Withholding Evidence by Rachel Grant Read Free Book Online

infiltrate the al Qaeda leader’s stronghold?”
    Keith closed his eyes and rubbed a hand across his face. “I can’t answer that.”
    “You promised. And I have the necessary clearance. You can tell me everything.”
    “I didn’t promise anything. I only said you could ask three questions. I never said I’d answer them.”
    His words snapped the hazy spell that had enveloped her from the moment she took in his bookshelves. She jumped to her feet. “You sonofabitch!”
    “Trina. I can’t talk about my ops. I swore an oath.”
    She clenched her jaw. “I. Have. Clearance. You can tell me.”
    “I’ve been debriefed. I don’t have to tell you anything.”
    How could she be so stupid? She’d been eager to escape the mess she’d made of the party, and had glommed on to his promise. She felt like a fool.
    “Trina, I like you. I want to spend time with you. Date you. Make love to you. But you need to understand, I will never tell you about any of the ops I was involved in with the SEALs. Period.”
    “I’m such an idiot.” She was stuck in Falls Church without so much as a Metro farecard to get her home. “I need five dollars.”
    “What?”
    “Five dollars. So I can take the Metro home.”
    “I thought this”—he indicated his open shirt, her gaping dress—“had nothing to do with your research into Somalia. There’s no reason for you to leave.”
    She zipped the back of her dress. “And I thought you didn’t play games. I lost my libido when I realized you misled me. I no longer find you attractive.”
    “Bullshit.”
    “You’ve got an impressive ego, Senior Chief. You may be hot, but no amount of muscle can make up for being manipulative. Now, I need five dollars or a farecard.”
    “I’ll give you a ride. After dinner. If we leave now, your roommate won’t be home yet. You’re locked out.”
    “I don’t give a damn. Give me five dollars, or I’ll walk.”
    “Trina—”
    “You’re no better than Perry. In fact, you’re worse. He was a sexist pig and condescending, but at least he was upfront about it.” She grabbed Keith’s landline and started to dial.
    “Who are you calling?”
    She twisted, turning her back to him. “Cressida. I’m letting her know I’m on my way home.”
    “It’s getting dark. Where do you live? You can’t walk home from a Metro station alone. At least let me take you home.” His voice was low, his tone regretful.
    She gripped the phone tighter, afraid he’d try to take it from her. “Do you really think I’d get in a car with you again? Not just no, but hell, no.”
    He didn’t say a word as she spoke to Cressida, and in the end, he gave her the five dollars. She hadn’t counted on him following her out the door and down the street. Or riding the Metro with her. He sat at the opposite end of the train car and exited when she exited, switching to the Red Line when she switched. He followed her down the busy streets near DuPont Circle, maintaining a discreet distance, and waited a block away as she sat on her front stoop and waited for Cressida.
    His presence was strangely comforting; she hated walking the last two blocks to her place alone at night. Forty-five minutes passed as darkness deepened, and still, Keith didn’t take a step closer, nor did he take a step away. Finally, Cressida and Todd arrived and jumped out of Lee’s SUV. Trina waved as he and Erica drove off, then she stood and climbed the stairs to her apartment. She could only assume Keith turned and headed back to the Metro. She didn’t bother to look his way as she entered her apartment building.

C HAPTER F OUR

    M ONDAYS WERE RARELY fun, but Trina had special reasons to dread this particular one. She’d tried to deck Perry Carlson, who was only the senior aide to a man who was as revered as James Smithson, the benefactor whose money created the Smithsonian Institution. Then she’d left the party with a man who was a potential source for an oral history and was friends with a