THE BODYGUARD

For professor Ginny Anderson, translating a set of ancient tablets could be the coup of her career—or more danger than she can handle. Someone doesn’t want the secrets of the artifacts to be revealed…and they’ll kill to bury her discoveries. But former Secret Service agent Colin Tapping refuses to let anybody hurt Ginny and appoints himself as her protector—whether she wants one or not. Colin has made mistakes in the past, and keeping Ginny safe could be just what he needs to prove he’s still a capable agent and win back his job. But is he willing to risk paying the ultimate price to reclaim his former life?

“What do you want with me?”

She tried to step around him, clutching a satchel to her chest.

“You may be in danger, Ginny. The police aren’t sure where that stun grenade that was thrown last night came from and who it was meant for.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I don’t feel like I’m in danger.”

“Then why do you keep looking over your shoulder?”

“I—” She broke off, her eyes unfocused.

Colin knew that look. She was scared. “It’s going to be all right.” He tried to smile to put her at ease, but the gesture felt tight. “I’d like to look out for you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.” She sidestepped him and walked away.

If the Secret Service had taught him anything, it was that threats lurked where you least expected them.

And he was right. She opened the car door, and the loud roar of an engine springing to life nearby sent him into alert.

And then he saw it. A white van sped down the parking lot aisle, right for Ginny.

MICHELLE KARL is an unabashed bibliophile and romantic suspense author. She lives in Canada with her husband and an assortment of critters, including a codependent cat and an opinionated parrot. When she’s not reading and consuming copious amounts of coffee, she writes the stories she’d like to find in her “to be read” pile. She also loves animals, world music and eating the last piece of cheesecake.

Unknown Enemy
Michelle Karl

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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I will praise Thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are Thy works;

and that my soul knoweth right well.

—Psalms 139:14

For Emily Z

May your translating never be fraught with peril

But if it is, I’ve got your back

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

EPILOGUE

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

ONE

Virginia Anderson pushed back from the desk with a sigh, rubbing her tired eyes with a thumb and index finger. If she had to spend another hour in Rhoads, Pennsylvania’s Gwyn Ponth College library without seeing the fading October sunlight, she’d go stark raving mad. Of course, she thought, I have at least three more hours of documents to pore through, so what will that make me?

Taking the work home? Not an option. The combination of futon, fleece blanket, tea and heavy reading would put her right to sleep. Better to sit on a hard chair in a cool, quiet library and actually get her reading done.

“See you tomorrow, Ginny?”

Virginia—Ginny, to most everyone save her parents—waved at Donna, Gwyn Ponth College’s head librarian. “I’ll stick around until Roger comes in to start cleaning.”

Donna tut-tutted and shook her head. “You work too much, my dear. You part-timers aren’t paid nearly enough for the amount of hours you put in each and every day. If you’re not teaching, here you are. Don’t you ever sleep? You have a big meeting tomorrow, yes?”

“I only sleep if I have to.” Ginny laughed, waving Donna out the door. “Plus, it’s a meeting with a stuffy old grump from the museum. If I play it right, by this time next year I’ll have a tenure-track position and have made the historical discovery of a lifetime, and the lack of sleep will have been worth it.”

Donna swept out the door with a sympathetic smile. “I certainly hope so. Tell Roger I said hello.”

A smile crept into the corners of Ginny’s mouth. Since mid-September, Donna and one of the custodians had been leaving brief, affectionate notes and messages for each other through Ginny, though she’d never actually seen the head librarian and Roger meet in person. If only she could arrange it somehow, but Roger wasn’t a very chatty guy. He was a little on the shy side, and had a hard time making eye contact with others. It explained his hesitance to court the librarian in person, but Ginny was happy to be the go-between for them. It was sweet, and she thought Donna and Roger would make a cute couple.

As Ginny focused once more on the journal article in front of her, the lights in the room turned off with an audible click. Had Donna turned them off by accident, out of habit? “Not again, Dee,” she called. No response. The librarian must have left in a hurry. “Never mind, I’ll get it.”

This section of the library book stacks was dim enough to cause eye strain when all the lights were on, let alone having only the light from the emergency exit signs and the intruding outside light from streetlamps to navigate by. As she approached the light switch, a thump came from somewhere behind her. It sounded close. Had she left one of her books too close to the edge of the table?

“Hello?” Ginny squinted into the darkness of the book stacks behind her. “Is someone there?”

The sound of a pen hitting the floor sent her flying in the direction of the light switch. She felt a looming presence behind her just as a hand tapped her shoulder.

“Hey, kid,” said a gruff voice behind her. “Think you’re smart, hiding in here? Don’t make another move.”

Don’t move? Ginny knew there were still other people in the building, few as they might be, so she made the obvious choice. She shouted and twisted away as the hand slid off her shoulder, flailing her palms against the wall, fingers groping for the light switch.

With a click, the lights flickered on and relief flooded into Ginny’s limbs. She shot forward, bracing herself against the end of the nearest bookshelf. Her fingers brushed the spine of a hardcover book. She yanked it off the shelf and whirled around, swinging the book at what she assumed was her attacker’s head.

“Hey, stop!” He covered his head with his arms as the book made contact, then reached out and snatched the book away from her. He tossed it aside and held his hands up. “I’m not after you—I thought you were a student trying to sneak around in here off-hours. I can see now you’re not a student.”

Ginny grabbed another book and held it aloft, ready to throw it and run if he took another step closer. “I don’t believe you. Who are you? Why did you creep up on me in the dark instead of talking like a normal person?” His shirt bore the college crest and he looked too old to be an undergraduate—early thirties, maybe—but his coal-dark hair and razor stubble said troublemaker.

He raised one obsidian eyebrow as the sound of another book hitting the floor echoed from somewhere deep inside the library stacks. “Instinct due to training, plus I didn’t want to give you a chance to run off and disappear elsewhere. Earlier today, I heard we’re having some issues with students trying to hide in the archival area overnight. Something about accessing the controlled documents for their projects without the hassle of being monitored by a librarian. But we can discuss that later. Get down.”

“Why should I?”

“Trust me, please.” He reached for her arm and pulled her down into a crouch.

She drew back from his grip and scooted a few feet away from him, ready to demand he tell her what was going on, but his attention had fixated elsewhere and off of her. He had one finger to his lips. Stay quiet, really? After all that?

“Is there another way out of here?” He kept his voice low. “A back door?”

Ginny frowned, the words spilling out before she could help herself. “Haven’t you been in the library before at all?”

“I’m new,” he growled. “So, is there?”

