Cooper Security 06 - Secret Intentions by Paula Graves Page A

kidnapping attempts, seen a man killed right before her eyes, and she wanted justice. He might wish she weren’t the sort of woman who’d want to help deliver that justice herself, but he had to admire her for her raw courage and determination. “It’s going to get a lot more dangerous before it’s over.”
    “I owe it to my family.” Evie twisted her hands in her lap, looking terrified but resolute. “And to Alan Wilson’s wife and kids. I don’t know if they’ll ever find a body to bury, all because somebody was after me and my family. The least I can do is be part of proving why it happened and maybe, just maybe, bringing the perpetrators to justice.”
    “You’re an accountant, Evie. This kind of work requires skills.”
    “So you teach me everything you know.”
    “Between now and the time we get to D.C.?”
    “Do the best you can, hotshot.” She managed a cheeky grin that faded all too quickly into worry.
    A daunting task, he thought, to try to prepare her over the course of a few hours for what they might find when they arrived at the capital. But there were a few lessons he could teach her, ways to put her into the mind-set, at least, to handle the unexpected.
    He just hoped it would be enough to keep them both alive.

Chapter Seven
    Farragut Square Park was busy at midday on a Tuesday, workers from nearby buildings mingling with tourists who had their noses buried deep in D.C. maps. Jesse had memorized the D.C. map while Evie drove, determined not to look like a tourist. And he had Evie, whose memories of Washington hadn’t faded much over the intervening years.
    She’d loved living in Washington, flaws and all. She’d enjoyed the hectic pace, the silly self-importance of its political class, the awe-inspiring sense of history to be found in its alabaster monuments and majestic landmarks. Even though she had no pressing desire to return there to live again, now that she’d settled into the slower pace of life in Chickasaw County, Alabama, she was grateful for the experience of living in the nation’s capital for most of her childhood and youth.
    “Where did Quinn tell you he’d meet us?” she asked as they walked down the sidewalk outside the park. Ahead to the right, inside the chains delineating the park, the statue of Admiral David Farragut rose on his white stone pedestal, drawing the attention of camera-snapping tourists who ringed the statue to get a quick shot of the Civil War Navy hero.
    “He said to look for the Army and Navy Club Building on 17th Street.”
    She pointed toward a tall, brown brick building with black iron minibalconies under some of the tall, rectangular windows. “That’s it.” Her father had been a member. He’d taken her and Rita to eat lunch in the main dining room at the club a few times when they were old enough to behave politely. He’d also treated Evie to dinner at the club when she learned she’d earned a full-ride scholarship to Vanderbilt University.
    “He said we should go to a bench across from the Army and Navy Club Building.” He pointed toward four black iron benches flanking the narrow concrete path leading into the park. Only one was occupied at the moment, by a homeless man in ragged clothing who slouched against the bench back, sporadically reaching into a paper sack beside him and tossing its contents—birdseed, Evie discerned—to the crowd of pigeons fluttering around his feet.
    The man looked up suddenly, his gaze connecting with hers. The intensity of his stare made her breath catch.
    She closed her fingers around Jesse’s wrist. “Jesse.”
    He followed her gaze. “That’s Quinn.”
    “Are you sure?” She gave the homeless man another quick look. He had a day’s growth of beard, a gaunt look of hunger, as if he hadn’t eaten a solid meal in days. His clothes were worn and dirty, and the shoes on his feet were riddled with holes and stains.
    “He’s a CIA agent. He’s good with the disguises.” Jesse twined his fingers