“Exactly.” She paused. “So, what else aren’t you telling me?”

It was obvious there was no way he could say anything more about the situation without her kicking him out. And if the bullet holes in his truck were any indication, that could result in some very bad things happening to her.

Like death. He couldn’t be responsible for that.

Her eyes never wavered as she waited for his answer. He’d never met anyone who could hold his gaze for very long before looking away. Sarah didn’t seem to have that problem. He cleared his throat. “I’m just trying to figure some things out. Like who was gunning for us out on the highway.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“What else aren’t you telling me?”

He fell silent, unwilling to tell her about his agreement with her father, yet even more unwilling to outright lie to her. “What do you think I’m not telling you?”

“Like why you’re sticking around?”

He blinked. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because the more I think about it, the more it doesn’t make sense.” Another pause. “Did Caden ask you to watch out for me?”

“No. Caden didn’t say a word.” At least that was one hundred percent true. Before she could ask another question he didn’t want to answer, he leaned forward. “Look, Sarah, I was just minding my own business working a contract job in Kabul with a well-trained team when the general contacted me about your kidnapping. I passed the job off as quickly as I could, and the team and I headed to the compound.” Also true. “We got you out of there and back to the States so you could heal. And then Caden asked me to stay for the funeral. You seemed to want me around, and Caden wanted whatever you wanted. After the funeral, you were still really sick and”—he shrugged—“I wanted to know you were going to be okay.”

She studied him as though trying to decide. “Don’t you have a job?”

“I’m friends with the boss. I can help delegate. Besides, Travis and Asher are sending me regular updates and reassuring me that I’m where I’m supposed to be, so it’s all good.”

She continued to study him, weighing his words. Finally, a sigh slipped from her. “Why didn’t they kill me? Or torture me? Or whatever?”

Her out-of-the-blue change of subject made him pause. “Who?” The fact that he had to ask unnerved him.

“The terrorists. If they knew I was the general’s daughter when they took me—and that’s the impression you’ve just given me—why bother to actually take me? Why not just shoot me in the school where I was teaching and be done with it? Why keep me alive?”

All very good questions. “I’m not exactly sure.” But he had a few ideas.