance at her.

      Pink washed over her cheeks.

      Wasn’t she just a surprise and a half? Looked like having her house blown up brought her defenses down.

      His house, too. The full implications fully registered. His hideout. The one place he’d felt sure he would be safe. Where he’d planned on starting over.

      Apparently not. A four-letter word slipped from his mouth with some vehemence.

      She glared at him, but sirens sounding in the distance claimed her attention. “Who wants you dead?” she asked after a minute.

      He considered the endless list in his head as he pulled out of the maze of developments and onto Route 1. The last batch of terrorists he’d tangled with had certainly promised to hunt him down and kill him like a dog. But they were only the latest addition to a large group. His occupation was what you’d call “conflict heavy.”

      “Then again, the who doesn’t list is probably shorter,” she said, without waiting for his answer.

      He bit back a grin. Her griping got on his nerves more often than not, but there was a sassy side to her that he found entertaining. Half the time he wanted her to win a trip to the moon. What he wanted the other half of the time was what kept him up at night.

      Her bedroom was now fixed in his brain. Pink silk sheets. He could have lived without knowing that. Fortunately, he didn’t have much time to ponder it.

      He considered the events of the morning. How much of what he knew and who he was should he share with her? As little as possible. He didn’t think she’d feel better if he told her that the tangos didn’t want him dead—yet. Otherwise they would have hit his bedroom and not the garage.

      Two single garages sat side by side in the front of the duplex, right in the middle. From the speed with which the second explosion followed the first, it was clear to Cade that the hit went straight to the garage and then ignited the C4. Losing that hurt more than losing the house. Not that he thought the tangos knew he had an explosive stash. They just wanted to hit something other than the bedroom and give Cade time to rush outside so they could pick him up in the confusion.

      But he’d seen them in time and made it out. And then, before they could come after him, they had been rocked by the second explosion. Their van was close to the house—just across the road. If Bailey weren’t with him, he could have gone back to check it out. Could be it had sustained damage and was still stuck there.

      Could be they had a backup plan and he would be walking straight into it.

      He pulled the phone from his pocket and checked his missed call. The Colonel, head of the Special Designation Defense Unit. Just the man he needed to talk to. He hit the dial button.

      “Sir, I have a small problem. I need to come in,” he said as soon as the Colonel picked up. “I’m not alone.” He could have dropped Miss Scream-and-Holler off at her nearest friend’s house, but she needed to be read the riot act about the confidentiality of what had gone down this morning. As far as her neighbors would be concerned, the explosion had been a damn gas leak.

      Someone would take care of Bailey to ensure that she was fully aware of the gravity of the situation as well as run a background check on her before they released her. Not that they would find much of interest. He had run a check himself before he had moved into their duplex.

      He would go underground for a while. The SDDU, from which he had recently retired, had safe rooms available on various army bases around the country, as well as safe houses in the civilian world. He’d be directed to one where he could recoup and rearm so he could start figuring out what was going on.

      “I’ve been trying to reach you,” the Colonel said, his tone grimmer than hell in a heat wave. And he hadn’t even heard all the bad news for the morning yet.

      “Somebody just blew up my house.” Straight to the point always worked best with the Colonel. “Any chance of getting a list of everyone I’ve done business with who has entered the country in the past six months?”

      He could hear the man draw a slow breath. “You bet. Not that I can think of any off the top of my head.”

      That didn’t bode well. The Colonel kept a close eye on the comings and goings of anyone on their tagged list.

      “Could be they came through the southern border without us knowing, or through one of the ports,” Cade said, thinking out loud.

      “It’s a possibility,” he acknowledged. A moment of silence passed. “A month out of the action and you’re looking for trouble already? I thought you said you were going for the quiet life.”

      Cade shifted in his seat. “I was, sir. But it looks like the past isn’t finished with me yet.” The Colonel didn’t need to know that he’d been staging his very last—private—op for weeks. He didn’t want to drag anyone into that with him.

      “How could anyone find you? I don’t even know where you are.”

      An exaggeration. The Colonel knew everything. Or could find out in a hurry. “No idea yet, sir, but I’ll figure it out.”

      When his cover had been blown in Southeast Asia a little over four months ago, and his life further complicated by shrapnel in his lungs, he’d been retired from undercover commando work at the age of forty. A retirement his enemies seemed unwilling to honor. He couldn’t blame them. He’d done some damage in his day.

      But