It would be easy to blame his current mental state on the injury that had sidelined him, but that would be a lie. The truth was, he’d begun to consider changing course months ago. This assignment should have been the perfect chance to think through next steps in his career without the distraction of having to watch his back constantly.

In fact, his boss had billed the job as a cakewalk compared to his previous roles.

But that was before Cate had entered the picture.

Cate.

He sipped his soda and stared into the darkness.

How many times had he thought of her through the years? Pictured that glorious, dark auburn hair . . . those intense eyes that could burn with passion . . . the firm mouth that had yielded so appealingly beneath his?

How many times, as he lay awake in a grungy, sweltering fleabag motel, his pistol inches from his fingers, tensing at every squeak in the hall, had he calmed his jitters by calling up memories of her soft skin, the silkiness of her hair, the gentle touch of her fingers against his face?

Too many to count.

More than he wanted to admit.

Because after they’d parted on that long-ago day in the park beneath a blaze of autumn color, he’d vowed to put her out of his mind. To focus only on the priority which, at that stage of his life, had superseded everything else.

He took another swig of the sweet beverage—but the fizzy soft drink left a sour taste in his mouth.

Maybe, if he’d been able to explain to her about the demons that drove him, she’d have understood why he’d chosen to take an unexpected opportunity to switch career paths over their relationship.

Maybe.

But the hurt inside him had run too deep.

The guilt ran too deep.

And dredging up the courage to expose his shame to a woman like Cate, who was all about honor and integrity and principles, had eluded him.

So he’d broken her heart instead.

Another source of guilt.

Headlights arced across his window, and he jerked back, every muscle stiffening.

Overkill, Sloan.

Right.

The reflexive self-defense moves that were force of habit after all his years in law enforcement shouldn’t be necessary on this job.

He rotated his shoulders until the rigid line softened.

As long as he maintained his cover at Ivy Hill, no one should come gunning for him.

Which brought him back to Cate.

Tomorrow they were going to meet face-to-face.

He was forewarned and ready.

She wasn’t.

A plan to get her alone so they could hash out what was going on was already forming in his mind—but it all hinged on her reaction when she saw him.

If she was well trained . . . if her acting skills were strong . . . if she was able to think fast and mask her surprise . . . they could pull this off.

If she wasn’t?

They could both be hosed.

4