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I figured it couldn’t hurt. Unfortunately, I figured wrong. He bribed the right people, doctored the right records, and pulled the rug out from under my feet. The day he served me with divorce papers, he had the sheriff escort me from my own home.”
    “And you didn’t go to your family when all this happened?” he asked, taken aback.
    “We’ve grown apart since my divorce. My mom and my sister were completely taken in by Justin. They think he’s god’s gift to women, me especially. Justin somehow ‘explained’ the situation in a way that makes me out to be the bad guy. My sister sided with him completely, and my mom thinks we should ‘work something out’ and share the house. My dad doesn’t like Justin or approve of his behavior, but my mom and sister have railroaded him into going along with them. Basically, my family sucks right now.”
    His grip on the steering wheel tightened as she talked, tensing until his hands burned and he felt some give in the steering wheel. He bit his tongue to stop from offering to beat the shit out of her ex. He’d do it if she asked, and with great relish, but maybe she’d seen enough violence today. Hell, he’d killed a dozen or more men in front of her just hours ago.
    “You look sinister right now,” Ella said.
    “I was thinking of offering to do some bodily harm,” he admitted.
    Ella stared at him for a full minute, making him shift uncomfortably in his seat. Women didn’t usually stare him down, nor did they make him feel so uncertain. He scowled at the steering wheel.
    “Who the hell are you?” Ella finally asked. “You came out of nowhere, pulled me out of that horrible place, and now you’re saying all these nice things to me. I don’t get you, and I don’t get what you want from me.”
    Walker bit his tongue again. He wasn’t even sure what he would have said, but he had the idea that it would either be raunchy or awkward. She crossed her arms, which only served to accent the breasts he was trying not to notice. She wore no bra, and he kept pretending that he hadn’t been eyeing the shape of her nipples through the thin cotton of her shirt.
    “Well…” he said, unsure how to start. He didn’t talk to people much if he could help it, much less explain his whole identity to someone else.
    “I’m Walker Black. I’m thirty-four. I was born in Marietta, Georgia, just a few minutes north of Atlanta. Foster kid, joined the Navy at seventeen, joined the CIA at twenty two, retired to private life at twenty eight. That’s pretty much all there is to know.”
    Ella gave him a strange look.
    “Really? That’s it?”
    “I can’t think of anything else that’s need-to-know,” he said, shifting in his seat once more.
    Ella turned in her seat, digging into her duffel bag. She pulled out a magazine, slapping it down on the arm rest and thrusting a finger down onto the glossy cover. Walker didn’t even have to look closely. He and Lucas were on the cover of last month’s Financial Guardian , looking casually suave in matching navy suits. They’d been dressed, coiffed, and posed.
    “Ah,” he said, clearing his throat. “Yeah. I was on the cover.”
    “I can see that,” Ella said, her expression pinched. She flipped open the magazine to his feature, reading off the bold-printed information.
    “Apparently you two are worth more than a billion dollars apiece. You’re single, and ‘ not looking to settle down in finance or in romance ’,” she quoted.
    “Ella-” he began, but she interrupted.
    “There’s more. They ask here why you do so much charity work, and you reply: ‘I’m not naturally inclined to do things for others. I’m very selfish, and I always look out for myself first. Charity work is the other side of the coin, a way to find balance.’ ”
    “I did say that, but-”
    Ella held up a hand, silencing him. Walker’s jaw closed with a snap. He felt like a character in Freaky Friday, because he was always the one handling other