Ginny swallowed, hoping she didn’t say anything else that could be construed as careless. Clearly, the man thought they were in danger, but he’d been the one waiting in the dark, hadn’t he? What if he had used this moment to divert her attention and was planning something horrible? What if he had a partner waiting in the book stacks to abduct her the moment she let her guard down? He hadn’t given her a good enough reason to trust him. As much as she hated to leave her wallet and research notes in the library, she might lose precious escape seconds by taking the time to grab either one.

Taking a deep breath, Ginny visualized the back door that led to the library’s administrative offices, said a quick prayer and silently counted down from three.

When she reached zero, she pushed off the floor and bolted toward freedom.

* * *

Seriously? Colin Tapping groaned as the woman sprinted away from him. She had no idea what kind of danger she might be putting herself in. The best-case scenario was that a student had, in fact, shut the lights off and hidden in the library in hopes of working here through the night. But his former line of work as a Secret Service agent had taught him to never underestimate the potential dangers of a situation.

Doing so risked lives. He’d learned that the hard way and he’d vowed to never let it happen again. Not that he’d thought he’d ever be in that kind of situation again, and especially not on a college campus in the middle of small-town America.

He rushed after her, listening for footsteps, thumps or anything else that sounded out of place in a library. Would she be headed for the front door? The college library had a simple floor plan, so there couldn’t be more than a few exits for her to choose from.

The library’s front entrance was dim and empty, with no movement from any of the doors at the main exit. He couldn’t have been more than a few seconds behind her, and those doors were heavy and slow to close. She hadn’t left this way. Might there be another entrance and exit for library staff? Colin took a left turn and ran past the ground level’s odd contrast of modern cubicles containing student computer terminals and glass cases displaying old, rare books. When he reached the hallway containing staff offices, he heard the tap of shoes on laminate flooring, followed by a feminine shout of dismay.

Colin reached a bend in the hallway to find the woman he’d followed kneeling on the floor, crouched over another prone figure with dark, curly hair. He took two steps toward them, already pulling his cell phone out of his pocket to dial 911, and froze.

A black cylindrical device rolled into the hallway from around the corner at the other end. It bounced against the side wall and skipped toward them.

“Get out of there!” Colin shouted at the woman. She turned to regard him with wide, frightened eyes, but she hadn’t yet seen the grenade. “Grenade! Run to me!”

Fright morphed from confusion to alarm, but instead of running toward him, she lost a precious half second by glancing at the person on the floor. Colin knew that look—she wanted to save her friend, but knew she didn’t have the strength to carry the person.

And in that lost moment, Colin knew it was too late.

The grenade exploded with a concussive bang. Colin collapsed where he stood as a bright white light flooded all his senses. He closed his eyes and counted to five. When he opened them, his vision had begun to return.

Relief poured through every inch of his body, and the flood of adrenaline at realizing he was still alive shot him to his feet. Only a stun grenade...but I guess it wasn’t a student hiding in the stacks after all.

Colin stumbled toward the blonde woman and the prone figure, his ears ringing. She was blinking and shaking her head, trying to restore her vision and hearing. He wanted to tell her that her hearing would return within the next few hours, but she might have some ongoing discomfort for a few days. Tinnitus was always a possibility after being hit with a stun grenade. He reached for her shoulder, and she startled at his touch.

When she made eye contact, Colin swayed where he knelt before recovering his senses. She was stunningly gorgeous, with piercing blue eyes and long blond hair that framed her face. Her features reminded him of the images of runway models he’d seen in the newspaper—angular, perfectly proportioned, feminine. Combined with the display of compassion for her friend, it had a powerful impact, and Colin’s heart was overtaxed. He thought he felt it skip a beat before he regained control of the moment.

He lifted his thumb up for a moment and then turned it down. If she had an injury, they’d deal with that first. She gave him a thumbs-up in return and gestured to the person lying on the floor. Colin now recognized her as the middle-aged woman who’d given him a library tour on his first day of teaching on campus.

“Hurt?” Colin said, though of course neither of them could hear each other.

The younger woman leaned over and touched two fingers to the back of the librarian’s skull. Her fingers came away wet and red. Tears filled her eyes and he resisted the urge to let his emotions take over and offer comfort. His sympathy went out to her, but calling emergency services took priority.

He dialed 911 and repeated their location and the nature of the emergency five times, since he couldn’t hear the person on the other end to know if anyone had even picked up yet. Finally, he ended with a simple instruction. “Three subjects hit by stun grenade, hearing lost. Repeat, I cannot hear. If you have received this message, please redial this number after I hang up.”

He hung up and waited, counting the seconds until his phone lit up. When it did, he released the breath he’d been holding, thanked the person on the other end and turned his attention back to the two women. And here he’d thought teaching criminology classes in a small college would be a break from the exhausting Secret Service life. This was the exact thing he’d come here to get away from after making a career-ending mistake two years ago. Last spring, he’d realized staying in Washington, DC, wasn’t doing him any favors. He needed to move on and forget about the ache of being dismissed—and the regret of making a mistake that had caused the woman he loved to be killed, thanks to his inability to separate his heart from his job.

How did he not know the name of the woman in front of him? Shouldn’t he have seen her around by now? Gwyn Ponth was quite small, so far as local colleges went.

She checked the other woman’s pulse, and a second wave of relief flooded through his veins when her worried frown eased. Gently, he helped her to roll the librarian onto her back. She remained unconscious, breath labored but steady, and Colin checked around her head for the source of the blood matting her hair. It appeared to be a superficial wound, much to his great relief. The librarian would feel terrible for a few weeks and likely suffer frustrating headaches, but she’d live.

It was then that Colin noticed the younger woman’s tremble, tears of fright slipping down her cheeks despite the resolve set in her jaw. Her long hair fell in curtains on each side of her face, and from this angle, her delicate features carried an intriguing, ethereal symmetry.

An errant tear escaped its prison and slipped down the side of her right cheek. Without thinking, Colin reached out to wipe it away. Surprise swept through him as he brushed his thumb across her cheek toward her hair. Where he’d expected smooth skin, he felt the tight, bumpy dryness of skin damage—burn scarring? Some other injury?

Instantly, she gasped and knocked his hand away with enough force to sting. The motion revealed too-shiny, reddish scarring from the outside corner of her eye down to the midcenter of her jaw. Her hair had covered it completely.

She scrambled to her feet and leaned against the far side of the hall, where she stayed until the paramedics and police arrived on scene. Once they could both hear again, he’d apologize properly.

