Chapter 9

"I have heard rumors here and there," she told him. "Rumors that the senator makes the bulk of his money dealing in illegal arms to terrorists. In Africa and the Middle East," she added, then leaned back and waited to see if he called her crazy.

But instead, he sat there, fixing her with that penetrating gaze, his expression giving away nothing.

"You think I'm nuts, right?" She shrugged. "What I expected. But what were you doing there? What were you looking for?"

Although his face gave nothing away, she could sense him debating with himself exactly how much to tell her.

"Where are your credentials?" he asked at last. "Where's your identification?"

"What? In my car. Locked in the glove compartment." She frowned. "Now you ask for it?"

"Do you have some kind of magic ignition?" he asked. "You sure don't have any hiding places on you for a key."

She laughed and lifted one foot, resting it on her knee, and undid the laces on her shoe.

Carefully, she opened the little pocket inside the instep and removed the key. "Ta-da!" She held it up for him to see.

"I'm getting rusty, dammit." He mumbled curses beneath his breath. "I had other things on my mind and wasn't as thorough as I should be. Stuff like that will get me killed if I'm not more careful."

She couldn't help laughing. "I'm obviously not going to shoot you. You have my gun."

"That's beside the point," he muttered, letting loose another string of curses. "Okay, I want to see your identification. Then we'll go from there."

She could have tried to get away from him when they went outside to her car, but she figured it would be a useless effort. Besides, she wanted to know his reason for targeting Bostic.

Maybe they could work together. She was smart enough to know this was going to be more than she could handle herself.

"Okay," he said when that was taken care of. "I'm satisfied you are who you say you are.

Tell me exactly what you were looking for at Bostic's. Certainly you don't think he keeps a record of the girls he abuses."

"Of course not," she snapped. "Do you think I'm an idiot? Wait. Don't answer that."

His lips curved in a semblance of a smile. This was obviously a man who did not have much humor in his life.

"So what, then?"

She shrugged. This was going to sound so stupid. "I don't know, exactly. But there are so many rumors of his under-the-table deals and his dirty operations, I was sure I could get proof of something to hang him with. People like him are arrogant enough to keep records, thinking no one will ever look."

"And to have a hold on the people involved in their crap," Grey added.

"Of course." She waited for him to say something else, but she'd already figured out that wasn't his style. He could outwait anyone. She blew out a breath. "Okay, I'll ask. What are you after him for? I assume you found what you were looking for since you've been working away on that sophisticated piece of equipment."

"I might have."

Okay, yeah, Mr. Closemouthed himself.

She waved a hand at all the paraphernalia stacked around the small living room. "What is all this, anyway?"

He gave her that half-grin again. "What's the old saying? I'd tell you but I'd have to kill you."

"I'm going to assume you don't actually mean that." More silence. "Okay, listen. Ask me whatever you want. I have no choice but to trust you because you have me at a distinct disadvantage. I might actually be able to help you. It's possible I know things about Bostic you don't. Or maybe have other information you need. I've been keeping track of him in a notebook.

And before you ask me if I'm crazy, I'm not. But I wanted to make sure I didn't forget even the tiniest fact I learned or heard."

He leaned his elbows on the table, steepled his fingers, and gave her a look with those slate-grey eyes that sizzled her nerve endings—and it wasn't just fear she was feeling. She hadn't felt desire for any male in longer than she cared to remember. How was it all her girl parts were standing up and demanding attention from this stranger who probably knew seventeen ways to kill her?

"You still haven't told me why you're after such a high profile politician," she reminded him.

Another of those long, penetrating looks. Then he sat back. "This goes against everything in me," he said. "I just want you to know that."

"But—"

He held up a finger. "But my gut is telling me to take a chance, and my gut is hardly ever wrong. I hope this isn't one of those times."

Something that had been twisted inside Athena's gut unwound itself, and the tension gripping her since she woke up on the crummy couch eased. She had no idea who Grey Holden really was, but she was damn sure of one thing. Meeting him was the luckiest thing that had happened to her in a very long time.

"I promise you it won't be. So, what's your story?"

"It's not pretty," he said.

He was right. It wasn't. When he finished, the anger she felt for the man they were both after burst inside her like a fireball. This went way beyond forcing sexual advances on young interns and brutalizing them. The thoughts it conjured up made her sick to her stomach.

"He's not the only one in this dirty business," Grey said. "But I'm going to make sure at least he won't be doing any more damage to our own military."

And Athena made a silent commitment to help him all she could.