Chapter 8

As I drove toward VA-267 on the way to Portia’s home in Great Falls, I gave him a quick glance. I’d made him laugh with the story of how I’d go through the CIA gathering intel without anyone being the wiser, but now he looked exhausted. I was pretty sure it was more emotional than physical. Either way, I’d be damned if I let the CIA get to him. I flipped up the blinker, got off the toll road, and reversed direction.

“Mark?”

“I’m taking you home for a little while. You can take a shower and change into something more comfortable.”

“You’re taking care of me again.”

“Yeah, so?”

“How many times is that now?”

“You want to keep count?”

“No, I don’t—”

“There’s a pad and pen in the console. Take ’emout and make a list. But do me a favor and include all the times you saved me.”

“You’re a pain in the ass.”

“Just remember I’m your pain in the ass.”

He scowled at me. “I didn’t—”

“Sure you did. Make sure you include saving my life in Paris. That’s a biggie.”