And find out if she knew of anybody who might want her or the librarian dead.

TWO

The next morning, Ginny arrived at work a half hour early, despite the department head’s insistence that she take the rest of the week off. Her hearing was still a little muffled, but nothing that she needed to lie in bed over. One of the Language and Culture Department’s teaching assistants had been assigned to take over her classes for the week—and she’d sent the lesson plans in early this morning—but Ginny had a meeting scheduled for today that nothing short of forced hospitalization could keep her from. Unfortunately for Donna, the head librarian’s injury had been more serious, and she was still hospitalized. The doctors had allowed Ginny to go home after getting checked over last night.

As Ginny checked her work email, the memory of finding Donna lying bleeding on the floor was replaced by that of the shocked visage of the handsome man who’d accosted her in the library and helped her after the stun grenade. All that, and she hadn’t even learned his name.

Curious, she loaded up the Gwyn Ponth website and scrolled through to the faculty page. “All right. Who are you?”

“I’m not sure who you’re actually looking for on there, but I’m Colin Tapping. A little farther down the page, though.”

Alarmed, Ginny spun in her chair. The man from last night stood in her office doorway, arms crossed. “Uh...hello?”

He glanced around the shoe box–sized office. “I’ve owned refrigerators larger than this.”

“I spend most of my time in the library or teaching, and they give the best offices to tenured professors.” She stood, matching his stance. “But I doubt you’re here to talk about office space.”

He extended his hand and she reluctantly accepted, feeling an unpleasant gnawing of anxiety in the pit of her stomach. He’d touched her scarred face when trying to wipe away a tear last night. In the process, he’d unknowingly brushed aside the hair she always wore down to cover up the disfigurement her cheek had suffered in a car crash twenty years ago. That crash had effectively ended what her mother had thought would be a lucrative and fame-driven modeling career for her daughter. Her mother had never hidden her desire to live vicariously through her daughter’s success, after her own career had tanked years prior. Her mother had never said it outright, but Ginny had always suspected she was the cause of her mother’s career tanking. After all, an unexpected pregnancy in an early marriage would certainly complicate a modeling career.

“I’m Colin Tapping. Teaching in the Criminology Department this semester.” His handshake was firm and strong. “Though not for the rest of the week. I assume the college insisted the same for you?”

“As you can see, it didn’t stick. I’m Ginny Anderson, specialist in ancient languages and history. I don’t recall seeing you at the faculty briefing before the semester began.”

He pulled his hand back from hers and leaned against the door frame. His eyes flicked to the side of her face and back, but not fast enough to escape her notice. She felt her cheeks grow warm and she touched her hair, making sure it covered the scar. After the car crash, Ginny’s mother had let her know, in no uncertain terms, that Ginny’s beauty—which her mother had bitterly pointed out at a family gathering was her daughter’s only true redeeming quality—had been unequivocally lost forever, and thusly she would never really amount to much.

Ginny didn’t talk to her mother much anymore, but she’d worked hard to make a career for herself teaching and studying ancient history and linguistics. She’d become a specialist in ancient languages, and this morning’s meeting with the local history museum’s curator would bring her one step closer to securing a future at the college. A tenure-track position was up for grabs this year, and if she proved herself valuable enough to the college’s reputation to earn it, she’d be placed on the list of teachers eligible for a permanent tenure position after a few years of hard work. While there were at least six part-time professors vying for tenure track within the department, rumor had it the department head was leaning toward securing someone with a wide range of specializations in both language and history. Ginny shared this qualification with one other professor in the department, though she hadn’t yet formally met her. She only knew it was a woman who’d been a late hire to the faculty after the abrupt departure of the school’s Italian history and language professor.

“I was a last-minute addition to the team.”

Ginny waited for him to elaborate, but he said nothing. She leaned over her computer and began scrolling again through the list of faculty members at the college. If he wouldn’t explain, maybe his bio on the website would.

A chuckle escaped as he must have realized her intentions. “I’m former Secret Service. I don’t know what they’ve put in my blurb, but I hope it also mentions my degrees in criminal justice. I promise I’m qualified, if that’s your concern.”

Ginny felt herself staring. Had he just said Secret Service? “Oh. No, obviously that’s not my call to make. But sorry, what are you doing here? In my office?”

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay, after last night. An event like that can shake a person up. I should also apologize for startling you.”

A deep sigh welled up in Ginny’s chest. She released it slowly, uncertain how to respond to the man in front of her. He seemed kind enough, and it was a thoughtful gesture to check on her, but she couldn’t shake the memory of surprise in his eyes when he’d touched her ruined skin. It brought forth an ache she thought she’d buried long ago.

“I appreciate the gesture, Mr. Tapping, but I have to head out to a very important meeting now and don’t really have time to chat.”

He nodded and stepped aside as she rose and gathered her things. “Where to?”

Were all Secret Service men so nosy? She immediately scolded herself for the thought. He’d been thoughtful enough to ensure her well-being. She could at least engage in polite conversation. “The Rhoads Museum, just up the road. I’m meeting the curator about a recent request.”

“Oh? I haven’t been up there yet. Didn’t realize it was so close.” She glanced sideways at him and he shrugged. “I know, I should visit. Haven’t seen much of the town yet, to be quite honest. Maybe I’ll hit the museum tomorrow. It isn’t like I have any classes to teach this week.”

Had no one taken him on a tour of the area? She suddenly felt bad for trying to brush him off. She recalled feeling disconnected and a little lost during her first semester here, and she’d had several months to acclimatize back then. How callous would she be not to offer what help she could? “What are you up to this morning? I can’t promise a ride back, but I can give you a lift to the museum since I’m going already.”

“That’s very kind of you. Are you sure it’s no trouble? I do have my own car.”

“None at all, especially if you’ve not visited it yet. It’s a small museum but very well curated. I can point out a few local landmarks between here and there, as well.”

“In that case, lead the way.”

He walked alongside her as she left the Daviau Center, the building that housed her department, and headed toward her car. Ginny noticed that he didn’t walk looking forward as most people tended to—the rest of the way to the car and even on the drive, his visual orientation shifted constantly. Overcome by curiosity, Ginny couldn’t help but ask, “What are you doing? Can’t you sit still?”

Colin’s sharp laugh startled her. “Force of habit. Guess you can take the man out of the Secret Service, but not vice versa.”

“Why’d you leave?”

He grew silent and Ginny wondered if she’d pried too deep. When he spoke, his words were clipped. “Made a mistake, got dismissed. The inquiry is ongoing.”

