Noelle shrugged. It had been so long since she'd eaten that her stomach had just turned off. That happened sometimes. "I don't care. Just pick something."
After the old, grandmotherly lady in the window handed them their third full bag of food, Noelle began to think that had been the wrong thing to say.
"The coffee's mine. You get water until that crap is flushed out of your system."
"Yes, sir," she growled, tempted to throw a sausage and egg biscuit at his head rather than eat it.
He just gave her that lopsided grin of his and pulled back onto the highway.
She was asleep again. David wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not.
After eating a decent breakfast, Noelle had curled up against the car door and drifted off before he had a chance to convince her to help out the CIA.
Now they were at the safe house in southern Colorado, where they were to meet up with at least half a dozen others
—both CIA and Army—who would pressure ner into cooperating.
It was the right thing to do. Hell, it was the only thing to do as far as David was concerned. They'd never find the Swarm without some decent intelligence and right now, Noelle was the only shot they had.
David wanted those terrorist bastards dead to a man, but it still chafed him that she would be used in a game where she didn't even know the rules.
He pulled into the gravel drive at the back of the old farmhouse but didn't kill the engine. He'd been tracked by the scopes of at least four sharpshooters before he'd even pulled onto the property. At least these guys were on his side.
They were as safe here as they were going to get, but he still felt the adrenaline flood his bloodstream as he shifted his head into the game. There could be no mistakes now.
"Wake up, Noelle," he said as he scanned the area. He could see Colonel Monroe's face in one of the front windows, along with several other suited men. He saw one of the marksmen on the roof and another just inside the tree line. He kept hoping to see Grant or Caleb among them, but hadn't.
Man, it would have been nice to have his old buddies at his back for this op. It would have made him feel a hell of a lot better about moving Noelle around in the open.
She stirred and opened her dark green eyes. "We're here?"
"Yeah. We need to get you inside where it's safe. I don't like just sitting out here."
Noelle yawned and reached for the door handle.
"Not yet. Wait until I come around to open it."
"I'm perfectly capable of opening the door myself."
"I know. You're also perfectly capable of getting shot in the head while standing out there without me to cover you.
Instead, why don't you let me come around, okay?"
His tone had been harsh, but he couldn't let himself care about hurting her feelings. He had to care only about protecting her body.
That thought led him on a mental voyage of just how sweet her body might be under all those clothes. He wondered if she was pale all over, or if she had a sprinkling of freckles across her breasts.
Whoa. That was not anywhere near where his thoughts needed to be right now.
With a harsh reprimand for his stupidity, David stomped on his libido until it cowered back in its dark corner, where it belonged.
He moved around to open the car for Noelle, keeping a hand on his weapon. She slid out of the front seat, wide-eyed and trembling with fear.
Shit. He hadn't meant to scare her like that.
Now he had no choice but to offer her what little comfort he could. He put his arm around her shoulders, feeling the fine tremors of fear coursing through her. He shielded her body with his, tucking her head against his chest, making sure that if someone took a shot at her, it was going to go through him first-He told himself that he was only doing his job, but the predictable tightening of his pants proved he was a liar. He liked the way she felt huddled against him. It was a perfect fit, with her head nestled just under his chin. It was the kind of fit that had him wondering just how well the rest of them would fit together.
As they hurried up the back steps, he leaned close to her ear, drawing in the fresh strawberry scent of her shampoo.
He wanted to whisk her away to some secret island where no one would ever find her. He wanted to wipe that look of fear from her eyes and never let it haunt her again. He wanted to go back in time and kill every member of the Swarm before they'd managed to spread like a malignant cancer thought long dead—before they could threaten Noelle's safety and ruin her life.
But he could do none of that. He couldn't change what had happened. All he could do was protect her until she made her choice about whether to give up her current life and live or cling to it and die.
The thought of her choosing the second option was not one David could stomach. There had been enough death of innocents in his life. Standing back and accepting another one was something he simply could not do. If Noelle was going to live, she had to trust someone and he wanted that someone to be him.
She had no idea what she was about to go through in there. She'd be questioned, pressured, manipulated. Whatever they felt they needed to do to gain her cooperation, they'd do it, no matter how slimy they had to get. They needed her, and if David's guess was right, they needed her more than she needed mem. She just didn't know it.
The urge to protect her burned strong within him. He had a lot of mistakes to make up for—mistakes so big they could never be rectified. He not only wanted to protect her fife, but he wanted to protect her comfort as well. What she was about to go through would not be comfortable, and that pissed David off. He just wished he could take her away from all this and spare her the grueling ordeal of being pressured by the CIA.
