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Audrey. Audrey Scott.”
“From somewhere in south Mississippi,” he murmured.
She slanted another look at him. “What makes you think that, hotshot?”
“In Kaziristan, you had your accent almost completely contained,” he said, pleased that he’d managed to surprise her. “But you’ve been living in Tennessee for a while now, surrounded by people who talk a lot like the people from where you grew up. Your accent has come out to play again.”
She pressed her lips into a tight line. When she spoke again, that subtle hint of Mississippi had been ruthlessly stripped away. “I won’t make that mistake again.”
“I like the accent,” he admitted. He’d heard it now and then, back when they were sneaking moments of passion in a Kaziristan hotel. When she’d started to lose control, her Mississippi accent had slipped out more than once. “It’s sexy.”
The look she shot his way would have been lethal if it had been a bullet.
Before he got a chance to enjoy his small victory, Amanda released a soft curse.
“What?”
“There’s a police cruiser about a quarter mile back. Coming up fast.” She spoke in a flat, grim tone.
Rick’s gut tightened, but he’d been trained by MacLear to keep his head in a threatening situation. He imagined her CIA training had been even better preparation.
“Let’s determine one thing right now,” he said, fighting to keep the punch of adrenaline out of his voice. “No cops get shot, no matter what happens. If we have to talk our way through the truth, it’s better than killing a cop.”
She grimaced at him. “What do you think I am?”
“A burned CIA agent without much to lose.”
“Technically, I wasn’t burned. I was relieved of duty. They didn’t cut me off completely.” Her voice didn’t hold a lot of conviction, Rick noticed.
“Just keep doing what you’re doing. Stay in the right lane and keep to the speed limit.” He pulled his jacket back on, hoping the bloody rip in the dark leather wouldn’t catch the policeman’s eye if he pulled them over.
The cruiser approached in the side mirror, moving at a clip. Rick resisted the urge to turn and look out the back windshield. Talk about drawing attention to them—
“He’s passing us,” Amanda murmured.
Rick kept his gaze straight ahead, ignoring the police cruiser until it passed. He allowed himself to breathe again.
“One threat averted,” Amanda said. “It won’t be the last.”
“You really have no idea who’d be gunning for you?”
“I have no idea who’d think I’m significant enough to pay for a hit.”
Rick leaned his head back against the headrest, trying to think his way through the chaotic mess of the past three hours. It had started, for him, with the phone call to Cooper Security from Alexander Quinn claiming to be Derrick Lambert and wanting a meeting in Knoxville. Clearly, he’d wanted Rick to be in the area when Amanda called.
He’d known Rick would recognize the voice. He’d known he couldn’t walk away without trying to see her.
“You called me. Where did you get the number?” he asked aloud, rolling his head to the side so he could look at her.
She slanted a quick look his way. “Someone left a package on my front steps. Your number was inside the package.”
“Just my number?”
“Mostly. You know me. Curious as a cat.”
Cautious as a mouse was more like it, he thought. At least these days. “So Quinn sent you my number, and he arranged for me to be within an hour’s drive from where you lived.”
“Looks that way,” she said carefully.
“And he pretty much put me in a position to deliver a warning to you. But why me? Why didn’t he give it to you himself?”
Her lips curved a little, making his breath catch. Time had given her a lean, feral look she hadn’t possessed when he’d known her three years ago, but when she smiled, he saw the ghost of the vibrant, fearless woman he’d spent a few glorious months loving in the heart of a war zone.
“Why does Alexander Quinn