Ginny mouthed a silent “oh.” What could she say to that? Her curious nature tugged on her to ask for more details, but his rigid posture suggested he wasn’t comfortable with the topic.

As they trotted up the gray, hewn stone steps of the museum, Ginny realized she’d joined Colin in scanning their surroundings. After giving her statement to the police last night, they’d told her to be on the lookout for anything unusual in the days ahead, suggesting that she use the campus Foot Patrol service in the evenings. The advice was practical, but useless. The attack had happened indoors in a building that should have been empty aside from several staff members, not while she wandered alone in a public area or parking lot in the dark.

And the police seemed to have no idea who’d done it or why. Each time she’d turned another corner since last night, she couldn’t help but wonder—what if she was walking into another attack?

* * *

“What are you here for, may I ask?” Colin pushed open the museum doors, glancing behind them at the parking lot for a moment before heading inside. Ginny appeared to be considering his question, a tiny smile appearing at the corner of her mouth. When she met his eyes, they sparkled with a contained excitement. When she spoke, her words were clear and strong. She sounded nothing like the deferential woman he’d spoken with so far today.

“If this goes the way I hope it will, I’ll obtain the resources I need to potentially pinpoint an ancient historical site that archaeologists and historians have been seeking for years.”

“Sounds exciting.”

She lowered her voice, flicking an apologetic glance toward the staff at the entrance. “If it works out and I find it, or at least find enough information to support my theory on the location, I’ll be one step ahead of the other tenure-track candidate at the college. If not, well, I’ll be back at square one with this career and have to start all over again at another school. If I can even find another position. It’s not like colleges these days are lining up in droves to hire in the humanities.”

He kept stride alongside her as she made her way to the curator’s office. “Starting over’s not always a bad thing. In the Service, I moved through a variety of departments and had to start at the bottom each time.” He stopped walking, looked back over his shoulder and then at her. “And now, of course. Can’t say I anticipated this career change. Is this where your meeting will be?”

Ginny nodded and raised an eyebrow. “Expecting someone?”

He rubbed his jawline. “After last night, can’t be too careful is all. Looks like your contact is here. Thanks again for the ride.” He backed up toward a wall of Renaissance paintings as Ginny turned toward a man exiting from the office.

“Professor Anderson?”

Ginny shook the curator’s hand as Colin did his best to appear unobtrusive in the moment. They were engaging in the typical social pleasantries and Colin knew this was his cue to move along, but a nagging in the back of his mind stopped him. He didn’t feel comfortable leaving Miss Anderson by herself, not after the events of last night and what he’d learned this morning.

After a visit to the local police station, he’d learned that the stun grenade tossed inside the library last night had been military issue. It was privileged information, sure, but a few officers on the local force had recognized him as a former Secret Service agent from news reports several years back and had opened up after he’d asked them a few carefully worded questions. Something about the situation didn’t sit right. Nothing in the library had been taken, according to the police. An unprovoked attack on the head librarian and a stun grenade inside a college library held little logic and it worried him.

In fact, crossing the wide-open space of the parking lot to the museum had reminded him just how exposed and vulnerable Ginny Anderson was. Sure, the police didn’t know whom the assailant had actually targeted last night, but he didn’t like not knowing for certain whether the danger to her had passed. Assuming it had could be a terrible mistake, the kind of mistake he knew all about. The kind of mistake that cost other people their lives.

No, it would be a bad idea to leave Ginny on her own. Touring the museum took an easy second place to making sure the lovely professor wasn’t still in serious danger.

THREE

“Your grandchildren are truly adorable,” Ginny commented as the curator closed his wallet and slipped it back into his pocket. The man had been eager to show off photos of his family after she’d politely inquired after their well-being. He was such a kind man who obviously cared about others and his work that she’d been happy to listen before turning their meeting’s focus onto the real reason she’d come to the museum this morning. “I must say, Mr. Wehbe, thank you so much for meeting with me and considering my request. I really do appreciate it.”

“No thanks needed, I’m quite happy to do so. It’s not every day that I meet another local academic interested in ancient history and language. Your predecessor spent precious little time with us here, so I was pleased to oblige.”

Ginny’s hopes skyrocketed. “Was pleased to oblige? I don’t suppose that means you already sent in the request?”

Mr. Wehbe chuckled and waved at something—or someone—in his office. “Like I said, it’s not every day that someone requests that our little museum borrow tablets from the basement of the Ashmore Museum in Oxford, England. Fortunately, as you are no doubt already aware, I’m still on excellent terms with the curator there and visit my former place of employment several times a year. In fact, only last week I was there for a brief conference.”

As Mr. Wehbe spoke, movement at the edge of her vision distracted Ginny from the curator’s words. Colin Tapping stood only a few feet away from where she’d left him, gazing at a reproduction of the Wedding at Cana late-Renaissance painting.

Surprise and confusion flared in Ginny’s senses. Was he eavesdropping on her conversation? She shook her head to dislodge the thought. Maybe he really did have an interest in the artwork. Who was she to think otherwise when she’d just met the man yesterday?

“Professor? Is everything all right?” Mr. Wehbe regarded Ginny with concern.

“Sorry, sorry.” Ginny snapped back to reality. “No doubt you heard about the disturbance on campus at the library last night. I spent most of my evening in the hospital and giving a statement to police, and I’m still a little stunned, I suppose.”

“Oh! I read about it in the paper this morning but somehow I didn’t make the connection. I’m so sorry to hear you were involved. I do hope you take some time to recover. I’m surprised you’re here this morning.”

“I’m fine,” Ginny said, waving his concern off with a pinched smile. After all, she’d truthfully been through much worse in the car accident twenty years ago. “But you were saying?”

“Ah, yes. I’m saying I have the tablets here. I received clearance and was able to bring over the tablets you requested. There is, however, a caveat.”

Ginny gaped at the curator. “They’re here? Right now? And I can study them immediately?”

“Well, yes and no.”

From the curator’s office, a gentleman emerged wearing a well-fitted brown tweed suit and Panama hat and carrying a hefty brown leather satchel. He appeared to be at most in his midforties or early fifties. He strode forward and offered his hand to Ginny as Mr. Wehbe made the introductions.

“Professor Anderson, please meet Dr. Hilden. Hilden, this is the ancient history and language professor I’ve been telling you about. She’s the one working on a theory concerning the location of King Ramesh’s summer palace in the Kingdom of Amar.”

Dr. Hilden smiled warmly and took Ginny’s outstretched hand in a firm handshake while she continued to gape at the both of them, struggling to make sense of the moment. Dr. Hilden? The name sounded vaguely familiar. “Pleased to meet you, Professor Anderson.”

