Free Special Agent's Perfect Cover by Marie Ferrarella Page B

in, she scanned the darkening, flat terrain one last time, then quickly closed the door behind him.
    Whirling around to face Hawk, she finally spoke. “What are you doing here?”
    The question was tersely asked and no empty, mindless smile accompanied her words. She wasn’t smiling at all. Instead, she appeared agitated.
    That was more like it, he thought. But was she agitated? Did it have to do with finding him here—or was Grayson behind her display of uneasiness?
    “What the hell is going on here?” he demanded. “And what the hell happened to you?”
    “You don’t answer a question with more questions,” she informed him, snapping out her words. It was a defense mechanism. Because she was afraid where this would wind up taking her.
    Taking them.
    “I don’t want an English lesson or a grammar lesson, Carly,” he retorted in the same exasperated tone she had just used. “I want an answer.”
    All promises to hold on to his temper had flown out the proverbial window. He cut the distance between them from several feet down to less than a few inches.
    He was in her space and she in his, and the air turned hot and sultry between them, despite the fact that outside, the April night was crisp and clean. And more than a little cold.
    “Damn it, Carly,” he shouted at her, “this isn’t you.”
    “This is me,” she countered stubbornly.
    Hawk’s brown eyes darkened as they narrowed. “I refuse to believe that.”
    “Well, unfortunately for you, you don’t have a say in it. It is what it is, no matter what you say to the contrary,” she maintained stubbornly. “Besides, you’ve been gone for ten years, you have no idea what kind of transformations have been going on and taking place here,” she pointed out.
    “Maybe not.” He agreed to the general principle she’d raised. “The town looks like it’s gone to hell in that handbasket our grandmothers were always talking about.”
    She would have smiled if this wasn’t so serious. “The town has prospered,” she contradicted, dutifully spouting the party line. For all she knew, he was now in Grayson’s employ, too. He was out here to trip her up for some reason she hadn’t figured out yet. “Just look around the next time you’re on Main Street.”
    “I have.” His expression told her that he was far from impressed with the changes. She would have been—had they not come at such a high price. “It’s like they all made a deal with the devil.” He paused, his eyes pinning her. “Did you do that, too, Carly? Did you make a deal with the devil?”
    She should have taken it as a compliment, because it meant that she was playing her role well and was convincing. But instead, she felt insulted that he thought so little of her.
    Isn’t that what you wanted? To come across as one of Grayson’s mindless minions?
    The answer was that she both wanted it, and she didn’t. A part of her felt he should have known better than to think this of her.
    Her feelings were getting in the way of her common sense and her plan.
    She tossed her head, her eyes blazing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    Carly began to turn her back on him, but he caught her by the wrist, holding her in place. “I think you do,” he told her.
    “What you think really doesn’t matter to me,” she lied, doing her best to ignore the wild turmoil going on in the pit of her stomach. She attempted to pull free but only succeeded in having him tighten his hold on her. “You’re hurting me,” she accused.
    “Am I?” he retorted angrily. “Am I hurting you?” Struggling with himself, he opened his hand and released her. Anger continued to flash in his eyes. “Well, it’s nothing compared to what you did to me.”
    Carly raised her chin contentiously. “I didn’t hurt you, Hawk,” she informed him. “What I did was set you free.”
    Had she lost her mind? Did living under Grayson’s thumb completely destroy her ability to think? “What are you talking