“You like that,” she said, studying him. “You like people not knowing the real you.”

His chin lifted. “Maybe. I was seven when I entered the foster system, and some places were good and some not so much. Holding life close to the vest was necessary. At least until I landed at Miss A’s when I was twelve.”

Miss A. Brigid knew Raider had just gone back to a small Kentucky town to see Miss A and help out a foster brother. Everything in Brigid wanted to meet this mysterious woman who made Raider’s voice and eyes go all soft and gentle. She must be quite a lady. “You grew up in the South,” she said.

He grinned. “Yes, ma’ am. I did.” The pure Southern accent rolled right over her skin, tunneled down, and spread warmth throughout her entire body. It was probably safer for females everywhere that he kept that under wraps. “Learned diction and different accents while in training with the HDD.”

Wow. Just wow. “Do you speak Japanese?” she asked.

He nodded. “My mother grew up in Seattle and was Japanese, and she taught me both Japanese and English before she died when I was seven. I kept up my studies, no matter where I went. It’s a way to keep a part of her with me.”

Brigid’s heart stuttered. Finally. The real Raider. The more she knew him, the more she liked him, and the worse she felt about the entire situation. Yet she couldn’t stop delving into him. “And your father?”

“A marine who died in action before they had a chance to get married, hence my last name,” Raider said. “I don’t remember him at all, but she sure loved him, so he must’ve been a good man. They were engaged. I hold that close, too.” He leaned back, effectively withdrawing. “All right. Shall we go through my closet for anything that might work?”

She wanted to keep talking and learning about him, but the temptation to see his bedroom was too much to ignore. “Sure, and you don’t have to hide the accent from me.” Okay. Maybe she wanted to hear it again.

“It’s habit by now,” he said, sounding like he came from the Midwest. “This way.” Brushing by her, he moved into the bedroom, and she followed, her heartbeat quickening just enough for her palms to grow a little sweaty. Raider Tanaka’s bedroom.

A big bed with a blue comforter, standard dresser, tables and lamps. And one personal touch. Two pictures on the dresser. She moved to the larger picture, lifting it to see a teenaged Raider with two other boys, a pretty blond girl, and an African American woman with salt-and-pepper hair and smiling brown eyes.