The curator cleared his throat before continuing, a nervous quaver in his voice. “I wanted to be able to clear this with you ahead of time, but Dr. Hilden is here in an official capacity from the University of Amar. He’ll be functioning as a consultant on your work at the request of both the Ashmore Museum and the Amar government. The Amarans were hesitant to approve the request to move the tablets from their safety at Ashmore in England to our little museum in Pennsylvania, but we were able to reach an agreement. Dr. Hilden is a specialist in Amaran history, much like you, but—”

“Less linguistic background.” Dr. Hilden tapped on the brown bag he carried. “I have clearance to hand these select tablets to you so long as they don’t leave the vicinity of the museum or the college at any time. We’ll have you sign a few documents before you head out with them, but ultimately you and I will share responsibility for their safety.”

Ginny couldn’t believe it, for several reasons. As delighted as she was that she’d received approval to study these ancient tablets so quickly, it felt a bit insulting that the Amarans thought she needed a babysitter to care for their precious artifacts. How many papers had she written on Amaran history and language already? She was well-known among her peers for her work in this area. She had nothing but the utmost respect for Amar’s history, and was in fact trying to enrich it with her discovery. But from the sound of things, if she tried to argue her point, Dr. Hilden would be back on an airplane and she’d lose the chance to see the tablets forever, save traveling to the Ashmore Museum in England or the University of Amar. A part-time professor’s salary didn’t exactly allow her extravagances such as jetting off to another country on a moment’s notice.

“Dr. Hilden happened to be at the conference at the Ashmore, as well,” said Mr. Wehbe. “Quite a coincidence, yes? Anyhow, Professor Anderson, I imagine you’d like to get started as soon as possible.”

Contact information was exchanged and Ginny signed what seemed like a novel’s length of documents declaring her responsibility for the artifacts on foreign soil, and she set a meeting with Dr. Hilden for later that afternoon. When the dust from the whirlwind surprise finally began to settle, Ginny found herself standing outside the curator’s office with a satchel full of ancient tablets in hand.

She took two steps forward, prying her attention from the bag, only to discover Colin Tapping stood directly in front of her, arms folded across his chest.

And this time, he did not look pleased.

* * *

“Productive meeting, I assume?” He approached her, nodding at the heavy leather satchel slung over her shoulder.

She frowned at him. “You can’t be finished seeing the museum already. Were you eavesdropping on me?” Her eyebrows pinched together as she tried to step around him.

He fell into step beside her. “No, but I do owe you an explanation.”

She stopped and looked him up and down. “You didn’t come here to see the art at all, did you, Professor Tapping.” Her tone turned flat, making her question a statement.

“I did, honest. And please, stick with Colin. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the professor title.” He held the door open so she could pass through. She’d hoisted up the satchel and clutched it tight to her chest. “But as we arrived, it dawned on me that you may still be in danger. The police aren’t sure where the stun grenade that was thrown last night came from, but the fact that somebody had access to one and used it with possible intent to harm is disconcerting. I hoped you’d allow me to keep an eye out for you on your way back to the campus.”

Ginny didn’t look at him as she carefully traversed the museum steps, gripping the handrail for balance. “The police I spoke to last night suggested Donna may have fainted and hit her head, before the grenade thing. She’ll be in the hospital for a few days to have her condition monitored, but it could have been much worse. I thank God it wasn’t.”

“Agreed. But it doesn’t explain where the grenade came from.”

She stopped at the base of the steps, then turned to face him. “I appreciate your concern, but I don’t feel like I’m in danger. This isn’t an area of town where many exciting things happen, you know?”

Colin paused his ongoing visual scan of the museum grounds and nearby parking lot to focus on the woman standing in front of him. He felt a tug in his chest, part of an ingrained need to protect someone who might be in danger. Twelve years of doing that in various capacities in the Service didn’t simply vanish with the change of position.

“I’m glad to hear that. I also know it’s true that getting hit by a stun grenade can be mentally and physically traumatizing, despite its less-than-lethal status. I know you’ve said you don’t feel like you’re in danger, but I’ve also noticed you looking over your shoulder.”

Ginny shifted her weight and trained her gaze on the sidewalk. “It’s silly, right? It was probably a prank, and now I can’t help but feel like I’m being watched. I keep hearing the metallic clink of that thing hitting the wall, rolling toward us...” She broke off, eyes unfocused.

Colin knew that look. She’d retreated into herself, reliving the moment. “Ginny. Professor Anderson.” He touched her shoulder and her eyes came back into focus, angry at first, then softening as he took his hand away. Her expression, so familiar from last night, reminded him of when he’d accidentally brushed the bumpy red scarring on her cheek. He couldn’t see it now—she’d pulled some of her hair up into a messy bun and left the rest to frame her face.

“It’s going to be all right.” He tried to smile to put her at ease, but the gesture felt tight and insincere. “I won’t lie to you, though. I do worry that you might be in danger and I’d like to look out for you, since I have the training and ability to do so. At least until the police have more information on what happened last night.”

She shook her head. “I don’t need another babysitter.”

“Another? Well, I’m not suggesting you do. It makes me nervous that we may have an individual on or around campus with access to serious weaponry, though.”

Ginny scoffed and stepped away from him, continuing her journey toward the parking lot and her car. “I think you’re blowing this out of proportion. We don’t have all the facts and you’re acting like there’s some big scheme at play to hurt me. Need I remind you that the librarian is the one in the hospital, not me?”

“Under constant surveillance from hospital staff. It’s not my intention to cause unnecessary stress, but I want to be up-front with you about my concerns.”

She pressed her lips together, then sighed. “I’m only going from here to my office for now. I teach a class later today and I have a meeting with a historical consultant from the Kingdom of Amar. Then I’ll probably go to the library if it’s reopened, and head home. That’s it. Everywhere will be public, and I’ll bring a Foot Patrol student along if I need to go anywhere after dark or into any locked-up areas. Does that sound safe enough?”

Under normal circumstances, yes, but if his time in the Secret Service’s Presidential Protection Division had taught him anything, it was that threats tended to lurk where the average person least expected them.

“Not particularly. At least let me see you back to campus safely.” He noticed she’d begun straining under the weight of the large satchel in her arms. “Can I carry that bag to your car for you?”

She shook her head and tightened her grip around it. “That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said in the past few minutes, but no. I can’t allow you to carry it. I’m under agreement with the museum that I will not allow the bag to leave my person unless it’s locked up safely in my department’s archaeology lab. And it can’t go beyond the grounds of the museum or college. It’s kind of you to offer, though.”

