Delta Force Defender

“Nope. I’ve got that one down. Besides, I have a US congressman upstairs for protection.”

“All right, then.” Cam stood in the entryway and thrust his hand forward for a shake. “Take care and thanks for trusting me.”

She tucked her laptop against her side and took his hand in a firm grip—no nonsense. “Thanks for...rescuing me on the platform and discovering I’d been hacked.”

They both released at the same time, and Cam saluted. “All right, then. See ya later.”

Martha shut the door behind him and then rested her back against it, hugging her computer to her chest. Had Cam been nervous? Maybe he thought she’d expected a hug or a kiss or something. Did she appear that desperate?

She spun around and threw the locks into place and then launched herself up the stairs. Cam probably hadn’t given her much thought at all.

Martha crept past Casey’s bedroom door and the low voices murmuring within, and slipped into her own room. At least her master bedroom had a bathroom attached.

Tripping to a stop, she glanced at the laptop in her hands. She didn’t want to go into the hallway again, so she made an abrupt turn and stuffed the computer on the floor of her closet under some folded clothes.

She got ready for bed. Several minutes later as she slipped between the covers, her mind was still racing with the day’s events.

Casey squealed from somewhere beyond the walls, and Martha burrowed beneath the covers. Her roommate and her lovers always made a lot of noise.

Martha reached into the top drawer of her nightstand for her earplugs and cupped them in her hand as the congressman let out a growl.

Shutting her eyes, Martha closed her fingers around the earplugs. What would Cam sound like in the throes of passion?

Casey yelped, and Martha stuffed the earplugs into her ears as she buried her face in the pillow. One thing she did know is that she wouldn’t be squeaking and squealing like Casey if she ever did get a chance with Cam.

And with that delicious thought making her shiver, Martha closed her eyes.

What seemed like moments later, Casey’s scream punctured Martha’s dream state...and her earplugs. She groaned and rolled onto her side.

Didn’t the woman have any shame—or self-control?

Casey screamed again, and Martha pulled the pillow over her head, gritting her teeth.

“Martha! Martha!”

The bedroom door burst open, and Martha sat up, the pillow falling from her face. She blinked her eyes at Casey standing in the doorway, a filmy nightgown clutched to her chest. Was she dreaming?

“Martha, wake up. We’re in terrible trouble.”

“What?” Martha flicked on the light above her bed, and Casey’s face looked whiter than it had in the darkness. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“Oh, Martha.” Casey stumbled across the room and tottered before she dropped to the edge of Martha’s bed. “Bob, Congressman Wentworth, is dead in my bed...in your town house.”

Chapter Five (#ub3889647-a804-55e8-b26c-97fde8918936)

Cam glanced at his phone for about the hundredth time that morning. Maybe Martha had decided to get her computer wiped on her own. It’s not like she needed him to do it. He didn’t know that much about technical stuff, and she probably figured that out about him in a hot minute. She seemed like the self-sufficient type, anyway.

In fact, Martha Drake had a surprising rebellious streak. He never would’ve guessed she’d be the type to sneak out those emails. The woman had gone rogue—and he was glad she’d decided to do so.

And maybe she was going rogue again by handling the patriot herself. Cam wouldn’t put it past her, but he didn’t think it was a good idea. What if she’d fallen in front of that train last night? She needed a right-hand man, even if she didn’t realize it yet.

He tossed his phone onto the cushion next to him and snatched up the remote. Propping one bare foot on the table in front of him, he clicked over to one of the cable news shows.

He studied the reporters and news vans with a crease forming between his eyebrows. Someone had died, and the street where the buzzing media had gathered looked familiar with all those rows of town houses with shutters and arched windows.

When the words scrolled across the bottom of the screen, Cam choked and his foot slipped from the table. His thumb drilled into the remote to increase the sound.

The reporter breathlessly gushed into the mic. “All we know so far, Carrie, is that Congressman Robert Wentworth, from the Second Congressional District in Florida, died in this town house behind me sometime last night or this morning. There was a 911 call and the DC Metro Police responded. The body has not yet been removed.”

Carrie put on a concerned face, but Cam could see the speculative light in her eyes. “Have the police said whether they’re looking at foul play here, Stacie?”

“They haven’t released any statement yet or talked to reporters.”

Cam curled his fingers around the remote and hardly noticed the edges digging into his flesh. The reporter hadn’t mentioned anything about anyone else being hurt...or arrested. What the hell had gone down in that town house after he’d left last night?

Cam muted the TV and reached for his phone. Damn that Casey for dragging Martha into her messy life. He stopped, his thumb hovering over the screen. Or was it the other way around?

Could this really be just a coincidence after what Martha had gone through yesterday? What possible connection could Wentworth have to Martha and the emails?

Cam dropped his phone when it hit him that he didn’t even have Martha’s number. He’d given her his number with the understanding that she’d call him to go with her to fix the laptop. Some understanding. Seemed like he didn’t know Martha at all.

He paced the room, juggling his phone from hand to hand, occasionally turning up the TV for more news on the congressman’s death. The stiff muscles across his shoulders began to unwind when he didn’t see anything about any other injuries or anyone getting taken in for questioning, and then seized up again as Martha had been identified as the owner of the town house.

More than an agonizing hour later, Cam’s phone buzzed with a DC number. “Hello?”

“Cam, it’s Martha... Martha Drake.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re kind of famous right now, or at least your town house is. What the hell happened over there?”

“My name’s out there, isn’t it?”

“Are you worried about your job?”

“I’m worried about a lot of things right now.” She sighed. “It looks like the congressman had a heart attack. Casey didn’t even realize it until this morning. His body was slumped halfway out of the bed when she woke up.”

“A heart attack? Of course, they’re gonna do an autopsy before they rule on the cause of death.” He wiped a hand across his mouth. “How are you holding up? How’s Casey?”

“Casey is hysterical. I’m...nervous.”

“Why, Martha?”

“Why do you think?”

“Are you linking this to the emails?”

“Aren’t you?” Her voice rose, and for a second she sounded close to hysteria herself.

“Crossed my mind, but I can’t see how this can be related to the emails or how it affects you.” He wedged a shoulder against the window and watched one bare branch from a tree scrape against the edge of the balcony. “Heart attack, right?”