Fatal Truth: Shadow Force International by Misty Evans

was a lie. At least she’d taken him out of play and put him in a place where he probably belonged after all of the lives he’d taken in the name of national security. In service to the president.
    Although he still held a severe grudge, her appeal the previous evening had softened him. His parents and only sister had been killed in a house fire when he was ten. He’d been staying overnight at a friend’s house. The only living relative he’d had left was his grandfather, who couldn’t seem to ever look Trace in the eye after the accident.
    Trace couldn’t blame him. He’d survived by not being home. To this day, he still wondered if he could have saved his family if he’d been home that night. Or if it would have been better if he had died too.
    While he couldn’t clear his own name, he could help Savanna with hers. If Ginger, his little sister, had never died in that fire, if she had gone missing… Well, Trace would have crushed the gates of Hell to get her back. Even now, he wished he could take her place.
    During the early morning hours, he texted Beatrice telling her Savanna needed an upgrade to her security system first thing. Next, he’d shot photos of the file on Parker and sent the info to Beatrice as well. Copy that , was her only reply. No questioning him about changing his mind.
    He liked that.
    The faint burn of being manipulated prickled under his skin, but the woman was good at her job. Reluctant respect set up shop in his skull.
    Sounds of running water and Savanna humming filtered through the walls. He still had to play it cool. The second she figured out who he was, all bets were off. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—go back to Witcher. They’d have to kill him first.
    The bathroom door opened and she padded past him with a yawn and went into the kitchen. She was wearing another set of yoga pants and a tank top. These pants had a beach scene imprinted on the ass that flowed down both legs.
    He heard the sound of a grinder, then a motor noise as she stood in front of a black espresso machine. A minute later, she shuffled into the living room where he stood and handed him a travel mug. Her hair was down and combed straight and her eyes were tired. Either she wasn’t a morning person or she hadn’t slept despite the fact he had agreed not to stand in the hall all night.
    Without a word, she returned to the kitchen. He sniffed deep, the smell of freshly ground coffee beans making his nose happy. The espresso was steaming so he watched the sweet beach scene back at the machine for a minute while he blew on the liquid to cool it.
    Another round and Savanna had a second travel cup in hand. The doorman downstairs rang her and announced her car was here.
    Still not speaking, she grabbed a coat and motioned him to follow.
    Definitely not a morning person .
    She locked up the apartment and he unlocked the elevator. On the way down, she took a big sip of coffee, sighed as if in heaven, and leaned back against the elevator wall.
    He liked this quiet side of her. It fit with the early morning and his thoughts. He should have called Beatrice while Savanna was in the bathroom to tell her time was up and he wanted a new assignment. Instead, here he was, drinking her damn good espresso and following her to work.
    Once he landed her safely at the studio, he’d call Beatrice, get Savanna a new bodyguard. Didn’t mean he couldn’t make some calls like he’d promised her last night. He could help from behind the scenes.
    Yeah, that was it. Keep his distance but still help her find her sister. He was good at keeping his distance and still getting a job done.
    He chanced a glance at her. Her eyes were closed, her full lips forming a sexy pout. For half a second, his libido gave a lurch and his mind went sideways before he could stop it, wondering what it would be like to touch those lips. Taste the coffee on them.
    He put his head down and took a drink. A big drink that scalded the back of his tongue and his throat.