“What’s so important about the bag?” A growing frustration at her lack of urgency took over and he flicked two fingers against the bag’s handles. He realized his mistake the moment his fingers made contact. Ginny glared at him and it occurred to him that he’d just done the same thing to her that she’d done to him—dismissed her expertise about handling her chosen profession. “Ginny, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Have a lovely day, Mr. Tapping. I assume you can find your way back to campus.”

He watched as she headed toward her car, her steps sure and confident. He’d handled that in all the wrong ways, and she was under no obligation to accept his offer to look out for her. It was never easy to protect someone who didn’t want protecting. He’d have to make a compromise here and keep an eye on her from a distance for today. As soon as she was safely inside her car, he’d run back to the college—he could use the opportunity to scope out potential threat areas, anyway—and rejoin her in her office to try apologizing again.

The woman had to be feeling bruised and battered after last night, so he couldn’t blame her for becoming irritated by his assertions. Clearly whatever she had inside that satchel held enough importance for her to ignore the pain, get out of bed and haul herself down to the museum.

Colin continued to scan the area until Ginny reached her car at the edge of the parking lot. He began to relax as she made her way to the passenger side of the little blue hatchback—to secure the heavy bag on the seat beside her, he guessed—but the loud roar of an engine springing to life somewhere nearby sent him back into alert mode.

And then he saw it. A white cube van sped down the parking lot aisle, right toward Ginny.

FOUR

Colin’s stomach lurched, first out of concern for how fast the driver was going in a parking lot, and then a second time when he grew sure the van wasn’t headed toward an exit. It sped toward Ginny, who had her back to the parking lot as she secured her bags in the car.

Colin didn’t waste time asking why or how or whether his suspicion even made sense. He sprang toward her with a burst of speed, grateful he’d kept up his physical training despite being out of the Service these past few years. If only he had his sidearm on hand, he’d have the van incapacitated in seconds without breaking a sweat. Short sprints and lightning-fast reaction times made all the difference when on protective detail.

It took a fraction of a second for Colin to recognize that he was too far away to reach her in time. He kept sprinting as the cube van pulled alongside her. The side door slid open and a man with a black hood pulled low over his face jumped out of the van and grabbed Ginny’s waist from behind.

Colin shouted a split second before Ginny’s scream rent the air. The man pulled her out of the car and covered her mouth, but her hands remained latched to the ceiling grab handle above the door. Smart woman, Colin thought. Her quick reaction would buy him enough time to reach her.

Except that when he drew within several yards of the van, a second hooded assailant jumped out. He pointed a gun in Colin’s direction, but Colin was too close and the man’s reaction time too slow. Colin ducked as he approached, hoping that the hoodlum didn’t have the foresight to fire. He grabbed the gunman’s wrist, then yanked it in toward his chest and twisted, forcing the gun down and out of the man’s hand. The gun clattered to the ground as Colin used the force of an upper-elbow blow to send the man reeling backward, clutching his jaw.

He risked a glance at Ginny, who—on seeing Colin’s approach—had released her grip on the car and twisted around in her attacker’s grasp to claw at the man’s face. The man now had her wrists locked in his meaty hands as Ginny attempted to kick at him anywhere she could reach.

Colin heard shouts from inside the van—there were more of these guys inside?—but he couldn’t afford for it to split his focus further. He kicked the gun on the ground toward a row of parked cars and in two strides had gripped the man attacking Ginny by the neck. He wrenched the attacker away from her, throwing him to the ground with practiced efficiency.

The man rolled as he dropped, leaped to his feet and shouted at his companion to retreat. Both assailants scrambled back inside the van, sliding the door closed as it peeled out of the parking lot, tires squealing.

Colin whirled around to make sure Ginny was all right, but she already leaned against the car with her phone in her hand. “Calling 911?”

She nodded as the operator picked up. With exceptional calm, she told them exactly what had happened and hung up. “Police will be here soon.”

He noticed that she too breathed heavily from the exertion moments ago. He was in shape, sure, but an encounter like that took the wind out of anyone, and they were both having trouble catching their breath.

“Are you hurt? Let’s get you sitting down inside the car, all right? Get a few minutes of rest before the emergency teams arrive.”

“I’m okay,” she said, the calm facade slipping as the adrenaline of the moment faded. “Oh, wow. I can’t believe that just happened.”

Colin reached into the passenger side of the car, unhooked the bag she’d been carrying and placed it on the driver’s seat. She didn’t protest as he guided her to sit inside the car, her tremble growing to a full-body shake as the seconds passed. She regarded him with wide, frightened eyes. “Take deep breaths, Ginny. This will pass, but what I need you to do right now is visualize everything that happened. Grab on to details, any small details that you can. Anything at all will help the police find and catch them, got it? I know you want to forget, but the more you can capture in your memory right after this incident, the more accurately you’ll be able to tell them what happened.”

She nodded, swallowing hard before leaning back against the beige car seat. “Guess I should have taken the day off after all.”

“Better to have this happen here than at your home, though.”

She sat up in surprise. “At home? You don’t think this was random? I guess not, considering.”

Colin glanced around the area, staying watchful in case the van had circled around and come back. He didn’t see anything aside from a few startled museum visitors who’d likely witnessed the incident. The familiar wail of emergency sirens rose in the distance. “I think we can rule out random at this point.” His gaze was drawn to the bag she’d been carrying. “I’d say now is a better time than ever to finish the conversation we started earlier. What’s in the bag?”

Ginny laughed without humor. “Nothing worth kidnapping over, that’s for sure. They’re a bunch of old clay tablets from one of the Kingdom of Amar’s archaeological sites. They’ve been sitting in the basement of a museum in England for decades, waiting to be translated. It’s part of a project I’ve been working on for a while. I’m planning to decipher them in hopes that they reveal some more information about the location of the summer palace of King Ramesh.”

Kidnapping and ancient tablets? It sounded more like a movie than real life. “Is there, I don’t know, treasure there?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “It’s not like that at all. Anyone with a modicum of interest in this stuff knows that all the ancient historical sites were looted centuries ago, and many of them were actually looted in ancient times. The more important thing is the location of the summer palace and proving that it actually exists. It’s been a point of contention because it would prove the royal lineage of the Amaran desert people. It’s a discovery that could change Amar’s accepted history and view of their society for the better. It would be a massive find for history, archaeology and the Kingdom of Amar—but nothing worth kidnapping over. There’s no financial gain in these tablets themselves, even translated. And selling them untranslated is worth nothing.”

