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She took a seat and pointedly ignored him, vividly aware of how attuned the analysts in this room were to vibes between people. Let them all think she and Ian hated each other’s guts. They wouldn’t be entirely wrong. The two of them had had a love-hate thing going from the very first time they’d met, now that she thought about it. More hate than love if Ian’s veiled glare was any indication.

Under any other circumstances, she would have been one of the Subject Matter Experts giving this briefing on the PHP, if not the lead briefer. She sat on the receiving side of the table this morning, however. Still, she leaned forward to listen critically. Maybe these guys had something to add to her already extensive knowledge of the PHP. Like what in the bloody hell had changed to send these guys up to the terrorist big leagues all of a sudden.

The overview the briefers gave her and Ian on the PHP sounded lifted pretty much verbatim out of her reports. There was one bit of new information that caught her attention, though. Surveillance indicated the group had expanded in size recently. The analysts speculated that it was possible the new blood might have radicalized the group. Which could also explain the recent activity in North Africa.

Then the legend-and-cover briefer startled her by announcing, “We’ve prepared a legend for the two of you as a married couple.”

She lurched forward in her seat while Ian threw himself backward in his. “Married?” they both squawked simultaneously.

Hey. Ian didn’t have to sound so outraged at the idea. She wasn’t a complete troll, and she’d rocked his world at least a little in the sack, thank you very much.

The briefer frowned at both of them. “Well, yes. You yourself describe the area as deeply conservative, religious, andsuspicious, Ms. Roth. A married couple raises less flags than a boyfriend-girlfriend pair.”

“We’re not going to infiltrate the PHP compound, are we?” Ian demanded.

She froze in horror. No way was she going into the PHP compound voluntarily! She glanced over at Ian and cursed under her breath. He’d caught her violent reaction to his question. Too damned observant, that man was.

“No, sir,” the briefer answered. She exhaled in profound relief as the guy continued, “But long-term surveillance will be difficult to maintain without the two of you being spotted by locals.”

“Why?” Ian demanded.

Piper tuned out as the briefer explained. She’d been in that corner of Idaho before. A lot. She knew the answer already. Everyone watched everyone else. Everyone knew everyone else. Everyone gossiped about everyone else. Anonymity was impossible.

As it was, she needed to consider changing her appearance before they commenced operations. She’d been toying with getting a haircut anyway. And she could go brunette. She’d always secretly fantasized about having dark, mysterious locks and dramatic coloring instead of her fair, pale hair- and skin-tones. A chin-length bob?—

“Piper?”

She looked up sharply at Ian. “Sorry. What?”

“Do you want to work a regional accent into your legend?”

“Nah. Generic mid-western will raise less flags in Elkville than a distinctive accent of some kind.”

The briefer continued, “You’ve been married under a year. That way, if you don’t know things about each other, it can be explained away.”

“And we’ll be in Elkville why?” Ian asked.

The briefer grinned. “You’re looking for someplace to settle. A simpler way of life. Not sure about going entirely off grid but definitely interested in being more self-sufficient.”

“How did we hear about this place?” Ian fired at the guy.

The briefer passed a slightly crumpled pamphlet across the table. Piper couldn’t help the shudder that passed through her at seeing the PHP pamphlet. Everything it stood for made her faintly ill.

“You okay?” Ian murmured to her.

Damn him and his mad observation skills. “I’ll be fine,” she snapped.

“Future tense. Not fine now. Why not?”

Sometimes, she seriously wished he were a little less quick on the uptake. She huffed. “I’m good, now. Everything’s fine. Perfect.”

The pucker between his brows deepened, but he said nothing more.

The briefer picked up with, “A military transport will fly you to Montana. A pick-up truck will be waiting for you. The two of you will drive to Elkville. Rent a cabin in the Trout Creek Fishing Camp just outside of town, then commence your surveillance op. Your cover is that you’re enjoying a hunting and fishing vacation while scoping out the area?—“

The briefing room door slammed open and Ian’s boss burst in, announcing without preamble, “New plan. We may have spotted Abahdi. Or rather, his daughter.”

“Where?” Piper blurted. What was Abahdi’s target?