But he couldn't do that, nor would he be allowed in the room with her while she was questioned and coerced. This was the last chance he'd have for a while to give her what little support he could offer. The idea of her being alone in that interrogation room with the suited goons did not sit well. He wanted to stay by her side and tell her everything would be okay. He'd make sure of it.
But that was a lie. No matter what happened, nothing for her would ever be the same again. The best he could do was arm her so she could fight her own battles. Her knowledge and skills were formidable weapons—weapons he doubted she even knew she had. The question was, where did his loyalties lie? With the government who needed Noelle's help or with the woman herself? He knew which one Monroe would pick, but he also knew that he had to act with his conscience. Noelle had to be his first priority. It could be no other way. Anything less than total commitment to her safety—even emotional safety—was unacceptable to him. He was more than just a tool of the government. He was a man. And as a man, he had to listen to his heart.
In the end, his heart won. He had to offer her what help he could while he was still able. "Don't let them scare you in here," he told her in a low whisper against her ear. "Remember, you're the one who has something they want. You have power. You're in control."
She looked up at him, shock glowing in her dark green eyes. From that split-second glance, he knew that she'd understood what he'd told her was important. She might not yet understand why or how, but she'd figure it out. He knew she would. He was suddenly relieved that Noelle was a smart enough woman that she didn't need a lot of help connecting the dots.
Before she could ask any questions, they were inside, surrounded by an imposing group of men that nearly smothered her in a sea of black suits as they whisked her away to the interrogation room.
Noelle sat in a hard wooden chair, waiting for the next group of men to come question her.
It was late afternoon and the routine was getting old.
She was tired of answering the same questions over and over. She was tired of sitting in this windowless, dingy room with a bunch of men who looked at her as either a freak or a tool. But most of all, she was just plain tired. Her arm ached where she'd been shot and her mouth was dry from thirst and frayed nerves.
As she repeated the events that had happened to her last night to the suited men, the reality of her situation started to sink in. She'd been hunted down and attacked. Granted, the men who attacked her wanted her alive, but that really didn't do much to make her feel better about her situation.
The door of the musty room opened again and an older man in a golf shirt and khakis came in, followed closely by David. Her heart jumped with relief when she saw him. She had to keep herself from rushing into his arms for a comforting hug. He was the only familiar face in a crowd of strangers. Sure, she didn't know his last name, or even whom he worked for, but he was a large step above the self-important men who had filtered through this room all day long trying to convince her to give the government what they wanted—something she was not willing to give.
At least her parents would be proud of her for not giving in, for standing by her principles. She only hoped she'd get the chance to see them again and tell them just how brave she had been and that their teachings hadn't gone unheeded.
David placed a chilled bottle of water on the table, taking away the half-empty foam cup of coffee they'd given her earlier. He slugged back the rest of the stone-cold coffee in one long swallow, making Noelle wonder just how badly he needed the caffeine.
He looked tired and his shoulders were less^ square and straight than she remembered, but he still had the strength to pin her with a demanding stare that ordered her to drink up.
Noelle smiled, happy to oblige as long as she didn't have to face the suits again.
The older man had graying hair and a build that would have once been much like David's—muscled, but not obscenely so. Now, it was starting to soften with time and gravity until he just looked... comfortable. Even so, there was an air about him—something about the way that David looked at him with total respect—that warned her not to underestimate him.
"Would you like a break? Perhaps a trip to the bathroom?" asked the older man.
Noelle shook her head. She just wanted mis over with.
"I'm Colonel George Monroe," he said, extending a hand in greeting.
Noelle glanced at David, and at his slight nod, she decided to stand and shake his hand."*
Monroe lifted a surprised brow as he noticed the exchange between her and David, but said nothing about it.
"Please, sit down."
"I'd rather not," said Noelle. "My butt's fallen asleep on that thing."
Monroe shrugged and slid into a seat across the table that had once graced the kitchen of someone with a lot of kids, from the well-used look of it.
"I can save us all a lot of time here, Colonel Monroe. I've already told the men in the matching suits what happened last night at my house. I'm sure David here can corroborate my story."
"I'm not interested in that, Dr. Blanche."
Noelle winced. She hated being here almost as much as she hated her name. Noelle Blanche. White Christmas.
Someone should have kicked her parents in the ass for that stunt.
She straightened her shoulders and looked the imposing man right in the eye. "Then to answer all your other questions, no."
"No?" he asked, frowning.
"Right. No. As in, no I won't work for you. No I won't help you decrypt any ciphertext. No, I won't finish developing those encryption algorithms that you wanted. No, no, no. I think that about covers every possible contingency. Yes?"