“Would they know that?”

“That’s kind of an important detail if you’re kidnapping someone, isn’t it? You think some bad guys would kidnap me for a bag full of old, dried clay? If they were gold statues or even Egyptian faience figurines, it’d be another story. Plus, it doesn’t explain the grenade last night. I didn’t even know I would have these in my possession until about an hour ago.”

Colin had to agree with her, but they’d need to talk about it later. An ambulance arrived along with several police cars. Even if Ginny didn’t know why she’d been targeted, Colin felt sure of one thing—the woman was in danger, and he might be the only one with the necessary ability to protect her.

* * *

Ginny’s hands shook as she sprinkled fish food into Tigris’s tank. Her little orange-and-blue betta fish swam upward and eagerly picked out pieces of dried shrimp as Ginny put the container away. She clasped her hands, trying to still their tremor.

“You need anything?” Colin leaned against the door frame, standing half in her office and half in the department’s main thoroughfare. She appreciated his thoughtfulness in driving her car back to the college and seeing her safely back to the Daviau Center, but for whatever reason, he hadn’t left her alone yet. It had started to feel a bit stifling. They were still strangers, after all.

“You don’t need to hang around,” she said, hoping he’d take the hint. “I know you probably have other things to do.”

“We’re both off from teaching classes for the week, Professor. We should both be at our respective homes, getting some rest.”

“I’m not stopping you.”

He grunted and folded his arms. “I don’t like the idea of leaving you vulnerable. Two attacks in less than twenty-four hours. That’s no prank.”

“There’s also no proof they’re related,” Ginny muttered, slumping into her desk chair. She took a deep, slow breath to shove away the wave of anxiety hovering around the edge of her consciousness. “And last I checked, you’re not Secret Service anymore, so I’m not obligated to accept any kind of protection from you. I don’t appreciate the insinuation that I can’t handle myself.” She paused, the words catching in her throat because she had needed him there. If Colin hadn’t been present last night or this morning, she’d be having a very different conversation. Possibly with an abductor. Or a nurse.

Colin grunted again and stared out into the departmental office. “Never said you’re not capable. Everyone needs help sometimes, and while you’re right—you’re not obligated—I’d consider myself responsible if anything happened to you that was in my power to prevent.”

Ginny breathed deeply as she watched Tigris swim laps in his wide, plastic fishbowl. She did appreciate Colin’s help. He’d come to her rescue without hesitation, the kind of attractive and strong hero whom plenty of girls would love to be saved by, but he’d already told her it came down to instinctive response born through training. Not because he had any kind of personal investment in her well-being. Of course, she should have expected that from someone who’d seen her scar.

“I’ll think about it, Colin.” With her heart finally beating at a more normal pace, Ginny picked up the satchel of tablets and set them on her desk. Even the events of today couldn’t dislodge the excitement of physically having in her hands a set of ancient tablets she’d only dreamed of seeing. Anxiety followed close behind, too—at best, she’d thought that Mr. Wehbe might find someone to dig the tablets out of crates in the Ashmore Museum’s basement where they’d spent the past sixty or so years, then take updated photos and send those over. But to have entrusted her with the physical objects?

They were valuable from a historical point of view. Potential evidence to support her theory. But while the knowledge that might be gained from them was priceless, the tablets themselves were not. No one would try to abduct her over a bunch of old tablets.

She picked up a sand-colored oblong tablet about the width and length of two candy bars, then ran her fingers lightly over the inscription. The surface felt rough and grainy, though environmental factors had smoothed some of its edges.

“Not much to look at, is it?” Colin regarded the object she held with cool detachment. “Wonder if the original tablets with the Ten Commandments looked anything like that?”

Ginny smiled to herself, used to these kinds of questions. “Actually, those tablets—”

“Professor Anderson?” A voice from the hallway was followed by a face peering around the corner of her office door. Colin stepped aside to allow Sam, a teaching assistant for her Introduction to Near Eastern Studies class, inside. The student was covering the front reception desk for Mrs. McCall, the departmental secretary, who’d stayed home this morning to nurse her sick toddler.

He waved a large, flat yellow mailing envelope in his hand. “I meant to catch you when you came back, but this arrived for you a half hour or so ago. Right before you got back from the museum.”

“Thanks, Sam.” She took it and frowned at the front. The envelope was nondescript, completely unremarkable, with no stamp or return address. Only her name had been affixed to the envelope with a printed label, neglecting to mention her box number or even the name of her department. It had obviously not been through the mail system but simply left here for her. “Who dropped this off?”

Sam shrugged. “A phone call came in from an alumnus and I had to check the filing cabinet for some old records. When I turned around it was there on the desk, no one around. I’m sure it wasn’t there before. Weird, huh?”

“Probably another interdepartmental memo or something.” She glanced at Colin, who also shrugged. She slipped a finger underneath the envelope flap and ripped it open. Inside rested several sheets of paper, which she slipped out with care. A letter? Who wrote a letter these days when they could write an email? It looked as though it had been composed on an old-fashioned typewriter, the inked letters leaving a slight indentation on the paper’s surface.

She began reading. Her stomach dropped.

Dear Professor Anderson,

Greetings. I do hope this letter finds you well, and I must ask you to please excuse the nature by which I have delivered this correspondence. Circumstances beget such a necessity and besides, I abhor technology in all its forms, avoiding it at all costs—insofar as it is reasonable to do so. First, however, I must apologize for the rude actions of my compatriots earlier this morning. Please be assured that they acted out of turn in assaulting your personage, and it will not happen again so long as our interactions warrant it thusly.

Ginny waved a hand at Colin, her eyes glued to the page. In an instant, he was by her side, reading the letter over her shoulder.

I am truly grateful that a gentleman was present to thwart those characters who I assure you misunderstood the nature of my instructions. They were in no way directed to approach you in such an invasive manner. It is not...diplomatic, shall we say.

But now we come to the real issue, yes? The tablets you have in your possession. I am aware of their presence and I am aware of their importance. However, it may behoove you to know that the work you do is not so innocent as the academic world would have you believe. Allow me to make you an offer, Professor. Fifty thousand dollars in exchange for your assurance that you will abandon this research project.

You will place all of your existing notes and theorems inside this envelope. Drop it in the waste bin outside the public area commonly referred to as the “quad” at four o’clock this afternoon. Destroy any remaining files that contain your work and return the tablets to the museum. Explain that you have discovered your theories are no longer feasible with the available evidence and that you will be publishing a retraction of your preliminary reports. Yes, Professor Anderson, I have read your preliminary reports on the summer palace location. A little far-fetched, hmm?

