sniff out her accomplices.”
Somewhere around 2 a.m., Clinton conceded that Agent Lawson might be their best bet. “But watch yourself. You’ll have coverage 24/7. Despite what she’s said so far, Ms. Flynn could have made a deal with a madman to further her career. He’d do the big boom and she’d capture it on film. If we get too close she might take action to save herself.”
Brad nodded, feigning agreement. “That would make her one soulless bitch.”
Clinton nodded. “We get a lot of that in this business.”
“Can I talk with her?”
“No. We’ve sent her to a hotel with a guard for the night. But be ready to move in the morning. However this goes down, we want it to take place outside D.C.”
***
Brad found himself staring at his TV with the sound off for another hour before he packed a bag and headed for the hotel in Arlington.
He couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Georgiana Flynn had a framed picture of him hanging in her place. The photo of a man she never thought she’d see again.
He was flattered, and intrigued, and more certain than ever that she had remained on his mind for reasons that had nothing to do with the FBI or bombers.
She hadn’t seemed like the trophy type. But was it easier to believe that they’d formed a special intimate connection in bed during one evening?
Which was more likely?
He didn’t know.
He did know that he didn’t want her used as chum bait by the FBI for a great white shark of a madman bomber.
By offering to be her handler, he would be there by her side for every step as they set out to capture a would-be bomber. He wouldn’t use her callously, subjecting her to dangerous situations the way another agent might. He believed she was a victim. He would protect her.
It didn’t hurt that he would also have a chance to find out how deep their connection went. No, that didn’t spoil things at all.
Chapter Five
Georgiana woke with a start, her heart thundering in her chest. A sound had awakened her. Someone had broken into her apartment last night. Was he back?
She sat up only to come to a complete stop. This shadowed room wasn’t her bedroom. Tossing the covers, she reached for the bedside light. A hotel room popped into focus. Memory caught up with her. She had been sent to spend what was left of the night in a hotel, courtesy of the FBI. Somewhere in Arlington, if she remembered correctly. She noticed her open suitcase sitting on a stand in the corner. She hadn’t needed to pack because she’d just come back from a trip.
She heard more sounds. Definitely the clatter of dishes. She popped up and opened the door, and halted in amazement. This was no ordinary hotel room. This was a suite, complete with a living area where a room service waiter was setting up a portable table laden with dishes.
When he saw her, he smiled brightly. “Good morning, ma’am. Your order is ready.”
She remained in the doorway, uncertain what to do. “How did you get in here?”
“I let him in, Boots.”
Georgie’s gaze swiveled to a doorway directly across the room from hers. Philip—no, she needed to stop thinking about Philip. Philip was a lie. The FBI agent named Brad Lawson stood there in cargo pants and an olive-green tee, looking tough and unyielding, and effortlessly gorgeous. Seeing him made her angry all over again.
“Hope you like eggs Benedict or waffles. I ordered both.” His mouth was smiling but not his eyes. There was a warning in them.
Be careful.
Trust no one.
Those were her attorney’s final words to her the night before.
Her gaze moved back cautiously to the bellhop. “Just let me get a tip.”
The room service guy smiled at her. “Taken care of. Have a nice breakfast.”
As soon as the door snapped shut behind him Georgie stalked across the room toward her unwelcome companion. “What are you doing here?”
He offered her nothing beyond an impassive gaze. “You agreed to cooperate with the FBI. You need protection. We’re