Page 10 of Steel Vengeance

He stepped back while she closed the laptop and disconnected her phone. When she was done, she glanced up and found him staring at her. “Is your real name Sloane Carmichael?”

“Yes, I told you that already.”

He shrugged. “I’m surprised. They usually give undercover operatives some kind of cover story. Maybe they figured you were better off telling the truth.”

Or maybe they didn’t think I was worth protecting, she thought suddenly. But no—Matthew would never put her at risk. He cared about her.

“I’m only supposed to observe and report back,” she said defensively. “Not sure that warrants a fake identity.”

“What if you get caught?” he asked. “Did they tell you what to do then?”

“I’m not going to get caught. And I’ve been through basic training.” She hated the doubt in her voice. To be honest, her training wasn’t that extensive. Ten months at the academy, then two months at the D.C. office before she was shipped off to Pakistan.

“You’d better hope you don’t.” For the first time, his icy blue eyes glittered with amusement. “You didn’t put up much of a fight when I broke in.”

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

He tilted his head in acknowledgment. “I guess so.”

“And now we’re working together,” she continued.

“We are.”

“Some might say that’s a win for me. Maybe this is my chance to gather intel on you. Ever think of that?”

This time, he smiled—just a little. The corners of his mouth lifted, and his gaze softened. “Of course.”

Her breath caught.

Damn.

When he lost that steely edge, when he allowed himself to be human, it did something to her. She felt her pulse quicken.

“What’s your name?”

There was a pause. “You can call me Stitch.”

“Stitch?”

“Yeah.”

Okay, fine. Stitch it was.

After a moment, he said, “It’s sure going to be interesting working with you, Special Agent Carmichael. How about I take the morning shift, and you take the afternoon?”

Oh, no. That wasn’t going to work. “Can we swap? I teach at the community center three afternoons a week.”

“Fine. Makes no difference to me.”

They stared at each other until he finally broke eye contact and backed toward the window.

“You can use the door, you know,” she said, regaining her composure. He was, without a doubt, the most unnerving, intimidating man she’d ever met.

“I’d rather not be seen.” He threw a leg over the windowsill and hopped down onto the rickety balcony. It groaned under his weight but held.

“See you tomorrow,” she called.

But he was already gone.