“Crap. I guess I did. But no worries. I figure when this is all over, one of us will be dead so we can pretty much say whatever we want to each other.”

The solid circle of egg he flipped almost slid out of the pan. Good thing he had quick reflexes. Righting it, he let what she’d just said sink in. Silence ensued for the next couple minutes while he finished. Then he got out two plates, cut the large omelet in half, and put a plate down in front of her. He took the seat across the table to keep some space between them. And even that wasn’t enough. Her scent made him hungry for a lot more than food.

“Thanks. It looks great.”

“What did you mean by one of us will be dead? I was under the impression I’m the only one with a death sentence.” Something else bothered her, and he wanted to know what.

She squirmed in her seat as if just realizing what she’d let slip. Again. “Oh, I just meant…” She took a bite of her omelet. “This is good. You’re not a bad cook.”

While chewing, he said, “You’re not getting out of answering the question.”

Quickly stuffing another bite into her mouth, she avoided talking for a little longer. Probably to try and think of something to say that would appease him.

“Can I have a glass of water?”

He got her some water. “Quit stalling, Tess. Talk.”

“Look, I don’t want to involve you in my problems. Let’s just keep this to finding our two missing people and go from there.”

“That’s where I’m assuming death comes into play. What sort of problem do you have?”

“Hugh,” she said with a tone that was appreciative but not conceding.

Contemplation crossed her face as she took one last bite of food. He was getting used to seeing the look, seeing the stress in her forehead. He imagined she didn’t confide in many people, kept deeply personal things to herself. Much like he did. It was easier. Safer to keep people at bay.

“You said we could say whatever we want to each other.”

“That didn’t include sharing secrets.” She ran her fingers through her blonde hair.

Frustration bubbled inside him. Was he so damn difficult with people who wanted to help him? “So somebody wants you dead?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No. You implied it.”

“No. You’re putting words in my mouth.”

He bore in mind that she was a P.I.E. operative, trained to keep her distance from others. He didn’t know how long she’d been working for them, but he supposed quite some time given her fearlessness and attitude.

She didn’t waver in her stare as she leaned her elbows on the table and clasped her hands in front of her. Hugh tensed at seeing her wrists pink from the duct tape.

Instinctively, he reached out to take her hands in his. The pads of his thumbs rubbed over her wrists. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“Don’t be.” She made no move to break their contact. “If you hadn’t secured the tape tight enough, I would have gotten free.”

Her pulse quickened under his thumbs, her chest rose and fell. He was immensely in tune to every breath she took, and try as he might, he couldn’t hold back a gulp. Putting no blame on him proved how independent she was, how she didn’t want anyone’s sympathy or pity. He took heed and returned to the topic he wouldn’t let go until she gave him some answers.

“I’d like to help you.”

“You are. I’m convinced having someone with your”—she paused—“background will finally get me the guy I’ve been after.”

“I don’t mean that help. I mean help with whoever wants to kill you. I’m not a fool. I know about P.I.E. I know it’s dangerous. And I know when something’s wrong with you. Let me help.”

By the pained look on her face, he could tell his words meant something to her.

“Why?” Confusion marred the one word she’d chosen. “Why would you want to help me when…when all is said and done, my assignment is to kill you?”

“Tell me, Tess.” The physical contact between them, while simple, filled him with a complex desire to rescue her.

“No.”

“Tell me or—”

“Or what?” She yanked her arms back. “You’ll kill me yourself? Go for it. I’d like to see you try.”

“Or I’ll have to guess.” He slid his arms back to his sides. “And I think I’ve already got a pretty good hunch as to what’s going on.”

“Don’t tell me Night Runners can read minds too.” She shifted her eyes away from him for the first time since he’d sat.

He let a tiny smile cross his lips. “No. I can’t hear the words going through your head.”

“That’s good. Here’s my hunch. You’re the kind of guy who reasons longer than I’ve got time for. You’ve got that elaborate office setup, which means you’re a planner, a thinker, someone who has to have things all mapped out before he moves into action.”

She wasn’t too far off the mark. However, he relied on his instincts out in the field. “Tell me.” This time he included a growl.

“You go first, Mr. Know-It-All.”

Which meant she’d go second. He’d take it. “P.I.E.’s been hired to kill me. You’re the eliminator. You’re excellent at your job. Probably the best agent they’ve got. You work alone and you like it. But I think something happened on your last assignment. Maybe your last few, even. I get the sense you’re tiring from the demands your job puts on you.” He relaxed into the chair, pleased to see he had her utmost attention. “Then I come along at the wrong time and mess up your plans. You also like me, which puts a wrinkle in your mission.”

“I do not like you.”

“Yes you do. So let me think out loud here. Maybe you botched your last job. Now I’m next in line and things are…muddy. You’ve never asked for help before, and now you’re confused. We’ve struck a deal, and I don’t think you’ve ever done that either. What happens if you fail an assignment? Do you suffer any consequences?”

He pictured her standing at the end of a gangplank ready to jump into the rough seas rather than come clean and answer any questions. She looked that uncomfortable, that annoyed with him.

“Why are you doing this?” Her voice finally teetered on the edge of concession.

“Hell if I know, but we met tonight for a reason. It was unintentional, unplanned. Maybe it was fate or karma or Trey’s bad luck. Whatever it was, the fact remains we’re both here right now to help each other. No secrets. No judgments. Just two people willing to go where most others won’t.”

“I don’t talk to anyone, Hugh.” Her shoulders sagged as she admitted what he’d already guessed. She blinked in rapid succession, her long lashes reminding him that she was vulnerable, that inside her tough girl exterior was a marshmallow core. She just didn’t want anyone to see it.

“Me either.” He was getting to her—he could sense it.

“How about that root beer float first?”

“Tell me,” he said again. She was right about him. He’d take all the time necessary to get an answer from her.

“You’re not going to give up are you?” She crossed her arms.

He did the same. “No.”

“Fine. Whatever. Yes, I may have f-f-faltered during my last assignment. And the one before that, there was a problem as well. But it’s just a fluke. Nothing my boss needs to be worried about. Only he is. And he’s pissed at me. And well, he said this was my last chance.”

She let out enough air to fill a balloon and make it pop.

The boss. Finally, they were getting somewhere. “Your boss is going to kill you if you don’t kill me?”

“Most likely.”

He rubbed his chin. “What if I’m innocent?”

“Haven’t met an innocent yet.” Her eyes betrayed her words, and he got the impression she might just think him innocent. For now, anyway.

“I don’t suppose you can quit?”

“Sure. When I’m dead.” She smiled. The kind of tight-lipped smile that put a person a little on edge. “So can I have that root beer float now?”

He’d pressured her enough for one evening. It was time to ease off. A fierce need to protect her coursed through his blood, like it had when Max had been so distraught over Heather’s death. He couldn’t save his brother. Maybe he could save Tess. His heart lurched at the notion. In a very short time, she had wiggled her way into his heart.