The Girl Next Door. Cynthia Eden

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      That half smile flashed again. Did he have a dimple in his cheek? It looked like he did.

      Sexy.

      “I’d love to hear the proposition.”

      He made it sound...hot. It wasn’t. She put her fork down. “I want us to work together.” She tried not to let the words come out as desperate.

      He kept eating.

      “I think we could make a good team. We could keep investigating the cases and find the killer—”

      “I’m not in the market for a partner.”

      Okay. He was going to make her lay everything out for him. She’d have to show that desperation, after all. “But I am in the market for some protection.” Because she was afraid, and Gabrielle didn’t want to let the fear stop her from doing her job. “I think someone has been watching me. I think he has been watching me.”

      * * *

      “TELL ME AGAIN...” Dylan Foxx began as he narrowed his eyes on Rachel Mancini. “Why is Cooper having a cozy dinner with the reporter? He’s supposed to be keeping her out of this mess and not—”

      “—seducing her?” Rachel finished. She’d seen the way Cooper looked at the other woman. She knew exactly what was on his mind.

      Dylan shut the door of his office. They were in the EOD headquarters, a place most civilians would never visit. Actually, most civilians would never even know of its existence.

      The EOD was a hybrid organization, one composed of former members of various military branches. The EOD had been founded and was still led by Bruce Mercer. The EOD was far off the books, and the agents took jobs that no one else could handle.

      Jobs that often ended in violence. Death.

      The EOD agents were the ones who went out after the hostages that couldn’t be rescued. They were the ones who eliminated the most dangerous threats in the world.

      Right now, unfortunately, one of those threats came from within.

      A rogue agent.

      Suspicion was rampant in the EOD. Trust, the cornerstone of the agency’s success, was being shattered. If you couldn’t trust the agent who had your back in the field, how were you supposed to complete the mission?

      Rachel sank into the chair near Dylan’s desk. She trusted him 100 percent. But she wasn’t ready to extend that trust to all of the agents at the EOD.

      They all knew how to kill, lie and keep secrets.

      Someone was using those deadly skills.

      “I could see them through the window,” Rachel murmured. Not that she enjoyed the Peeping-Tom bit. “They went into the kitchen and the guy cooked.”

      “Cooper?” Dylan’s dark brows shot up.

      She nodded. “Maybe he’s just trying to get under her guard. The lady has proven to be pretty resourceful.”

      “The lady’s dangerous.” He threw himself into the chair near her. Leather groaned. “I ran down her bio. She’s got a trail of awards behind her and a reputation for being a real bulldog when it comes to her stories. She’s latched on to our killer, and I don’t see her just backing away now.”

      Not even after a trip to the hospital.

      “The more time she spends with Cooper, the more likely she is to discover that his cover is a lie.” Dylan ran a hand through his black hair. “The last thing we need is her trying to air a story on the EOD.”

      “We aren’t on her radar.” Rachel had done her own research on Gabrielle Harper. “She works to help victims. She’s not even thinking about us.”

      “Not yet, she isn’t. But if she’s used to uncovering secrets, how long do you think it will be before she senses Cooper is hiding something from her?”

      “Well that depends,” Rachel said as her gaze held his, “on just how good Cooper is at lying. It’s been my experience that some men are extremely talented when it comes to deceit.”

      There was a sharp rap at the door.

      Dylan held her gaze for a moment longer. “You know you can trust me.”

      Yes, she did, as a partner, as a friend.

      As a lover?

      No, she couldn’t risk that. She’d gone down the wrong path with a lover before. She still had the scars to prove it—scars that marked her on the inside and out.

      She cleared her throat and called, “Come in!”

      The door swung open. Aaron “Deuce” Porter stood on the other side of the threshold. His green gaze swept between them. “Didn’t mean to interrupt anything.” His voice was low.

      “You’re not,” Rachel said flatly.

      Deuce’s lips twisted a bit. Deuce had been with the EOD for years—long before Rachel had come aboard. She’d worked several missions with him and learned quickly why the brown-haired agent had earned the moniker of Deuce.

      The man could blend like no other. Undercover missions were his specialty. He often joked that he hadn’t been born with just one face—but two.

      Deuce. He could be two people in an instant, and had been, on missions in Rio, South Africa and the Middle East. He could drop an accent, change his walk, even change all of his mannerisms in an instant.

      Two men—in one lethal body.

      “Mercer briefed me on the case,” he said as he came inside. He closed the door behind him. “I’m supposed to provide backup for your team.” His smile faded. “Seems a reporter is getting a little too close on this one.”

      “Yes...” Dylan sighed out his answer. “But Cooper is working on her.”

      Now Deuce did laugh. “Well, Cooper has always had a way with the ladies.”

      Rachel’s eyes narrowed.

      “Love ’em and leave ’em,” Deuce said. “If anyone can get the reporter under control, I’m sure it will be him.”

      Rachel’s hands clenched into fists. “I think you’re underestimating this woman. A little seduction isn’t going to put her off track.”

      “Well, if that doesn’t work—” Deuce’s shoulders straightened “—option number two is a whole lot less pleasant for her. According to Mercer, the woman isn’t to interfere in EOD business. Stopping her is a priority, even if we have to use containment.”

      Containment? On a civilian?

      Mercer must really be worried. They hadn’t crossed that line, not since—

      Rachel cut off the thought. She didn’t want to go into the darkness of her past. Not then.

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