“I’m sorry about that. I think it’s the older sister thing; she doesn’t mean to pry, but she can’t help wanting to make everyone’s lives better. I wouldn’t take it personally. You’re handling this the best way you can.”

“I’m not upset with Blair; I guess I just keep wondering if she was right—if I should have gone to my father’s funeral. I don’t know. I keep thinking about how he died, how he did try to do the right thing even if his methods were wrong and it was too little too late.”

“It’s okay to mourn him, to wish things had turned out differently.”

“I guess. I just feel like I don’t really know who I am anymore, like I really did die in Afghanistan. They’re my parents, but they’re basically strangers. I feel like a completely different person. The guy I was before wouldn’t have been able to live this life.”

“Maybe you became who you needed to be in order to get through the things that happened to you.”

“Maybe.” I squeezed her hand. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

We sat there for a moment, and then I checked my watch again, leaving my past where it belonged. “Ready to get some answers?”

“Let’s do it.”

We got out of the car, armed to the teeth beneath our clothes, heading toward the Lincoln Memorial. I kept an eye on our surroundings, my hand linked with Kate’s.

It was busy tonight, tourists clearly taking advantage of the warm weather. We sidestepped a group of kids playing on the sidewalk, our strides eating up the pavement. I didn’t like the crowds, didn’t like how difficult the space was to contain. I would have chosen a more private location, but our source was jittery as fuck so he’d only been willing to meet in public. I hoped that the patrols of the memorial would at least deter any attacks. We’d taken the most circuitous route possible to get here, doing everything we could to ensure that we weren’t being followed.

We neared the memorial, the building lit up against the D.C. night sky. Kate’s grip on my hand tightened.

We milled through the groups of people talking and laughing, my heart racing a bit each time they came too close. I fucking hated crowds.

Kate squeezed my hand, closing the distance between us, as though her presence could chase my demons away.

“So what does this guy look like?” she murmured, her gaze scanning the memorial much as mine did.

“He’s tall. Caucasian. Big. Forty-ish. Dark hair cropped close to his head. Dark eyes. He has a tattoo on his arm.”

“Where did you guys agree to meet?”

“Near the statue.”

We walked up the steps, my body tense.

“Do you feel okay?” Kate asked, and I knew what she was really asking was, “Does it feel like the last time?”

I jerked my head in a nod, sweeping the crowd, hoping he’d actually show. My gaze ran over a couple holding hands, a family—one of the kids crying—a group of friends taking pictures, a guy in jeans and a black T-shirt. I froze.

“He’s here.”

I glanced around again, my chest tightening at the clusters of people. Clusters were not good. Clusters meant hiding spots, opportunities to blend, motherfucking danger.

“It’s okay, Matt,” Kate murmured, her voice low, soothing. She tugged on my hand. “It’s going to be okay.”

I didn’t have it in me to be embarrassed by the fact that she could tell I was close to losing my shit. I was too grateful to her for calming me. I didn’t know how to explain it, but it was like she pulled me out of whatever hell I spiraled into, reminding me of the here and now, of the need to protect her and keep her safe at all costs.

We walked toward my father’s employee, his gaze drifting over the crowds much like mine had until he settled on us and he jerked his head in greeting, moving behind the statue of Lincoln. He was ex-military, and he moved with the methodical precision of someone who’d spent time in combat.

I followed him, Kate in tow, nervous energy coursing through my body. I was ready to end this and move on.

We faced off from each other.

“I told you I couldn’t help you,” he said, his expression angry. “I’m not going to the authorities, not going to the media. I gave you everything I had.”

I’d expected this.

“We need more.”

“No fucking way. I’ve been watching the news.” He jerked his head toward Kate. “I know who she is. I know how involved she is in all of this. I want no part of it.”

Kate made a frustrated noise in her throat that almost sounded like a growl. I positioned myself between them, not wanting him looking at her, talking about her, and more than a little concerned that if provoked, there was a good chance Kate would go for the fucking jugular. She might have been a tamer version of herself with me, but I knew her well enough to know that her temper was about to explode.

I opened my mouth to speak, when suddenly I saw a flash of light across his face. I froze, my gaze narrowing, everything tunneling to that red dot dancing on his forehead. There was a second when its presence seemed incongruous, and then I knew.

“Get down,” I shouted, my body connecting with Kate’s as I knocked her to the ground. I heard the gunshot and then the world exploded into chaos.

Kate

For the second time in as many days, I ended up on the ground, staring up at Matt’s face. This time he didn’t look scared or panicked, he looked like he was going to burn the house down.

“Are you okay? They didn’t hit you, did they?”

I shook my head, the feeling I was becoming all too familiar with—panic and terror and adrenaline—swirling inside me. I looked down at my body, running my hands over my torso, my palms coming away red and wet.

Oh god. Oh god.

It wasn’t mine.

“Were you hit?” I asked, panic in my voice.

Matt shook his head.

“What happened?”

“Sniper. We need to move. Now.”

“What happened to …”

Oh my god. The lifeless eyes of the man we’d just been talking to stared back at me. Nausea rose as I stared at the blood, the gaping wound, the parts of his body spilling out …

“Don’t look at him. Look at me,” Matt demanded.

Another shot rang out around us. Screams erupted around the memorial.

“Do exactly what I do,” Matt shouted.

I nodded, my breath hitching, heart racing.

“Kate.”

“Y—Yes?” My teeth chattered together, my limbs ice.

“You can do this. We have to run.”

He jerked me to my feet and I stumbled. His arms came around my body, steadying me, holding me up. We took off running, his hand pulling me along. Around us people screamed and cried, the pandemonium giving us the cover we needed. The police were on the scene, but for the moment the attention was definitely on the body lying on the ground, and capturing the shooter, rather than on us.

My muscles ached as we ran, my legs little more than wet noodles. I was so going to freak the fuck out whenever we stopped running.

“Where are we going?” I asked, my body doubling over to catch my breath as soon as we’d gotten far enough away. Matt might be in peak physical shape, but even though I worked out, there was running and then there was running for your life. Clearly one thing did not necessarily prepare you for the other.

“Metro. We need to leave the car.”

“Are we going back to the hotel?”

“Right now, I can’t think of a better place to go. We don’t have any evidence that they know where we were staying. They could have been following him.”

God, it was like I couldn’t breathe. I kept trying to drag in air, fire burning through my chest.

“Can you run a little longer? They’ll shut down the surrounding metro stations. We need to get farther away.”

I nodded, even though that was kind of a lie. If the fucking sniper didn’t kill me, Matt’s running might.

“Are you okay?” I asked, surprised he was keeping it together as well as he was. I was the one who was utterly terrified and ready to completely lose it.