Two minutes later, the plate that was presented to him was white and square and the fork was sterling silver and had curlicues on it.

“I know you’re polite,” she said, “but don’t wait for me. It’s better hot.”

He didn’t like eating before her, but considering he’d shut her down on everything else, he figured now was an opportunity to be accommodating. Going to the sink, he washed his hands with soap and water; then he sat down and ate every last bite.

It was gorgeous.

“Stay the night,” she said after she’d fixed her own and started in on it while she stood at the counter. “Stay the night and I’ll resign from your case—but not until you have breakfast with me tomorrow morning. And you’ll be taking your money with you when you go. I won’t be a part of that. If you leave, you’re going to have to have that debt on your conscience.”

A wave of weariness blew through him, sucking him down hard onto the stool. Among his many sins, owing her the money seemed a curiously unsupportable burden, far over and above the number of bodies he’d put into graves. But that was what decent people had always done to him . . . they made him see too clearly who and what he was.

Just as he was gearing up to argue about the B-and-B thing, she cut him off. “Look, if you’re here, I know you’re safe. I know you’ve had a meal or two and that you’re going to leave stronger. Right now, you need medical attention for your face, another omelet, and a bed that you can rest in. As I said, this house is wired way beyond civilian standards and there are a couple of tricks in the interior—so you don’t need to worry about a break-in. Besides, nobody with ties to the government is going to hurt me because of my father.”

Childe . . . Childe . . . Nope, still nothing. Then again, he’d been a grunt in XOps who’d been preoccupied with two things: getting his target and getting out alive. He was hardly the type to know about military hierarchy.

Jim Heron would, though. And the guy had slipped him his number. . . .

“So do we have a deal?” she demanded.

“You’ll resign,” he countered gruffly.

“Yes. But I’ll have to tell them everything I know about you when I do. And before you ask, since you’ve neither confirmed nor denied a connection to the government . . . I’ll just forget we ever talked about that.”

He wiped his mouth with a napkin and wanted to curse at his lack of options: Man, her determination was in the angle of her jaw—clearly, it was her way or no way.