The Complete Red-Hot And Historical Collection. Kelly Hunter

      She’d watched the interview from behind a one-way mirror, along with the steely-eyed man who oversaw all the sections, and at the end of the interview he’d turned to her and asked if she believed the story West was spinning.

      ‘Do you?’ she’d asked quietly, but hadn’t waited for his answer.

      She cut her work-day short and went to see her grandfather.

      He was in his garden, as usual, pampering runner beans, dahlias, and his fifty-year-old tortoise, Veronica. He smiled when he saw her.

      ‘Granddaughter.’ The smile dimmed somewhat when he got a good look at her. ‘What gives? Because you are three hours and one day early for our dinner date.’

      ‘It’s been a hard week. I wanted to touch base with my favourite tortoise.’

      She spared a glance for her grandfather’s pond. Yep, there she was. Half out of the pond, neck at full stretch, and beady eyes trained on the latest goings-on. Nothing escaped Veronica.

      ‘Problem at work?’

      ‘There was. But it’s been resolved.’

      ‘To your satisfaction?’

      ‘To the satisfaction of some.’

      ‘But not you?’

      ‘Can’t have everything.’ She’d learned that as a child. ‘Do you think I have abandonment issues?’

      Her grandfather’s eyes narrowed. ‘That’s quite a question …’

      ‘Are you likely to need tea, coffee or any other fortifying beverage before giving me an answer?’

      ‘Tea and cake might help it along some.’

      He gathered up his walking stick and headed inside and Rowan followed. Not until they were both settled at the little kitchen table by the window did he return to the question.

      ‘Who let you down?’

      ‘A man. A young, impulsive one.’

      ‘A good man?’

      ‘Yes.’ It was true, even though the word burned on her tongue. ‘In many ways … yes. He’s a little reckless.’

      ‘You’re a little cautious.’

      ‘I’m not cautious at all. I just like to plan ahead and cover my bases.’

      He smiled slightly. ‘And everyone else’s.’

      Okay, maybe he had a point. ‘Remember how I mentioned that we were bringing someone in from deep undercover? His name’s Jared West and he’s the one I’m having trouble with.’

      ‘In a personal sense or a professional one?’

      Rowan sipped at her coffee. ‘Both. Although he no longer works for ASIS. He finished up a couple of weeks ago—as soon as his debrief was done.’

      ‘How long was he undercover for?’

      ‘Two years. He was in the employ of an international arms dealer.’

      ‘Antonov?’ Her grandfather huffed a dry laugh. ‘He brought down the Antonov operation?’

      ‘Yes. And left Antonov’s son exposed. The boy was placed with his mother, but she couldn’t cope with the legacy Antonov left behind. I think Jared relocated the child. Put him somewhere safe. That’s what I’d like to think. But I don’t know.’

      Rowan shrugged and traced doodles on the tablecloth with her fingertip.

      ‘I got too close to him, Grandfather. I let myself care for the man and then he went no contact. He just … disappeared without a word and I didn’t know where he was.’ Her heart thumped hard. ‘I hate that.’

      ‘I know you do. Did Jared West have a reason for going no contact?’

      ‘You mean besides not wanting anyone to know what he was up to?’

      ‘Plausible deniability, Rowan. You know how it’s done. This way you know nothing. And you continue to know nothing.’

      ‘And then there’s what would be best for the child. I know it was playing on his mind. The child needed witness protection. A new life. We could have arranged it.’

      ‘Although possibly not to Jared West’s satisfaction,’ her grandfather said dryly.

      ‘Possibly not.’

      Her grandfather regarded her solemnly. ‘Did he know that you might react badly to not knowing where he was? Did you tell him about your upbringing in those early years?’

      ‘I— No. I don’t really talk about that.’

      ‘Maybe you should.’

      Rowan picked up her coffee mug and took a deep gulp. ‘So I’m asking again,’ she continued doggedly. ‘In this case, given what I’ve told you, do you think I have abandonment issues?’

      ‘Yes. You developed them as a child and for a time you let them rule you. But you’re not a child now.’

      ‘I sent him away.’

      ‘So get him back.’

      ‘I suggested he stay away.’

      ‘Can a person not admit that they were wrong?’

      ‘Was I wrong?’

      ‘Rowan. I’m not all-knowing and all-seeing, no matter how wise I like to think I am. Only you can answer that one.’

      Jared hadn’t given up. He never gave up when he wanted something badly enough. He figured it would come as no surprise to the director that he would give her a couple of days to cool off and then he’d be back. With food that might tempt her to stop and take a bite. With another apology—a bigger one—and an explanation if she wanted it. With promises if she wanted those, and every intention of keeping them.

      He kept his word.

      She saw him the minute she walked away from the ASIS building at nine p.m. Hard not to, given that he was standing there leaning against his car. She’d agreed to give him five minutes of her time. Or Sam had agreed on Rowan’s behalf. Either way, she headed towards him without hesitation.

      ‘I probably have half an hour left in me before my brain gives up in exhaustion,’ she said quietly. ‘Would you like to join me at the Marble Bar?’

      It was a white-collar work haunt, connected to an international hotel chain, and it was just around the corner. The booths were private and the lights were low. They could have a relatively private conversation there—of a sort.

      ‘Sure.’

      He opened the car door for her, wanting nothing more than to gather her up, wrap his arms around her and bury his head in the curve of her neck and stay there until she softened. Her body would remember him. He could coax capitulation from her, he was sure.

      Instead he kept his manners in place and tried to ignore the silent simmer between them as they made their way to the bar and found a booth and placed their drinks order. Decaf coffee for them both. He added a couple of side dishes for good measure. Lamb pieces in a yoghurt sauce. Rice balls.

      ‘I made a promise,’ he began. ‘To a seven-year-old. When the world around us was burning I promised that I would look out for him and I have. I will continue to look out for him from afar. I’d rather you didn’t ask, but if you do I will tell you everything.’

      ‘I’m not asking.’ She held his gaze. ‘The case is closed.’

      ‘Which kind of just leaves the promises I want to make to you going forward.’

      He watched as tears gathered in her eyes and threatened to fall. She looked utterly miserable, and so far away from him in that moment that she broke his heart.

      ‘Don’t