Read In the Arms of a Stranger (Entangled Ignite) for Free Online

when the last op went to hell, when JP’s life had disintegrated. “Who killed him?”
    “I don’t know.” She paused. “Brooks won’t tell me.”
    That fit, too. Good old Brooks. Tight-lipped son of a bitch.
    “He was just here, you know,” she said, her gaze intent on him.
    “Brooks?” JP couldn’t stop himself from looking out the living room window. “He was the one who came to the house earlier?”
    “Yes.”
    “What did he want?”
    “You. Though he didn’t say so.”
    He eyed her skeptically. “And you didn’t tell him I’m here?”
    She shrugged. “He didn’t ask.”
    But JP knew that wasn’t why she hadn’t told Brooks. There was only one possible reason. She wanted something from him. “What did he say?”
    She regarded him in the dim light. “He wanted to know if I’ve remembered anything else. About Wade. And he wants me to call him if any of Wade’s ‘Army buddies’ show up.”
    He’d expected this, of course. Brooks and the Agency knew he’d head straight for Wade. Hell, Brooks had probably ordered everyone at CIA, field op or not, to make it a priority to find him.
    “Don’t worry. I told him what I’ve told him every time he’s asked. What Wade told me to say,” she said.
    “Which is?”
    “Nothing. I tell him nothing. Ever.”
    Interesting. He hiked a brow, curious. “Why not?”
    She took a moment to reply. “Wade told me to trust only you.”
    The irony of her words hit him hard. He wouldn’t trust Wade farther than he could spit, yet Wade had told her to trust only him. Unless this was another lie Wade had coached her on.
    “So you waited for me all this time?” And didn’t say a word to Brooks…
    She nodded almost imperceptibly, and then fell silent. He felt an overwhelming urge to explain himself, but he had nothing to explain. None of this was his fault. He was the victim here.
    Wade had not contacted him. In fact, he’d laid a trail of clues implicating JP in treason and marking him for assassination. And now the bastard was dead.
    Killed, apparently.
    By whom? Why? Had his plans backfired on him?
    Wade had been a soldier, just like him. He’d never had a political agenda, no agenda whatsoever that JP was aware of. Hell, Wade had been a singularly uncomplicated man. Things were either black or white. To Wade, black was money, white was duty.
    But before he died, his best friend had, for some inexplicable reason, traded his white hat for black.
    “What took you so long to get here?” Abby asked.
    He considered a number of lies, possible scenarios that would soothe her enough to make her cooperate, but he found himself telling her the truth. Part of it anyway. “I never heard from him. I would have come immediately if I had.” It was true. A year ago, he would have done anything, risked anything, for Wade Price.
    But now, after running from the Agency and unknown shooters, traveling from Jordan to Lebanon to North Africa and finally back to the States with false documents, he wondered if he should have stayed away. That, of course, would never clear his name and he’d be on the run forever.
    He wished he could see her better in the dark, see her reaction, but she’d turned and the candlelight only illuminated the fine outer angle of her face.
    Finally, she nodded. “Okay. You’re here now. I want to know everything. Brooks won’t tell me. You’re my last hope of learning what really happened to my husband.”
    She wanted the same thing he did.
    But if he told her what he did know, it would destroy her.
    He shouldn’t care.
    But inexplicably, he did.
    Hell .
    JP had always considered himself a pragmatist. For the first time in a long time, he was about to act on emotion, not logic. But he wouldn’t lie. Not to her. And that surprised him even more.
    “I’ve been out of the country. I honestly don’t know what happened to Wade. That’s what I’m here to find out.”
    …
    For a week after Wade’s phone call, Abby had pictured this moment. JP