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“He’s former British special forces and oversees LAI’s security teams in Afghanistan.”
Emily grimaced. “Ugh, which means he’s probably an alphahole.”
Sophia gave her friend a questioning look.
“You know the type,” Emily said with a shrug, “bossy, overprotective, demanding.” She took a sip of wine and arched a brow at Sophia over the rim of her glass. “Someone like my dad and brother.”
Sophia huffed out a laugh. She could imagine Lachlan was all those things. “You are way too hard on your dad and Alex. Be grateful they care. You know what kind of family I grew up in.”
She sobered. “Lachlan is suffering. I think something bad happened when he was in the military. We haven’t known each other long, but we have a connection. One he’s trying to fight.”
She should be, too. It was becoming harder to remember that her need to gain his trust was so she could spy on him.
Emily would have a fit if she knew what her father had asked Sophia to do.
A huge yawn cracked open Emily’s lips. She gave Sophia a bleary-eyed smile. “Still on Paris time. I need to hit the sack.” She gave Sophia’s hand a quick squeeze. “Be careful. You tend to think the best of people. Don’t get your heart broken because you think you can save this guy.”
Roshan Haider sat in the silver BMW he’d hired long after Lachlan Mackay’s dark blue Mercedes drove off, the deep growl of its engine fading into the night.
What game was his contact playing that he’d sent Roshan to Afghanistan, to Khan, to learn the identity of Nadia’s killer when he had to have already known it was Mackay?
His anger only increased after what he’d just witnessed, Mackay’s passionate embrace with a petite red-haired woman. The bastard was going on with his life as if he hadn’t murdered Roshan’s sister in cold blood.
A rhythm of rage pounded Roshan’s temple and pulsed behind his eyes.
Nadia had made mistakes, but she hadn’t deserved to die. He and his father could have convinced the British government to drop the charges against his sister if she had lived.
They’d never gotten the chance because of Mackay, mad for revenge.
Roshan had planned to expose the former SAS soldier to the public as his sister’s killer. Now his thoughts shifted, coalesced around a different objective. Did this woman matter to Mackay? What would he do to keep her safe?
He shoved the car into drive and backed out of the space. It had been a long two days of travel, and he needed sleep. For now, he’d head back to his hotel in Georgetown. Tomorrow morning he’d return and be back every morning until he learned this woman’s routine.
Lachlan Mackay needed to know what it felt like to be afraid.
Chapter Eleven
“What’sthispaintingyouneed my truck for? Got a picture of it?”
Nathan’s question had Lachlan’s shoulders tightening Saturday morning as he climbed into the cab of his mate’s pickup. “You’ll see when we pick it up.”
“Not if they packed it properly, I won’t. It’ll be wrapped up tighter than a tick.” Nathan grinned and waggled his brows. “To quote Brad Paisley, loosely, is your priceless French painting a drunk, naked girl?”
“The painting is of a historic battle,” Lachlan snapped, “it’s Scottish, not French, and who the bloody hell is Brad Paisley?”
Nathan’s grin widened until Lachlan thought he would go blind from all the perfectly straight, white teeth aimed in his direction. “Sounds boring, and I don’t believe you for a minute. I must see proof.”
Lachlan shot Nathan a dirty look and, after a moment’s hesitation, pulled out his phone and swiped to the photos he’d taken Thursday evening. With an inward sigh, he braced for what was coming.
“Who’s the hot little redhead?”
And there it was.
“Just a colleague.” The words dragged reluctantly over his tongue. “She wasn’t my date.” They had left together, however. His body tightened at the memory of Sophia’s soft lips and pliant curves when he’d given into temptation and kissed her.
“Uh-huh. You took several pictures of your sexy little ‘just a coworker,’ and from the look on your face, you’ve got an interesting slideshow running through your head. Wait,” Nathan’s brows drew together, “this isn’t the same coworker that”—he made air quotes—“annoyed you, is it? Have you slept with her yet?”
“No, and I’m not going to.” The last thing Lachlan needed was to be distracted by a woman and lose sight of his mission—find Khan’s weapons supplier, knock the warlord from his lofty perch, and avenge the fallen.