Silence from Miss Cardigan-and-Khakis.

“You walked straight into a bad situation. Two professional teams had the same goal. Secure that package. Or was it three teams, Mia? At least own up if you’re working this op, too.”

Quiet minutes passed. Mia neither acknowledged him nor the situation. She concentrated on a few strands of hair, twirling them around a finger.

“What do you mean by professional team?” she asked.

Was she screwing with him? Red flag after red flag told him this woman was some innocent who just stepped in a huge pile of crap.

“Assuming you’re not acting the part of blameless bystander, I’ll play along.” He threw a handful of Dots into his mouth, needing to release some tension. “A pro team, a professional team—it’s a group of operatives trying to complete a covert task. Every operative knows their role: good guys or bad ones, or a confusing mixture of the two, but they know. And it seems like you’ve spent some time with both today.”

“And you’re the good guy, huh?” Mia acted interested for the first time in anything he had to say.

“I’d like to think so, though I’m sure many would disagree.” He smiled, showing lots of teeth. It was too much. Too fake. He knew it and was sure she knew it, too. “If I were going to hurt you, I’d have done it by now. You’re baggage I don’t need. But we seem to want the same thing, and I’m curious enough about you to slow my return until I get a few questions answered.”

“Why are you curious? You have what you wanted.”

He didn’t know what to say next. Awkward wasn’t his thing, but today, he aced it. “What do you do? For work. What type of business are you in, Mia?”

“I thought we weren’t answering questions with questions.”

Smooth move. He needed to change tactics.

“We should get ice for your face.” He pulled into another motel parking lot and turned around in his seat to stare at her. “Stay put. Please.”

Mia nodded and remained in place, though he wasn’t sure why. Nor was he sure why he tacked on the please. He placed a handful of zip tie cuffs on the dashboard.

“I don’t need these. Take it as a show of trust you’ll sit and stay.”

He wouldn’t tie her up, and she wouldn’t run. He could tell by her body language. In all likelihood, that was because he still had the package, and she wanted it. Whatever her motives, he didn’t care. As long as she listened.

He moved fast, secured a room, grabbed an ice bucket, and returned to the truck. He held his breath, hoping she was still there—and she was. He ignored the smile tugging at his cheeks.

Through the window, she studied him as though she had something to say. Her eyes moved from his head and drifted the length of his body, down to the asphalt, and up again. With each sweep, she analyzed him: his chest, his arms, his legs, even the scar on his face. He was feet away, but her intensity made it feel like mere inches. She held his gaze, mouth poised to speak.