But maybe she was warped.
No, there was a major difference between paranoid and protective. This, this oversight, was a matter of safety, not her neurosis.
She would need to get a sit-down with the region’s special agent in charge, or SAC, and have them look into the logistics.
Moving to grab her phone and send the agent a text, she heard a crunch of metal and the squeal of brakes from behind her. She jerked, looking up. The van behind her was sitting askew, the back end now resting on the hood of a red Miata. A kid was in the car’s driver seat. The poor thing looked terrified as he unbuckled his seat belt and stepped out of his car.
Walking to the front of his car, he put his hands over his mouth and squatted down, then stood back up. He mouthed a series of expletives, and from the look on his face, he was likely already envisioning the tongue-lashing he would receive when he told his parents about the accident.
She didn’t envy him, or those days.
“Did you see that? Holy crap,” Agent Hunt said from beside her.
“I know.” She glanced back in the side mirror, watching without being seen.
The side door of the van wheeled open with a characteristic sound of heavy metal grinding against metal. A man, maybe in his early thirties, with dark hair, brooding eyes and a cleft in his chin, stepped out of the van’s side door. Just the sight of him made her gut clench. There was something about him, something that drew her in and yet spoke of danger.
She turned in her seat, hoping to get a better view.
As he stepped onto the street, he looked up at her and their eyes met. For a split second, she thought of looking away, but she checked herself. She wasn’t a demure woman, no matter how handsome the man whose gaze met hers.
He gave her a stiff nod.
As he turned, he gave her one more appraising glance and rushed to shut the van’s door. He moved with the practiced, smooth movements of someone like her—someone who spent their life in the shadows. As the door shut, she looked into the vehicle. Behind him, lining the walls, was a collection of surveillance systems.
Her breath caught in her throat as she instinctively reached for her sidearm.
Not for the first time, her gut was right—the man was nothing but danger.
Copyright © 2021 by Danica Winters
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ISBN-13: 9781488072604
The Witness
Copyright © 2021 by Natascha Jaffa
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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The Witness Page 19