Double Agent. Lisa Phillips

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      When the doors opened on the lobby, Doug tensed. Through the crowd of people milling around, he spotted his teammate assigned to the lobby—Franklin. Despite being in his late thirties, Franklin had the air of a middle-aged banker about him that allowed him to blend in anywhere.

      Doug shifted his grip on Sabine’s hand, and they strode to the front counter where she checked out of the hotel.

      After signing A. Surleski on the receipt, she looked at him. “It’s past lunch. I’m going to need something to eat pretty soon.”

      Doug looked her up and down. “You seem like a woman way too concerned about her appearance to be worried about something as pesky as eating.”

      Her eyes narrowed. “They do say that looks can be deceiving.”

      He doubted that. He knew her type. The expensive clothes said enough, but the way she held herself spoke much louder. He had a nagging feeling this woman was going to prove to be high maintenance when it served her purpose.

      “In this case, I can read you loud and clear.” He folded his arms across his chest. “But since I’m hungry, too, I guess we can rustle up something.” He shot a look at the receptionist. The guy was busy typing into his computer. “After we join the others in our party and finish up our business, of course.”

      Her dangly gold earrings shook back and forth with the motion of her head. “There’s a restaurant next door, remember? We can pick something up there.”

      “Oh, really?”

      “Yes, really. I’m telling you—”

      He stopped listening. The two guys who had chased them down the hall stepped off the elevator. “Time to go.”

      Doug strode to the side door, careful not to rush and draw anyone’s attention. Dragged along by his grip, Sabine let out a yelp. He rolled his eyes and looked back. She made a valiant effort to keep up with his long strides. This had better be about her ankle. She’d better not be being difficult just because she wanted to go it alone.

      The air outside was like stepping into a sauna. Doug quickened his pace, and heard a stir of noise and movement behind them. He cut right, pulled Sabine along the sidewalk and watched for a place to cross.

      “They’re coming.” Her voice was a hiss. “They’re right behind us.”

      He glanced back, and, sure enough, the men had exited the hotel and spotted them. With a shout, the suits started to run.

      “Go. Now,” Doug ordered.

      A battered sedan pulled in front of them. Doug swerved, skirted the front bumper and glanced back. Franklin was nowhere to be seen, and the men were gaining on them.

      “We’re not going to make it,” Sabine answered, but he was too focused on moving and on the voice in his earpiece to respond.

      “Ten feet to your left. Yellow cab.”

      They climbed in before the driver even stopped.

      “Drive.” Doug threw a wad of cash onto the front seat, and the driver hit the gas pedal. “Airport.”

      The radio in his ear clicked. “Copy that. Party’s over, friends. MacArthur, we’ll see you back at the house.”

      With that, the team was dispersed to make their own way back to the U.S., where they would rendezvous on base for debrief.

      Beside him in the cab, Sabine pulled her hand from his grip and rubbed her wrist. Doug ignored his heavy heart, even as it added to the measure of weight he already carried. What would Sabine say when she found out what he’d done? A woman like her would probably slap him across the face. He deserved it for his part in her brother’s death.

      He glanced out the back window. The two suited guys stood in the middle of the road outside the hotel. The bigger man formed his fingers into an imaginary gun, which he raised and fired at them.

      Sabine flinched.

      “We got away,” Doug whispered, trying to reassure her. “They won’t catch up to us again. I’ll make sure of it.”

      She looked at him. “Because you’re so good, you’re certain? Wow, you’re arrogant.”

      Doug shrugged, deliberately nonchalant. He needed answers from her. Needed her to talk and not retreat again. “It’s true. I’m good at what I do. Once I have what I want, I’ll be out of your life for good.”

      Sabine shifted away from him and kept her voice at a low whisper, too. “Don’t make this out to be my fault.”

      “I stop at nothing to get a job done. It’s very important you understand that. And to be doubly sure that we’re clear? This is the most important thing I’ve ever done.”

      “It’s my brother you’re talking about.”

      He dipped his chin and leaned toward her. “Then we’re on the same team. Only you want to walk away because your mission went wrong. Well, I don’t give up that easily. I want the truth about what happened to Ben.”

      Sabine’s eyes went wide. “I’m not giving you the hard drive.”

      “You think I care about salvaging your reputation? I couldn’t care less about you saving face with your superiors or whoever it is you lone-wolf types report to.”

      “You just said we’re on the same team.”

      He rolled his eyes again, this time to mask the fact he was impressed with the way she had twisted the conversation around and used his own words against him. “Does that mean you’re going to help me find out who killed Ben and why?”

      She stared at him for a good minute. “I’ll help you.”

      He looked out the front window. The old man driving the cab alternately looked at the road and glanced back at them, probably straining to hear what they were saying.

      “When we’re back in the States, I’ll tell you whatever I know.”

      Doug had a valid passport that was part of his government-issue cover identity and a credit card, so he could easily get a ticket on the same flight as Sabine. The problem was, he was suddenly in no hurry to rush back to the lengthy questioning sure to follow. And Sabine was hungry. If he fed her, maybe she would let him in now.

      Doug tapped the driver on the shoulder. “We need food. Find us somewhere to eat.”

      The driver, who looked like the sun had baked him on high for too long, jerked his head up and down. “I take you to my mama’s café. Best meal of your life.”

      “Good.” Doug glanced at Sabine, who really shouldn’t look that surprised. He was a nice guy. He handed the driver more money. “Make it fast.”

      Ten minutes later they pulled up outside a bleached building with a sign that read Mama’s Café. After some discussion and more money, Sabine convinced the driver they needed to take her bag inside with them.

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