Bridal Armor by Debra Webb

struggled to slice a tomato with what appeared to be a dull knife.
    “Does anyone have an eye on Isely Jr.?”
    She paused, meeting his gaze from beneath her thick lashes. “I’d hoped you would.”
    He had little more than a general direction. It had been five years since he’d infiltrated the notorious Isely crime family and botched their sale of a deadly new flu virus. Some had considered the move foolhardy considering his position as director but when he’d escaped the firefight with names, faces, fingerprints of the parties involved, along with the case of vials, he’d considered it a successful mission. Everyone had.
    Johara had been his contact and part of his cover story as well as his ticket out of Germany. Riding the high of those few post-mission days, they’d become friends. But after the debriefing stateside, he hadn’t seen her again until she’d landed on the Initiative committee.
    He’d expected it to stay that way...maybe he’d needed it to. But here they were.
    “Those supply audits are starting to make more sense.” He’d known they’d been fishing for something. “Someone thinks I have the real virus.”
    “Don’t you?”
    “Absolutely not.” He tested the pasta, called it al dente and drained the water into the sink.
    Conversation stopped until they were settled at the table with the pasta, salad and two bottles of water.
    “It’s not the Four Seasons,” she said with a smile full of tension.
    “Does it need to be?”
    “No. I just...” Her voice trailed off and this time he knew she wouldn’t elaborate.
    When they’d last worked together both of them had avoided any talk of feelings. They’d been riding the high of success and indulged the mutual attraction between them. He’d thought living in the moment and taking things one day at a time was best for keeping personal safety and mission integrity a top priority.
    Sitting across from her now, as isolated as two people could be, he wondered if he’d been wrong to walk away from her.
    Smart, Casey. Go down that path now of all times.
    They ate in silence for a few minutes, before she returned to the topic of the investigation.
    “From the beginning?” Her eyes were on her plate.
    “If that’s easier for you,” he replied.
    “You turned in the vials we brought out of Germany.”
    “Yes.” He twirled another bite of pasta around his fork. “You saw exactly what I brought back. I still carry the receipt they gave me when I handed the case over to the lab.”
    “Did you know it wasn’t a lethal strain?”
    “Not until I saw the lab report months later.”
    “What did you do about it?”
    “Do? What could I do? I counted my blessings the chemist screwed up or exaggerated the accomplishment to make the sale to Isely.”
    He watched her methodically select a bite of salad, but she didn’t eat it, just balanced it at the edge of her plate.
    “Fair enough. What did you think about the chemist’s failure?”
    “I thought if there really was a lethal strain then Isely had planned all along to double-cross the buyer and keep the real virus for his personal use or a better offer. Doesn’t the recent outbreak confirm that?”
    “The recent outbreak, and a source who, based on the information, was at the original takedown in Germany, suggests you are the culprit. That you stole and sold the real virus.” She took a long drink of her water. “A ridiculous allegation.”
    “And the Initiative believes that.” His stomach clenched. Of course the committee believed an anonymous source over a director with an impeccable record. He had to forcibly relax his jaw. It took him longer than it should have to be able to speak. “Who is the source?”
    “There’s no name in the file.”
    He pushed back from the table, unable to sit here and take this anymore. “It’s a setup.”
    “I agree.”
    “Who hates me that much?”
    “After a few years with the committee I can say this sort of vitriol usually comes from an