Page 65
“Okay,” she finally said, closing her fingers around the pendant. “I guess I don’t have much choice if I want this to end.”
Heart still hammering, she let Wyatt pull her into his arms and press a kiss to her temple. Whatever passed behind his eyes a moment ago, she had to trust.
She’d trusted him from the very start, since he stepped out of the dark and asked if she was looking for a jar of homemade soap.
She wasn’t about to stop now.
Chapter Fourteen
Whitley was picking at her steak. And if she was picking at steak, there was something wrong.
Since the moment they met, she’d been composed enough to manage her emotions. Even if he could read them on her face, she was always able to push through—finish the task, answer the question, keep moving forward no matter what storm was happening underneath the surface.
He’d watched her do it a dozen times. Tonight, though, the fork kept stalling halfway to her mouth, her eyes drifting somewhere past his shoulder every few minutes as if she was playing a scenario in her mind.
Tomorrow morning, she’d walk into a federal building alone. Wyatt had one job before that happened.
Make sure she didn’t fall apart in that room.
They finished their meal and he sent her a sidelong look. “Want to take a walk around the ranch?”
To his surprise, she shook her head. “I’d like to go to my room.”
His gaze sharpened on her, taking in the strain between her brows. She was more worried than he guessed, but whether that was the interview itself or leaving the ranch, he wasn’t sure.
Whatever it was, he intended to be closer than she knew tomorrow.
The FBI said no one could sit in that room with her and no one could ride in the car.
They hadn’t said a single word about a man parked outside that building the entire time, watching her signal, ready to move the second anything looked wrong.
He’d keep that part to himself for now. She had enough to carry tonight without adding his insubordination to the pile, and what Carson didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, not in this matter.
They strolled slowly through the corridors, and he tilted his head toward his room as they passed, a silent invitation she caught immediately.
She paused, brow lifted.
He offered her a gentle smile meant to keep her from bolting. “It’s not what you think.”
Though it could be. He kept that part to himself for now too.
“Private training session.”
She gave him a skeptical look.
“Come on.” He squeezed her hand and tugged her a step toward his room. She followed, and he shut the door behind them.
When he turned to her, she was watching him with a glimmer of trepidation in her eyes.
He waved to the chair. She moved to it and plucked the book he’d left on the cushion. After a glance at the title, she set it aside and sat.
“Should I be worried?” She chewed her bottom lip between her teeth.
He smiled and sat on the edge of the bed opposite her. “We’re going to do a little roleplay.”
The sly look she gave him sent heat through his body, but he shook it off.
“Pretend I’m the FBI agent.”
