“Electronic countermeasures—it’s used in presidential and vice-presidential motorcades, or in the case of transporting high-profile assets. It should counter any IEDs or rocket-propelled grenades—anything that’s a guided attack, it’ll jam and can change jamming frequency depending on the range.”

His frown deepened.

What had happened? And why was he choosing to share this specific story with her? But she wanted to know more. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Thanks for explaining.”

“You’re welcome.” He shuddered slightly. She might have missed it if she hadn’t been so focused on him.

“Our teams included just one DS agent or RSO, and the rest were a mix of military guys and private security guys, who were usually ex-military. Marines. Army Rangers. All experienced in combat. Oh, and a medic. I’m getting ahead of myself. As the AIC—agent in charge—I had the sole responsibility for the protectees, the high-profile passengers. I gathered all the details, coordinated all the points of contact. Everything. I didn’t like transporting people into unsecure regions. No one did. But sometimes it happened. Those were the most intense trips. I reviewed and rereviewed the routes. Instructed the protectees how to get into the Suburban and where to sit.”

“So what happened?” She wished she had kept her mouth shut. Let him tell his story. He was great with details.

He drew in a long, shaky breath.

Wow. Whatever happened still affected him. She wished he had sat next to her. Wished she was brave enough to reach across the distance and pull him closer.

“During an intel brief before our assignment, we learned that vehicle-borne improvised explosive devices had been used to attack a nearby hotel.”

“In the unsecured zone?”

“Yep. There had been more attacks, and the area was increasingly volatile.”

“Couldn’t you just say no?”

“Not to these particular individuals. But the news meant our usual routes were impacted. And we had to move around the areas of recent explosions.”

“And US motorcades were probably targets.”

“Always. Or at least prime targets.”

“I mean . . . by the locals?”

“Yes, especially during periods of unrest. We were on the move, but some of our planned routes had been shut down. I radioed the TOC—tactical operations center—for an update. Some of the other teams had to return without completing their missions.”

“And they wanted you back?”

“Our mission was deemed critical, and we were required to complete it. We drove quickly through the streets in our four-vehicle motorcade. I already mentioned the lineup. The last vehicle held the shooters. Machine guns and sniper rifles.”

He looked at her as though deciding if he would continue and how much to share and how much to hold back, then hung his head.