Mason’s answering look was unreadable. It was disconcerting. “I hope so” was all he said.

We finally settled on an old episode of M*A*S*H. I wasn’t a big fan but Mason seemed to enjoy it. He put his arm around my shoulders and I snuggled into his side, pretending to watch the TV.

All the while looking at the room around me. Looking for something.

Anything to read him better.

He wasn’t the only one who could find out about people by focusing on the details.

“Can I use your bathroom?” I asked suddenly.

“Yeah, sure. It’s just down the hallway, last door on the left. How about I make some popcorn? You like popcorn? If not popcorn, how about some chips and salsa? What do you like to eat?” He was still probing. It should have bugged me, but I found myself flattered.

Damn it.

“Popcorn sounds great.”

I made my way to the bathroom, turned on the light, and closed the door without going inside. With a quick glance back toward the living room, I ducked into the only other room—the bedroom.

I turned on the light to find the cat asleep on the bed. He lifted his head and yawned but otherwise paid me no mind.

Listening for Mason, I quickly began to rummage through his belongings. Looking for—

A battered briefcase sat on a chair in the corner.

Could he really be that stupid? Could it be that easy?

I hurried over and picked it up. Opening it, I found it full of case files.

I was having a hard time breathing. Hyperventilation seemed a distinct possibility. Hannah and espionage didn’t go well together, apparently.

I saw a name that immediately caught my attention.

Freedom Overdrive.

Shit.

This was it.

He had brought his files home. What self-respecting FBI agent did something so foolish?

An overconfident one. A man who was sure he’d never be compromised.

An idiot with no freaking clue.

With shaking hands I started to open it.

“Hannah?”

I quickly shoved the file back into the briefcase and closed it.

I hurried to the middle of the room, preparing what I was going to say once Mason found me standing in his bedroom like some crazy stalker.

“Uh, hey,” I said once he appeared in the doorway.

Mason frowned. “Did you get lost? I didn’t think the directions were that difficult.”

I laughed nervously. Could he tell?

I had to give him something. Maybe a little truth.

“I’m not going to lie; I was being nosy.” I lifted my hands in the air in defeat, hoping they weren’t shaking too badly.

Mason glanced around the room, his eyes taking in everything. Perhaps making sure I hadn’t lifted anything. I saw the doubt there.

Fuck.

I had to stop that before it created irreparable damage.

“I like you, Mason. I want to know more about you too,” I said softly, ducking my head shyly.

I curled my hands into fists, digging my nails into my palms. My nerves would be my undoing. I had to calm down.

“Then you could just ask, like I was trying to do earlier.” His voice was sharp, his words suspicious.

I glanced up at him; his face was hard. “I wasn’t snooping through your drawers. I just—I don’t know—wanted to get a better sense of you. Get a vibe from your space. And I was wanting to rub on this cutie a bit more.” I sat down on the bed and scratched the cat’s head.

Mason didn’t say anything for a while and I didn’t dare look at him. Instead I continued to rub his cat, hoping and praying that I hadn’t screwed everything up.

And I sure as hell didn’t look at the briefcase on the chair.

The bed dipped as Mason sat down beside me. “I didn’t mean to bite your head off, but my career makes me question everyone and everything. It’s a bad habit in personal relationships,” he explained.

I wasn’t out of the woods yet. I had to be careful.

“I shouldn’t have just come into your bedroom. That’s violating. I’m sorry,” I said, chancing a look, and was relieved at the absence of anger.

“Yeah, well, I get it. I was being a little snoopy at your place earlier too.”

Which is why I never leave myself out in the open.

Nothing for anyone to find…

Unlike the briefcase.

Mason put his hand on the back of my head and gave me a gentle tug toward him. “When you like someone, you want to know everything,” he murmured.

I relaxed. Back on even ground.

“Yeah, I guess so. I’m not the best at asking the questions,” I told him. Excusing my monumental fuckup in the best way I could.

“Me either. But let’s try that before we start sifting through each other’s dirty laundry,” Mason suggested with a smile.

“Deal.”

Then we were kissing again.

And I allowed myself, for the moment, to forget about the briefcase.

And what it meant that I was making out with the man who hunted me.

Chapter 9

Hannah

My legs were tangled in my sheets. They were new. Scratchy. I hated them. I’d have to throw them out.

This was what happened when you did all your shopping online. You never quite knew what you’d end up with.

The air was cool on my bare skin. My lips felt bruised. Tender. My body exposed. Alone in my bedroom, I imagined eyes on me. Watching me.

My stomach was a convoluted mess of tangles and knots and I felt faintly sick.

I stared up at the dark ceiling, momentarily hating myself.

I thought about Mason.

I wondered whether he was lying awake thinking of me.

I hoped he was.

But for reasons that worried me.

Tonight had been perfect. Everything had fallen into place just as I had planned.

I should be celebrating my success.

I had played the part just right.

So why did I want to scream?

“You wanna get out of here?”

He had given me the opening I needed.

I was in.

I had been within reach of what I was looking for.

I had to know how close he was.

What information he had.

The sense of self-preservation was thick. It propelled me to do things I would never otherwise entertain.

It made me deceive a stranger.

A perfectly wonderful stranger…

I couldn’t sleep. I was too wired to close my eyes and drift off into nothing. My mind raced and I knew that rest wouldn’t come.