Person of Interest. Debra Webb

so much. Maybe part of her sudden impatience to move forward was somehow related to current events as well as the recent past. Whatever the case, it was the right thing to do.

      Dawson led her to the bank of elevators and depressed the down button. Uneasiness stirred inside her again. Somehow she doubted that the director’s office had been moved to the basement. Before she could question his selection the doors slid open and the three of them boarded the waiting car.

      When he selected a lower level, she felt compelled to ask, “Aren’t we going to the director’s office?”

      Agent Dawson smiled kindly. He’d always had a nice smile, a calming demeanor. She was glad for that. “We’re meeting in a special conference room this time. The director is there now waiting for your arrival.”

      Elizabeth managed a curt nod, still feeling a bit uneasy with the situation despite her handler’s assurances. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end the way they did whenever she sensed a deviation in the status quo of a patient’s condition. She could always predict when things were about to go wrong. This felt wrong. For the first time since she’d agreed to support the CIA from time to time, she felt seriously uncomfortable with the arrangement. That premonition of dread just wouldn’t go away though it refused to clarify itself fully.

      The other agent, the one whose presence added to her discomfort and who hadn’t been introduced to her as of yet, shifted slightly, drawing her attention in his direction.

      He still wore those confounding sunglasses. Elizabeth found the continued behavior to be rude and purposely intimidating. Fury fueling an uncharacteristic boldness she opened her mouth to say just that and he looked at her. Turned his head toward her, tilting it slightly downward and looked straight at her as if he’d sensed her intent. She didn’t have to see his eyes. She could feel him watching her. Something fierce surged through her. Fear, she told herself. But it didn’t feel quite like fear.

      Who the hell was this man?

      She swung her attention back to Agent Dawson, intent on demanding the identity of the other man, but the elevator bumped to a halt. The doors yawned open and Dawson motioned for her to precede him. Pushing her irrational annoyance with the other man to the back burner, she stepped out of the car and moved in the direction Dawson indicated. She would likely never see this stranger again after today, what was the point in making a scene?

      ON SOME LEVEL she recognized him. Special Agent Joe Hennessey couldn’t jeopardize this mission by allowing her to recognize him before the decision was made. He’d kept the concealing eyewear in place to throw her off, but he had a feeling she wouldn’t be fooled for long. He’d been careful not to speak and not to get too close.

      But there was no denying the chemistry that still sizzled between them…it was there in full force. He could only hope that she was disconcerted with the unexpected trip to Langley and was off balance enough to give a commitment before the full ramifications of the situation became crystal clear.

      The long corridor stretched out before them, the occasional door on one side or the other interrupting the monotonous white walls. Tile polished to a high sheen flowed like an endless sea of glass. Surface mounted fluorescent lights provided ample lighting if not an elegant atmosphere. He could feel her uneasiness growing with each step. She didn’t like this deviation from the usual routine.

      Hennessey knew this was her first trip to the bowels of the Agency and she probably hoped it would be the last. The adrenaline no doubt pumping through her veins would make the air feel heavier, thicker. It didn’t take a psychic to know she was seriously antsy in the situation. Didn’t like it one damned bit.

      Dawson stayed to her right, a step ahead, leading the way. Hennessey stayed to her left, kept his movements perfectly aligned with hers, not moving ahead, never falling behind. If the overhead lights were to suddenly go out and the generators were to fail, he would still know she was there. He could feel her next to him. For someone who loved clinging to a routine, her energy was strong…her presence nearly overwhelming. With every fiber of his being he knew she was even now scrolling through her memory banks searching for what it was that felt familiar about him.

      Thankfully they reached their destination. Dawson stopped at the next door on the left. “The director is waiting for you inside, Dr. Cameron.” He reached for the door and opened it.

      Elizabeth looked from him to Hennessey and back. “Aren’t you coming in, Agent Dawson?”

      She didn’t like this at all. Hennessey could feel the tension vibrating inside her mounting.

      “Not this time, ma’am.”

      SHE DIDN’T LIKE THIS. Her frown deepening, Elizabeth pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and moved through the open door. She had been briefed long ago about the various levels of security clearances within the CIA. Some were so secret that even the designation was classified. In most cases, the rule that every agent lived by was the “need-to-know” rule. One knew what one needed to know and nothing more.

      Clearly Agent Dawson and his friend didn’t need to know whatever the director was about to discuss with her. The door closed behind her with a resolute thud and she shivered. The sound echoed through her, shaking loose a memory from months ago. It had been dark…she’d scarcely seen his face, but she had known his reputation. The man who’d been sent to protect her that night had held her there like a prisoner in the darkness for hours insisting that it was for her own safety. He’d been rude and arrogant, had overwhelmed her with his brute strength…his absolute maleness. And then he’d been gone.

      He’d almost taken advantage of her—she’d almost let him—and then he’d disappeared. Like a shadow in the night…as if he’d never been there at all. She’d known what he’d done. He’d reveled in pushing her buttons, in making her weak. But she’d resisted, just barely. If she hadn’t, he would have taken full advantage, even knowing that she belonged to David. She wondered if David had ever suspected that the friend he’d sent to protect her from a threat the nature of which she hadn’t been authorized clearance for had almost succeeded in seducing her with his devastating charm. Some friend.

      But then that was Special Agent Joe Hennessey. He might be a superspy of legendary proportions, but she knew him for what he was: ruthless and with an allegiance only to himself. The guy waiting with Dawson in the corridor reminded her of Hennessey.

      “Elizabeth, thank you for coming.”

      Elizabeth shoved the distracting thoughts away as Director George Calder rounded the end of the long conference table and made his way to her. A second gentleman she didn’t recognize rose from his chair but didn’t move toward her.

      Present and future, forget the past, she reminded her too forgetful self. Like David, Joe Hennessey was a part of her past that was gone forever. Face forward. Focus on the here and now…on the future. Director Calder took her hand in his and shook it firmly.

      “I hope you’ll forgive my intrusion into your vacation schedule,” he offered, his expression displaying sincere regret.

      George Calder was a tall, broad-shouldered man, not unlike the two agents waiting outside the door. Nearly sixty, his hair had long ago silvered and lines drawn by the execution of enormous power marred his distinguished face. He’d presented himself as nothing less than gracious and sensitive each time he’d requested Elizabeth’s presence. But there was more this time. Something else simmered behind those intelligent hazel eyes. The sixth sense that usually centered on her patients was humming now, urging her to act.

      “Technically,” Elizabeth said succinctly, ignoring her foolish urge for fight or flight, “my vacation doesn’t start until tomorrow so you’re still safe for now.”

      George laughed, but the sound was forced. “Let me introduce you to our director of operations.” He turned to the other man in the room. This one was slightly shorter and thinner, but looked every bit as formidable as Director Calder.

      “Kurt Allen, meet our talented Dr. Elizabeth Cameron.”

      His fashionable