Page 38 of Nothing to Fear

An icy tingle ran down her spine. “They can’t do that. Not to American citizens.”

“Who is they?”

She was at a loss for an answer.

“A whitewash only happens to an organization or unit that isn’t supposed to exist. One that can’t see the light of day or subvert its purpose of safeguarding national security. They can and will, if deemed necessary.”

Her breath hitched in her throat. It was all too startling and grim to be real.

The teenager approached them and proffered the box of doughnuts.

Gideon took it and strolled to the register. “How much?”

“It’s on the house.” The young woman winked.

“Thanks, Mariko.”

The woman didn’t wear a nametag. Gideon knew her.

“Why the ruse?” Willow asked.

“In the event I’m being coerced, I could warn them without anyone being the wiser.”

He put a hand to her lower back in the comforting manner that was growing on her. His masculine heat teased her skin, anchoring her in a way that took the edge off the pervasive dread.

They passed an Employees Only sign and stopped at an unmarked door. He looked up at a security camera. After a soft buzz, Gideon opened the door to a staircase.

He bounded up the steps two at a time, agile power rippling through him. She jogged up behind him until they reached a metal door. A series of deadbolts unlocked, a heavy latch slid on the other side, and the door swung open to the outside.

A guy who looked like a male version of Mariko—midtwenties, long, glossy black hair—gave Gideon a one-armed hug. “I take it this isn’t a social visit.”

“Afraid not.”

The guy waved them inside.

The lavish upstairs apartment had an inviting open-concept layout. A high-end sofa and club chairs comprised a cozy living room. Concrete countertops graced the eat-in kitchen, where a steel table was adorned with laptop and shotgun. The dining-area-turned-makeshift-office had a table with a lightbox on top, and a black photo background hung on the wall.

A red beacon light was mounted high above the doorframe.

“Ken, this is Willow,” Gideon said. “Willow, Ken. I helped him out of a hairy situation once.”

She didn’t recall any Ken from Gideon’s case files.

“Hairy?” Ken scoffed, closing the door. “You saved my life. I owe you big time.”

“I need to collect on the favor,” Gideon said.

“What do you need?”

“Passports and a place to crash until they’re ready.”

“Done,” Ken said. “Take the third bedroom at the far end. It’s got an en suite. Should take about three hours. Four, tops.”

There was a hall off either end of the main living area. Toward the kitchen, Willow spotted one door. On the other side, where Ken had indicated, were two more doors.

“Willow needs to dye her hair first.”

“If I know the color, I can digitally alter the picture to match. While I’m working on the passports, she can dye her hair. It’ll save time.” Ken glanced at Willow. “What’s the color?”