The pragmatic part of him grew angry at the self-delusion. He gripped the bag and stepped away from the window, but the glass door opened, and she was there, head down, stride long, moving fast across the plaza with the focus of someone who had no time to waste. Nothing in her presence, her posture, said she was aware of his.

But nothing about her could ever be taken at face value.

He turned for the rear, for the small door behind the offices, which would let him out to a side street. His hurry was a different kind of hurry. He knew where she was headed, knew she wouldn’t leave town without that suitcase, but once she had it, there was no telling what she’d do next.

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 17

Hotel Galileo
Prague, Czech Republic

KARA

SHE STEPPED OFF THE ELEVATOR AND STROLLED TOWARD THE LOBBY, conscious of her posture, of every step, trying not to overcompensate, like someone trying to pretend they weren’t pretending to look relaxed and normal. This was just her, on the way out to grab a bite to eat, exactly like she’d told Juan as she’d walked out the door.

Food and coffee, that’s all she needed to think about.

Coffee, food, coffee, food, around the corner, then past the front desk.

Lying was never meant to be part of the job.

Nor was keeping Nick in the dark, but traitorous as it felt, she saw no way around it. Her priority was watching her back and watching Nick’s, and two assassins on the same flight out of Dallas wasn’t a coincidence.

The war room had missed it—which she highly doubted—or intelligence was deliberately being withheld, and the reason didn’t really matter if the end result was the same. Her team was being primed for failure, maybe worse. The only way to protect them and protect herself was to know what they were up against.

She’d seen an Internet café a couple blocks down on their way to the hotel. That usually meant international calls, as well, and that was where she headed.

One number, ten minutes, that’s all she needed.

She pushed out the hotel doors into a biting wind, turned her coat collar up, dug her chin down into the warmth of body heat, and followed the cobblestones.

She’d left her department-issued phone behind, out in the open, on the bed, beside the laptop, where, if it came to it, no one could deny seeing it, and she hoped like hell she’d never need the alibi. Not that she was doing anything illegal, but the way she was going about it could be spun as such, and she’d rather not lose years of her life to the brig at the hands of someone like Liv, who’d gladly frame carrying either of those devices on this jaunt as an attempt at unauthorized disclosure of classified information.