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the supple mounds of her breasts.
    Where was his mind? Sure as shit, not paying attention to his surroundings. He’d been concerned about getting her fresh clothes and some food. He should have known they’d be tracking him. Or her.
    “Mia, tell me what you know, and I’ll figure out the rest.” Her warmth pressed against his arm.
    “I’m a therapist at a military base outside DC. I’d been seeing a patient who recently returned from a covert op in South America. Mostly routine stuff. But overnight he became…” Her voice cracked.
    “You’re okay. I promise. Just trust me.”
    She took a deep breath. “He became what I thought was paranoid. He said he had a file.”
    “A file?”
    “Yes. He hid it at the airport. A human trafficker was after him. He said if he turned up dead, I needed to get that file to a contact in DC.”
    Winters saw a cop ahead and slowed down to the speed limit. “Why didn’t he just pass on the file himself?”
    “I don’t know.” She leaned against his arm.
    “Okay, then what happened?”
    “Military police showed up at my office to ask questions. They said he jumped off his apartment balcony. He lived on the 14 th floor.” Tears brimmed, and she blinked rapid-fire. “That’s not possible. He wouldn’t have.”
    Winters looked down at her in the crook of his arm. “Do you know what’s on that file?”
    She shrugged, silent.
    Oh, she knows.
    “It’s worth killing for?” He accelerated through traffic again, growing more anxious with what she might say.
    Mia nodded. “If you’re the South American human trafficker, warlord type, then yes. It’d be worth killing for.”
    “Which you know I’m not, so tell me what’s in the file.” He tried to give her his most trustworthy face. It wasn’t a well-practiced look for him.
    Seconds ticked by. Her eyes narrowed, her fingers fretted, and she sucked in a long breath. “He said it was a list of covert agents in deep cover in South America. Names, faces, identities of those infiltrating the cartels.”
    “Good God. We’re talking spies and undercover agents? A nonofficial cover list? You pursued a NOC list? On your own?” She obviously had no idea how dangerous that was. A death wish for the untrained, and Miss Khakis-and-Cardigan was definitely untrained. Determined, yes, but that wouldn’t keep a bullet from stopping her dead.
    “He bought it off some local tribe leader who was more interested in cash than outing a US agency.”
    “And now someone traced the file back to the States and wants it. I need to figure out how my client plays into this. And how they knew where the package was. Hell, how the other guys did, too.”
    “I had notes.” She grimaced.
    His fingers drummed on the steering wheel, and he waited for more.
    “I made notes in my file on him. I didn’t think there was any merit to what he said. I wrote it down so I wouldn’t forget about it, in case I needed to reference it in our sessions. I honestly thought he had delusions.”
    Winters pressed a button on his phone and connected to Jared. After he recapped everything to boss man, he nodded and hung up. “The other team must have learned the location after reading your notes.”
    “They have my client notes?” Mia grasped his forearm. Emotion ran visible across her cheeks. He couldn’t tell if it was anger or embarrassment. She needed him to say something, anything. He had no idea what though.
    Fuck it . He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, hugging her. It was some form of comfort. One he hadn’t much practice at, but she needed at least that much and, though he had no idea how to ease pain, her sigh seemed to say he made an okay first attempt. Well, second if he counted the last motel room.
    “Kensington,” she whispered.
    “What’s that?” He held her, punctuating the question with a slight squeeze.
    “My last name. Mia Kensington.”
    He smiled at her. It was a genuine smile—not used to illicit information or coerce a mark. Not