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there. Hell no. She’s not the mission. He shook his head and searched for an appropriate response.
    As luck would have it, the waiter arrived at that moment with Rebecca’s coffee, and Rick was saved from having to figure out what to say.
    Rebecca took a few sips of her coffee before she spoke again. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to go all psycho.” She sighed. “I just feel so damn helpless.”
    “I can understand that. Being frustrated and angry, I mean.” He swirled the coffee in his cup and tried to explain in a way that wouldn’t make him seem cold. He’d already been cold for so long, and at the very least he didn’t want her to see him that way. “See, I think that sometimes a few really bad people can make life hell for a lot of really good people. For some reason, the good people seem to stay at the mercy of the bad. And most people are basically good.”
    “I don’t know about that.” Rebecca sipped her coffee delicately and licked a drop from her upper lip. His stomach bottomed out and he swallowed hard, waiting for her to continue, trying to focus on the conversation instead of her mouth. “I think it’s probably a pretty even mix of good and bad out there.” She paused and looked up, thoughtful. “But isn’t it the responsibility of good people to try eradicate evil? And if good people sit around doing nothing, doesn’t that essentially condone all the cruelty around them?”
    Rick hesitated, unsure how to answer. She was right. The inaction of honest human beings was the reason evil existed. It was the reason he was covered in scars, why he could never go home. He was just one person, trying to pick up the slack for thousands. “Maybe. But most good, honest people are not going to take action because they’re afraid of being a casualty.”
    Rebecca snorted. “That’s true. Most people don’t have the conviction to give up their life, even if it would save hundreds. Or thousands. Or even millions. I don’t know if I could either.”
    Rick watched her sip her coffee again. What would she say if he told her? If she knew he’d given up his identity, family, and essentially his personal freedom to fight an unseen and largely unknown enemy? How would she react if he told her how many times he’d barely dodged death? That every day held the possibility of being the last day he lived? The maj… Rick! Fucking Rick bit his tongue against the urge to tell her. He’d never wanted to tell anyone before. Instead of confessing, he cleared his throat and asked, “So you’re a believer in the old ‘one life for many’ adage?”
    “I think so.” She frowned at him. “I guess it depends on whose life it is.” She laughed suddenly, uncomfortably. “Wow, how did we get so serious over a cup of coffee?”
    Rick made an attempt to laugh with her and responded, “Yeah, pretty deep.” He had that effect on people. Maybe it was a result of being deadly serious for so many years. But no one laughed and joked with him anymore.
    “So, Rick, what sort of work are you in?”
    Oh nothing exciting. I hunt terrorists and terrorist groups across the globe. I track them down and kill them, sometimes taking the lives of good and innocent people as collateral damage. I’m basically a government-trained assassin. You?
    “Uh, I’m in construction.” Rick cleared his throat. “I hang drywall for housing and business developments.”
    Rebecca nodded and said, “Decent work.”
    “Yeah, it pays pretty well.” He knew it did. His father had hung drywall for years. Had he retired yet?
    “I’m a teacher. Second grade.”
    “I know.” As soon as the words left his mouth he bit back a curse. What the fuck was wrong with him? He scrambled to explain. “Earlier, when you were talking about calling CPS for a kid I was pretty sure you meant a student.”
    “Ah,” she said, nodding slowly. “For a minute there I was afraid you were a stalker.” She smiled brightly at him, and for a few seconds, Rick was unable