Mark grips my shoulders and turns me to him. He then takes my face in his hands and kisses me. I grip his arms while he clutches me against him. I lose myself so quickly that it terrifies me. He shouldn’t be able to unbalance me, yet that’s exactly what happens when he touches me. Mark elicits the vulnerable side of me, and I hate him for it.

I pull back and run my fingers through my hair, gripping the sides in frustration. “Stop doing that!”

“Doing what?”

“Kissing me like that!” I shout. “Stop making this harder than it has to be.”

“Wanna tell me again it’s just sex?”

I glare at him. “That’s exactly what that was. It won’t happen again. You need to wake up and see what’s happening.”

He takes a step closer. “Don’t worry about me, babe. I plan to handle it, and then we’ll see what you say when this happens again.”

“It won’t.”

“Oh, it will.” His voice is ice cold. “You’ll be on your knees begging for my dick.” He presses his body against mine with his arm hooked around my back. “Only next time I won’t be surprised when you slap me. I’ll be ready for you. I’ll hold back until tears fall from your eyes and you want nothing but me. Then . . .” He pauses when my breath hitches. “I’ll fuck you until you’re begging me to stop.”

I want to deny that his words turn me on, but the moisture between my legs proves otherwise. I want to throw him on the bed and screw his brains out. However, I do have some sense of control. There will be none of that. This ends now. “We’re done here. There will be no more of us until you handle your friends and everything that’s going on.”

I push away from him and walk out into the main cabin of the plane. Mark Dixon is playing a game that could kill us both. I can’t be around him until we know what we’re dealing with. I need to learn who’s following me and hunting us both. We have too much at stake to let this happen.

“What? Where are we?” I ask as the plane lands, and not in the Washington DC area.

“California,” he responds, as if this is to be expected. “We need to talk to someone.”

“We? How about you should’ve asked me!”

Mark smirks and then leans back in his seat. “Listen, I need answers and you’re a human lie detector. If Jackson knows anything, you’re the best chance at finding out.”

I inwardly groan. I see his point, but this means I need to spend more time around him. “Fine. You have two days.”

We arrive at Jackson’s office outside San Diego. Mark and I discuss his plan, but he doesn’t have one. He just wants to wing it, which scares me.

“Muff!” Mark yells as he throws the door open to the tiny room. “You got some ’splainin’ to do,” he says in his best I Love Lucy impression.

“What the fuck? Oh,” he says after spotting me behind Mark. “Hey, Charlie.”

“Jackson.” I smile and put my personal feelings aside. I need to assess his demeanor. He’s clearly surprised by our arrival, but I have a feeling Mark lacks the finesse in handling this.

“So, who did you piss off now? Since it’s clear we’re being hunted.”

I was right.

Jackson, though, was an intelligence officer for the SEALs. We share some of the same training. As much as our visit is unexpected, it seems this question isn’t. “I don’t know. I’ve been going over every shred of information I have, and I can’t figure it out.”

“It’s clearly on you, Muff.”

“No shit, Mark. I know this is on me. I know all of this is on me.”

He moves around the desk and sits. I take a closer look at him. His dark brown hair is messy. The color in his eyes seems dim, as if he’s barely hanging on. And the dark circles under his eyes clearly show lack of sleep. I’m not sure if this affirms guilt or shows stress. Whatever it is, it’s certain Jackson Cole is not himself.

“Why do you do this time and time again?” Mark bursts out, his arms thrown in the air. “You never learn.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

I sit back and watch the two of them.

“You take it all on yourself. You make it your life’s mission to be the goddamn hero. You’re either into some shady shit, Muff, or you pissed off someone big.”

Jackson surges to his feet and braces his hands on the desk as he glares at Mark. “You think I’m behind this?” His voice is laced in acid. “You came here thinking I have some part in this? After all this time, you think I would ever jeopardize my friends? Get the fuck out!” He points to the door.

“No.” Mark stands his ground.

“I swear to God, Mark. Get out before I kick your ass from here back to Virginia.”

“You can try, but you’re going to answer my questions, and then we’ll figure out what’s going on.”

Jackson glares at Mark, “Some friend you are!”

This can’t be easy on either of them, but I commend Mark for not beating around the bush. On the other hand, he could’ve done better at allowing some information to be extracted differently. He’d never last in my department.

“I’m not the one getting us picked off like target practice.”

I stand and move toward the other chair, a little more out of the way. While neither of them seems to remember I’m there, I want to stay farther in the shadows. Mark grips my arm before I can slink away. “Stay here.”

Jackson huffs. “You’ve been my friend a long time. You’ve been through it all. You really think I’m capable of this?”

“You want this to stop, Muff? Time to prove it.”

Jackson shoves aside some papers and then grabs a folder. “You want to know what I know? Here!” He shoves the folder toward us. I decide I want to see it first. “It’s all there.”

I open it and start to read through. There are a lot of surveillance photos—some of Mazir, his men, and my asset, others of the area where Aaron was detained, and a few are satellite photos of the IED right at the explosion site. There’re a few notes regarding the timeline and a guy I’ve never heard of before. Nothing of significance, but it’s proof he’s investigating it himself. “Who’s Neil?”

“Catherine’s ex,” he answers abruptly. He’s clearly pissed off, but he can’t blame anyone for being suspicious. “He works for a company we deal with frequently.”

“Does Catherine know?” Mark asks from beside me.

“Fuck, no. I’m not bringing that low life piece of shit’s name up. I’m watching him and having one of our FBI friends monitor him, too. Anything else?” he snaps.

I hand the folder back to him, and Mark pulls me against him. “Jackson,” I say, and draw his attention. “I’ve seen people do unimaginable things, as have you—and Mark. We’ve all witnessed people at their absolute worst. It’s kind of our mentality to assume that before anything else.”

“I get that, but not from him. You don’t know me, so fine. But him,” he points at Mark. “He knows better.”