Kimberly Van Meter - The Agent's Surrender

“It should be ready now.” Her dad motioned for everyone to follow him to the dining room. He nodded with brisk approval at Claudine, the live-in maid and cook, and then seated himself at the head of the table like a king surveying his subjects, which Jane thought was an apt analogy.

“Smells great, Claudine,” she murmured, ready to dig in and get the hell out.

“How are you, Miss Jane?” Claudine asked, placing the gravy boat nearest to her father because he practically drank the stuff with a straw. Her father was waging a war against time, determined to prove he was damn near invincible, no matter that he was nearing seventy.

“Good, and yourself?”

“Can’t complain.” The older woman smiled. “When are you going to meet a nice young man?”

“No time for that,” she said briskly, shaking her head as she scooped a spoonful of mashed potatoes. Why didn’t anyone ever ask why Walker or Ian hadn’t settled down? Because men were allowed to be footloose and fancy-free, she answered herself in a sour tone. “I’m married to my job,” she said, thinking briefly of the time she and Holden had spent together. If things had been different...maybe...but they weren’t, so what was the point in wallowing in the past?

Her father nodded and said, “There’s more to life than getting married, Claudine. Don’t be putting foolish thoughts into the girl’s head. She’s finally doing all right. Time to focus on the priorities.”

Somehow having her father echo the same sentiment sent a stone tumbling into the pit of her stomach when it should’ve made her grin from ear to ear. She was constantly yearning for a smidgeon of her father’s approval, yet sometimes the smidge just tasted hollow.

Hell, she must be tired. This whole situation with Holden and the case had put her off-kilter. Tomorrow she’d find out what the hell kind of evidence Holden thought he had and then she’d start putting this baby to bed. For good.

Chapter 3

Per usual, Holden awoke at 4:30 a.m., and after pounding back an organic whey protein shake, dressed, grabbed his workout bag and headed for the office.

Being in the top level of the CIA had its perks, one of them being the executive exercise facility, which Holden took full advantage of. After a career in the military, he didn’t relish the idea of going soft at a desk job, so he worked out just as hard as he ever did. And also, per usual, Jane was there, too.

It was always a small punch to the gut whenever he saw Jane dressed like a civilian in her workout clothes. It reminded him too vividly how that lithe, muscular body had fit so well against his, and it was in those raw, primal moments that his guard slipped, if only for a heartbeat. And then he remembered how she’d thrown his feelings in his face and walked out on him and the wall went back up.

“Would it kill you to exercise at a different time?” he asked as she joined him, stuffing her bag in the locker and grabbing a towel. “Or is this some twisted scheme to spend more time with me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

He didn’t know why he’d assumed she’d cut out on her morning workout after getting the news that the case had been reopened, but obviously it hadn’t stopped her. Seeing her there put him instantly on edge.

She headed directly to the treadmill and punched in her usual workout, a punishing ten-mile run in fifty-five minutes. Holden, deciding to bypass his lifting routine, stepped onto the treadmill beside her. He punched in ten miles and kicked up the pace.

After they’d started running, Holden asked, “So why’d Reed change his mind? You have something to do with that?”

“What does it matter?”

“It matters to me.”

She cut him a short look. “I don’t like my work to look sloppy. I realized that if you think you have hard evidence, chances were you did, and I didn’t want to run the risk that someone else might question my skills as an investigator. I figured chasing down the lead was a minimally small risk when I feel confident the end result will remain the same.”

“Why are you so willing to believe the worst of my brother?”

“I didn’t know your brother, so I have no opinion of him. I followed the evidence. Your brother’s death was the catalyst to the entire I.D. network becoming a pile of rubble. That much is easy enough to document. Your brother was implicated in the killings of several high-ranking officials internationally, as well as domestically, and his suicide—”

“ Alleged suicide,” he interrupted with a growl, and she shrugged, keeping an easy but brisk pace without breaking a sweat. She was in remarkable shape. One would have to be blind not to notice—and Holden was not blind. Not to mention he had first-hand knowledge of every curve and valley carved into that hot body. “And Nathan Isaacs, his good friend and fellow sniper for I.D., had also been accused of committing unsanctioned hits, and he wasn’t stripped of his medals.”

“Nathan didn’t know he was carrying out someone else’s agenda. Miko did. That much was said in his suicide note.”

“We don’t even know the note was written by Miko because it was printed out and not handwritten. For all we know, my brother was set up by someone higher up the chain.”

“How high are we talking?” she asked, a faint note of mockery in her tone. “C’mon, Holden, Occam’s razor. Sometimes the most obvious explanation is the right one.”

“And sometimes what may seem like the obvious answer is in actuality what someone wants you to believe.”

“Well, you got your wish. We’re going to chase down your lead and see where it takes us. Just don’t blame me when we end up in the same place we started.”

He knew it was possible Jane was right, but his gut said otherwise. He couldn’t explain the twin bond to someone who’d never experienced it. But he could chase down a lead like a bloodhound, and that was what he was going to do. He supposed he owed Reed a note of gratitude for opening the door so he could walk through instead of having to scale windows in the dead of night. Sneaking around wasn’t his favorite game.

“So what’s your story, Fallon?” he asked, curious as to what went on behind those jade eyes.

She shot him an irritated look. “Are you going to gab all morning or let me run in peace? You’ll have plenty opportunity to flap your jaws later.”

“I forgot that your workout takes all your concentration,” he said, knowing the subtle jab would ruffle her feathers. From what he knew of Jane, she didn’t take shortcuts and didn’t do girl push-ups. In fact, she worked harder than most men. She was a marine through and through. As expected, she cast him a dark look and punched in a higher pace as if to prove a point. He chuckled and did the same. They were running side by side, like a cheetah and a gazelle, except they were evenly matched in skill and strength. Sweat began to drip down his temple and soak his T-shirt. A quick look at Jane revealed high points of color pinching her cheeks as she kept up the pace. At this rate, their hearts would explode, and she was so damn stubborn she’d never quit before him. He didn’t want to show weakness, but running had never been his strong suit. Her legs pumped, strong and fierce, as she kept her gaze trained forward, and he had to wonder where she went in her head to withstand such a grueling workout. Running was a mental activity as much as it was physical and Jane was in the zone. He envied her detachment, her ability to compartmentalize the pain of her burning legs and lungs as she pushed herself beyond most people’s capability. Maybe that was how she had been able to just cut him loose and walk away without looking back. Don’t start that crap again, a sharp voice in his head warned when he went too deep into the whys of their breakup. Ancient history—keep it there.