“Abbie, I need to know what you and Gwen were talking about. I can’t explain why, but it’s important to national security.”

“National security?” Her smile was loaded with skepticism. “Why should I believe you or tell you anything? How do I know you aren’t going to kill me, too?”

“Because I’m the best bet you’ve got for staying alive.”

She tossed the ice pack to the table and sat her glass in the cup holder, then leaned forward with hands on her knees. “Explain what you mean. Who was that guy in my apartment, since he seemed to know you?”

“He’s a trained assassin. The best way to keep you safe is to put you in the WITSEC program, which I can arrange. I can’t tell you what I do, but I have the connections to get you in there. That’s where we’re headed now.” Sort of. Once Joe and Tee got what they wanted, she’d end up in WITSEC.

“No! You can’t do that.”

Hunter rolled out the let’s-be-intelligent-about-this tone he saved for reality-challenged individuals who couldn’t size up their options quickly. “I can understand how frightening it seems to leave your life and identity, but it’s not as scary as someone trying to kill you. We have people who can help you transition.”

“No, no, no! I will not go into WITSEC.” She jumped up, looking around as if she could find a way out.

He stood and grabbed her arms to steady her. “Sit down before you fall.”

“I can’t just disappear. I have responsibilities. Everyone will be looking for me.”

“We’ll get a message that you’ve been called away on a family issue, then let you write a letter to your family we’ll deliver.”

Her lips parted, eyes wide in disbelief. “First, the police will not believe that after what happened tonight. Second, my family needs me now.”

“My people will keep your name out of the media-”

“That’ll be some trick since I work for a local television station.”

His jaw snapped shut. She was with the damn media? “You told me-”

“-that I was a writer, which I am,” she snapped, then added, “Don’t look at me like that. You lied to me the whole night, too.”

“You’re a reporter.” He didn’t back off the disgust in his voice. “What did you tell your station about tonight?”

“Nothing. I haven’t had a chance to talk to anyone between giving police reports and walking in on a killer in my apartment.” She leaned forward and stabbed a finger at him, ordering, “Take me home. Now.”

Not in this lifetime. Hunter shook his head.

Her anger died down, but her stiff profile said she was not giving up.

He needed one of BAD’s damn transition specialists.

“Have a seat and we’ll talk calmly.” Hunter would rather deal with an insane terrorist than an upset female. The women he normally encountered on an op usually fit into one of two categories-an enemy who would gut him without a second thought or a civilian who had to be rescued and would readily jump at a chance to be in a protective environment.

Someone should have shared the black-ops handbook with Abbie. He gave it another try. “It’s too dangerous to return to your life.”

“I have to go home.” She backed out of his grasp, grabbed her head, and shuffled drunkenly until she latched a hand on the headrest of her chair.

He rubbed his eyes, recalling how Eliot had always been better at dealing with irrational or upset women than him. But Eliot was gone and Hunter had to get Abbie to talk before they landed since BAD would be waiting at the airstrip once he alerted them. “You don’t have a choice about going into WITSEC. Your life’s in danger.”

She straightened her shoulders, but terror spilled out with every short breath. Color faded from her face. She turned a dull shade of grayish white that made him think she might lose her struggle with nausea even though her eyes blazed, battle-ready. “I don’t care.”

That just pissed him off. “You don’t care that someone is trying to kill you?” he shouted.

“Of course, I care about that,” she shouted right back, then took a breath. “But I still have to go home. My mother’s sick. She needs me.”

The agony and worry in her voice struck him in the chest. “We’ll get your mother help.”

“You don’t understand. I have to be there myself.”

“Is going home worth getting killed for?”

She jerked her head back at his words. “Yes, she’s worth dying for.”

“You won’t be much help to your mother dead,” he argued coldly. Why couldn’t she see the reality of her situation?

“I won’t be any help to my mother if I leave. In fact, I am the only person who can help her.” She raked a handful of curls off her face and muttered, “You just don’t get it.”

“Then make me understand.” He knew she couldn’t.

Abbie curved her chin up. Tears shined in her eyes but stayed put because of the sheer determination flooding her stance. “You want to know if I’m afraid of dying? Hell yes. Who wouldn’t be? But my mother needs me. I’m the only one who could have gotten to Gwen and now Gwen can’t even help me, but I can’t hide somewhere safe knowing my mother-”

This was going nowhere. He cut in with, “I get that you’re worried about your mother, but we have resources. Just tell me what’s wrong with her and I’ll see what I can do while we put you somewhere safe in the meantime.”

She shook her head.

Didn’t the aggravating woman realize this was not a game? That she was in real danger of dying?

He pressed on. “So you don’t want to see if our doctors could help her?” He sounded like a heartless bastard snapping at her, but his options were exhausted. “You want to negotiate? Tell me the truth about why you were meeting with Gwen and I’ll discuss options.”

Abbie folded her arms. Icy thoughts crossed her gaze. “My perfectly healthy mother went to the Kore Women’s Center ten days ago to donate blood they store for her and to have standard tests performed. The day after she came home her spleen started shutting down, which is causing major internal problems. She may need a liver transplant soon. Kore refuses to admit they treated her with anything, but my mother’s doctor told me the truth about Kore. That they do secret testing on childbearing women with rare blood, which my mother was when she first walked into Kore over thirty years ago. She has very rare H-1 blood. Our doctor said Kore had to have given my mother something that damaged the spleen, but he’s run every conceivable test. No one knows what’s wrong with her, but she’s getting worse every day.” Tears bubbled at her eyelashes.

Oh. Shit.

“I’m her only hope,” Abbie said, forcing strength into her voice. “My mother’s dying and may not live through the week. So, yes, I’d rather die trying to save her than live with the guilt of wondering if I could have. If you can’t understand caring that much for someone you love then you’re one coldhearted bastard.”

Hunter generally had an answer for everyone on any topic, but not this time. Brittle silence competed with the rush of air outside the fuselage.

Abbie waited quietly for him to give her an answer, worry and anticipation glowing in her eyes.

He was a coldhearted bastard, but taking her away from her dying mother would put him in a category of humans lower on the food chain than those he’d helped put into prison.

If he handed her over to BAD’s witness protection handlers they’d make sympathetic noises while processing her and she’d have no chance to get to her mother. Not any time soon.

She’d have to live with her mother’s death hanging over her forever.

Few people knew the torment of living with the death of an innocent person, a loved one, on your conscience.

Like Eliot.

Eliot’s face, strained with agonizing pain, bloomed in Hunter’s mind. The crashing waves and last seconds when his friend said goodbye, then cut the rope… and fell silently to his death. Nothing would ever erase that.