Her Hidden Truth. Debra Webb

Even Casey had to see that. They couldn’t expect anything else under the circumstances. Casey didn’t have to say it and he wouldn’t. Thomas Casey was a man of few words. No one really knew him, except maybe Lucas.

      “I think I’ve got it.” Vince reached for the door handle. He’d pack and get on the road before dawn. He wanted to see firsthand as soon as possible that Kat was safe.

      “Don’t try to intercept the target until she’s alone,” Casey suggested. “We have no way of knowing her status. She may fully believe she’s the enemy she was assigned to infiltrate. That would be the best case scenario. If,” he went on grimly, “the implant has malfunctioned and the code doesn’t trigger the right response, you could be putting yourself in serious jeopardy.”

      Vince met that intense blue gaze. “I won’t approach while she’s with the others unless there’s no other window of opportunity.”

      Casey dipped his head in acknowledgment. “If too much risk is involved, back off. We’ll send in an entire team. The CIA won’t like it, but they’ll live with it.”

      “Yes, sir.” Vince nodded to Lucas then climbed out of the vehicle. Before turning away he tapped on the closed window, then waited for it to power down to reveal Lucas’s expectant expression. “Who’s got my back on this one?” Vince asked, just now remembering that he should. Of course, the information would be in the mission profile.

      “Callahan.”

      Perfect. Blue Callahan was the best sharp shooter in the bunch—even if she was a girl. Vince couldn’t help smiling at the irony of the situation.

      “That’s great,” he said to Lucas.

      “Glad you approve.” Lucas started to power up the window but hesitated. “Not that it would have made any difference,” he added pointedly before sending the darkly tinted window the rest of the way up.

      Vince watched as the limousine disappeared down the next block. Lucas Camp was easy to work for. He was straight up and in your face. The director was another story. Vince would never understand Thomas Casey. Just when he thought he had the guy figured out, he goes and says something totally out of character. As though he really cared about the people who worked for him or something.

      Maybe he did. Then again, maybe he just didn’t want to look bad to the Company hotshots breathing down his neck on this one.

      Shaking his head, Vince straddled his Harley. He inserted the key and gave it a quick flick. The perfectly tuned engine roared to life. He could spend a lifetime studying a guy like Casey and never understand what made him tick. But right now he had something much more important to do.

      He had to get close to Kat. Had to keep her safe. Even if she didn’t want him to.

      If she did accept him, it would only be the implant, not the real Kat, he reminded himself. The real Kat had most likely forgotten all about him long ago.

      Vince released the clutch and rocketed toward the street. She might have forgotten, but he would never forget.

      Chapter Two

      The headache was worse today.

      Kat squeezed her eyes shut and tried to banish the pain, but it just wouldn’t go away. She couldn’t remember when it had begun…days ago…a week? It just kept getting worse. The bouts closer together. More intense.

      Forcing her eyes open, she stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Aspirin didn’t help. Nothing helped. She blew out a long, slow breath. She had to pull it together. In three minutes she had to be ready to perform.

      Kat splashed some cool water on her face in the hope of clearing the haze that accompanied the insistent pounding in her brain. That attempt proved useless, as well. She groped blindly for a paper towel. The holder was empty. She muttered her favorite swearword and wiped the moisture from her face the best she could with the backs of her hands. That was the thing about public bathrooms. One could never count on the necessary paper to finish the job.

      Turning her head side to side to check the neatly coiled bun, Kat tucked a stray, fiery red curl behind her ear and smoothed her moist palms over her hair. She studied herself a moment longer than necessary, something about the person staring back at her didn’t sit exactly right, but she couldn’t put her finger on the problem.

      Kat shrugged. Nothing she could do about that, either. She looked herself over again, then, satisfied with what she saw, slipped on the large, black-framed eyeglasses that were part of her disguise. She slid a hand over the jacket of her gray business suit, finding comfort in the tiny bulge in the waistband of her skirt that was for emergency use only. She preferred a 9 mm, but the .38 proved easier to conceal.

      No one was supposed to die today.

      Still, she wasn’t about to go into this without a way to defend herself if things went to hell in a hurry. And that could happen. Another of those things she somehow understood without knowing how.

      Inhaling, then exhaling another bolstering breath, Kat picked up her brown leather briefcase and left the inadequately supplied ladies’ room.

      Two minutes and counting.

      At a quarter of noon, Union Station was crowded. She’d taken the time this morning as she entered D.C.’s famous train gateway to the capital to note the neoclassical facade. Inside the cavernous marble-floored lobby she’d felt the rumble of the trains below as they entered the station. It was all so familiar…comforting. She felt at home here but she had no clue why. Had she lived near here in the past? Been a regular commuter? She shook her head. She was being silly. A person remembered the places she’d lived. Paranoia, that’s all. She was just being paranoid.

      The sound of the announcer singing out the track and time for the next Metroliner jerked her attention back to the task at hand. Some part of her that she didn’t understand and that was pure, well-honed survival instinct, kept the pain at bay as she focused on what had to be done. She just pushed through the throng of hurrying commuters and toward the down escalator.

      Though she couldn’t name any precise instances at the moment, she’d done this sort of thing for years. She knew it as well as she knew her name, but wasn’t exactly sure how she knew. Kat was completely at ease with tracking a human target. She’d done it a thousand times. The basis of that fact also eluded her. It simply felt second nature.

      God, what was wrong with her lately? She knew who and what she was…she just couldn’t get right with it all. It was as if a brick wall stood between her and the answers she desperately needed. It was weird.

      Too weird.

      But, like the headaches, she couldn’t think about that right now. She damn sure couldn’t let any of her cohorts see her inner struggle. Too many of them already wanted her out. Regrettably, out was synonymous with dead.

      Her target moved toward the loading platform where he would catch the Metroliner to New York’s Penn Station. Kat closed in. Once in Manhattan he would rendezvous with his superiors at the new CIA branch office. In his briefcase he carried documents that would mislead those who interpreted them and cause a very important ongoing mission to blow up in their faces.

      Kat had to prevent that from happening.

      She was a good guy. One of her country’s invisible saviors. Countries all over the globe had them…all commissioned by the World Security Agency.

      The world’s savior.

      A frown inched across her brow as something deep inside her shifted, nudged her. As everything else, she couldn’t name it or understand it.

      The man in the blue pin-striped suit standing only a dozen feet from Kat was no bad guy himself. He had no idea that his assistant was a mole for one of the CIA’s archenemies. It was Kat’s job to intercept the intelligence documents in the briefcase, thus preventing the planned catastrophe without any bloodshed or violence at all. Before the mole could arrange a second attempt he would be discovered and dealt with accordingly.