“Same cushy digs as last time?”

“Yes. Even the same room.”

He waited, but she clamped her lips together. If he was hoping for an invitation to stop by, he was out of luck. She couldn’t take the risk. Not after that kiss on his last visit had turned her brain to mush and sent a tingle clear down to her toes.

Until she got a handle on how—or if—she wanted to give him a second chance, arranging a rendezvous in a hotel room would be downright foolish.

“Well . . .” He began to collect his papers. “Enjoy your break—and try to rest.”

“That’s the plan.”

He turned off the white noise app and stood. “You know how to reach me if anything comes up we should discuss.”

“Yes. Likewise.”

Without lingering, he left the study cube, limped to the library door, and disappeared.

Huh.

He hadn’t pushed for an invitation.

A surge of disappointment swept over her—even as hope bubbled up that he’d appear at her door anyway.

Huffing out a breath, Cate shoved the Spanish text into her backpack.

How ridiculous was that?

A weekend alone was exactly what she needed to rest, relax, heal—and think.

About her case . . . and about how to deal with a man from her past who wanted to be part of her future.

20

THE PHONE DEEP IN HIS POCKET began to vibrate, and Wolf tensed.

It had to be Razor again. Calling two Sundays in a row—at the worst possible time.

He held on to his smile and ignored the summons as he continued to circulate and chat.

Putting an end to his increasingly complicated double life couldn’t happen fast enough.

But in the meantime, he had to return this call and deal with whatever new crisis had arisen.

After edging toward the door, he finally managed to slip into the hall.

The outside exit was a few yards away—but it was cold today. Too cold to linger without his overcoat.

So he’d tell Razor to be quick with the facts and promise to call him back after he’d formulated a damage control plan.

The wind nipped at his cheeks as he left the warmth of the building behind, and he tucked himself into a small alcove, keeping his back to the arctic gusts.

Ten seconds later, Razor answered his call.

“I wasn’t in a position to talk. I’m outside now, but it’s cold. Make this fast.”

“I think I’m being watched.”

A cold chill that had nothing to do with the frigid wind snaked through him.

That was very bad news.

All these years, they’d managed to stay under the radar. Their operation had been smooth. Seamless. Anonymous. No one but Razor knew who he was—and only a few people were aware of Razor’s real identity, all of them long, trusted, proven lieutenants.