Free Shadow Soldier by Dana Marton

didn’t know what was going on, she couldn’t very well make good decisions, decisions on which her life depended. She thoroughly resented the fact that her father and some unknown organization presumed to know what was best for her.
    â€œSo you’ve noticed me at the gym,” he said out of the blue, making her forget that she was about to call him onto the carpet on the secrecy issue.
    Must be he didn’t think she’d had enough embarrassment for one day yet. “You grunt when you bench press.”
    â€œI do not.”
    â€œDo, too. Starting at about two hundred pounds.”
    He quirked a black eyebrow, his gaze steady on her face as he stirred the pot on the stove. “You watched me that closely, huh?”
    She chose to ignore him. The aroma of spices filled the kitchen, but her stomach, clenched into a tight fist as it was, couldn’t properly appreciate it.
    He pulled the food off the stove and brought it over.
    â€œNo, thanks.” She put her hand on the disposable plastic bowl he had set out for her. “I’ll try one of those MREs. Figure it’s my once-in-a-lifetime chance.”
    â€œIf you’re lucky.” He grinned and piled the chili into his bowl.
    She got up to find something among the rations that sounded remotely tolerable. They ate breakfast at quarter after four, spicy organic chili and beef ravioli in the semidarkness.
    Her toes tingled under the table.
    Â 
    W HEN THEY STILL hadn’t gotten the call by noon, Nicola was worried. Alex had spent the day obsessively checking the property and the sensors, while she tried just as obsessively to keep out of his way.
    â€œDo you think something went wrong?” she asked when she couldn’t take the silence any longer. Maybe the terrorists had attacked her father and the FBI had forgotten all about her. Her chest tightened at the thought.
    â€œI’m in no hurry,” Alex said, flat on his back, his hands behind his head. He sat up, his nose touching his knees. “The closer I am to Washington, the more likely someone will snag me—” he lay back down “—to write one of those loathsome reports.” He came up again.
    He stopped his sit-ups and reached for his phone, and she thought he was going to call after all, but he started to speak into it as soon as he flipped it open. They must have buzzed him.
    â€œReady?” He listened to whoever was speakingon the other end. “Can’t they send someone else?” He listened again then swore before he ended the call.
    â€œTime to leave for D.C.?”
    He shook his head. “They got the shooter. He’s singing like a bird. He and his brother were on some personal vendetta against your father. You’re going home.”
    She needed a moment to adjust to going back to her normal life so abruptly. From one moment to the next everything kept changing. She didn’t have the kind of skills it took to handle such chaos. She’d barely accepted for real that she’d been attacked, and now apparently she was out of danger. God, she was getting whiplash.
    Oh, what the hell was wrong with her, feeling disgruntled because things were changing too fast? The authorities got the shooter. She could go home. She waited for the rush of relief, but it didn’t come.
    Shooter in custody or not, it would take time to regain her sense of security.
    â€œI’ll be going home all by myself?” The thought of being alone after what had happened yesterday was less than comforting. “I guess now that everything is back to normal… I don’t suppose—”
    Since she had raised such a fuss about him guarding her in the first place, it would probably havelooked pretty stupid if she begged him to stay with her a little longer.
    â€œI’m coming with you to spend the rest of the week,” he said with a barely disguised groan before he left the house to collect his sensors.
    Oh, thank God.