Once you have completed these tasks, you will discover yourself fifty thousand dollars richer. I imagine this will go a long way on a part-time professor’s salary.

Remember, four o’clock today. I advise against tardiness in this matter.

The letter ended there. No signature and nothing on the other side of the page.

Ginny’s hand shook, blurring the words. She had so many questions, she couldn’t keep track of them all. Was this some kind of a joke? A student thinking it would be funny to mess with her head after what had happened this morning?

Surely no one would be so dense as to believe that she’d give up her research—her potentially career-changing research—for a bribe.

Colin reached across and plucked the paper from her trembling hands, and a sense of relief that he was there rushed through her. He’d know what to do, wouldn’t he?

“Well, that’s odd. Looks like this was typed up manually.”

Or maybe not. She plunked her elbows on the desk, covering her face with her hands. “What’s going on? I teach ancient history. I don’t have secrets or hidden knowledge. It’s like I’m stuck in a bad made-for-TV movie.”

Colin glanced out into the department common area, then took two steps to cross her tiny office and look out its small window. He pulled across the gauzy curtain so that it hid them from view. “I wish I knew. It’s strange that whoever sent this would target you without an explanation. Sounds like someone wants you to stop your research, but based on what you’ve told me, it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. There’s no financial gain, unless someone’s reputation is at stake. Is that a possibility?”

Ginny laughed bitterly. “Only my own professional reputation. If I publish a retraction of my earlier work, I’ll have set my career back by several years. I won’t be eligible for the tenure-track position and my next assertions will be met with severe scrutiny.”

“Sounds like you care a lot about what other people think.”

“When it comes to my professional reputation and the future of my career? Absolutely.”

“Careers aren’t the be-all and end-all of life.”

“Of course they are—oh.” Her face fell when she realized what she’d said. “Sorry. You said you didn’t leave the Secret Service by choice?”

“No, and it’s fine. I don’t talk about it a lot and I’d prefer not to.” Ginny started to apologize, to explain that she’d only been curious, but he held up a hand to stop her and tapped on the envelope instead. “I’m going to take this down to the police station. I can’t guarantee they’ll be able to do a lot since there’s no specific threat here, but I’m hoping the admission of responsibility for the events of the past twenty-four hours will be enough to tie it all together.”

“What about fingerprints? Tracing the paper or office supplies or ink? I’ve seen that on television.”

“Yours, mine and Sam’s. Maybe the sender touched it, but who sends a threatening letter and leaves a fingerprint? For that matter, who sends a physical letter instead of, say, calling?”

Ginny clutched a tablet in one hand and brushed the outside edge before tracing the shapes on the inside. “Someone who doesn’t like new things. New technology. If someone is trying to terrorize me into stopping my research, they must have an interest in old things.”

“That’s one possibility. But the label with your name looks printed off a computer, not a typewriter.”

“The sender mentioned associates. Maybe someone did it for him or her?”

As Colin’s mouth set into a firm, hard line, Ginny’s confidence faltered. If he couldn’t figure it out, what chance did she have against this mysterious adversary?

* * *

Colin stole a glance at Ginny, not at all surprised by the weariness on her face. He’d seen that look plenty of times on the faces of those he’d protected. Presidents, diplomats, persons of national importance, didn’t matter whom. No one had an easy time when it came to threats on his or her life. This wasn’t the first threatening letter he’d seen, but it was one of the most carefully put together. Generic envelope, generic paper and an assumption that Ginny would follow through. And the writer had the gall to drop it off in person.

“Are there security cameras around here?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Only at the entrances on either end of the building. The ones you see inside are dummies to deter students from destructive behavior. You could ask for security footage from outside, but it won’t be easy to go through. There’ll be a few hundred students coming and going, since some of the school’s administration offices are upstairs.”

It’d be a start, at least. The police would want to have a look at the footage as soon as he told them about the letter, but he wanted to get a look at it first. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to dial the security office. “I’m going to make a quick call and stand right outside your door, all right?” He watched as Ginny nervously rubbed her fingers over a tablet, her shoulders high and tense. “Should you be touching those things like that? I thought ancient stuff needed gloves and a secure environment.”

Some of the tension in her shoulders dropped. Good. The woman needed a few moments to relax, to rebuild her strength. Just in case.

Just in case. He hated the necessity of thinking that way, but better to be prepared than caught unawares. Those kinds of mistakes could be fatal—and one had been for the woman he was assigned to protect two years ago. Lynn Gustav, daughter of a diplomat, had stolen his heart and his focus. He’d been distracted in a critical moment and an assassin’s bullet found its mark. He hadn’t been able to save her.

He would not let his guard down like that again.

“Some ancient things, yes,” she was saying. “But not everything, otherwise only a few people would be able to study them. Clay tablets are durable, as long as you don’t throw them on the ground or run them over with a tractor. They’ve lasted this long, after all.”

Colin reached across to touch one, wondering at the texture of a thousands-of-years-old piece of clay, but Ginny yanked the one she held out of reach.

“Sorry.” Her face flushed. “I’m the only one allowed to touch them, remember? Aside from Mr. Wehbe and the Amaran representative overseeing my project. The tablets are durable and not financially worth much, but they’re still valuable pieces of history in other ways. And they don’t belong to the United States. Our agreement is that their handling is to be strictly controlled.”

“Ah, yes. Protocol. Who knew pieces of clay had protocol?” Much to Colin’s surprise, he couldn’t take his eyes off her reddened cheeks. She combed more strands of blond hair over her scarred cheek, fingers moving absently—as if it had become a habit she wasn’t even aware of.

His phone began to buzz, reminding him that he’d been about to make a phone call to campus security. He frowned at the caller ID. Private number?

“Tapping,” he answered.

“Good afternoon, Professor. Is that what they’re calling you these days? Must be quite the change.”

Colin swallowed a burst of disbelief. “Sir?”

A chuckle on the other end confirmed the identity of the caller. “And hello to you as well, Tapping. Surprised to hear from me?”

Of course he was. He hadn’t directly spoken to anyone from the Secret Service since the day they’d completed his discharge papers, the director having bowed to political pressure to dismiss him the day after the incident. The diplomat whose daughter had been killed had called for blood, and what easier resolution than to fire the agent who’d failed to protect her? It had only been his career ended as a result, taking the heat off the Secret Service. Not that he didn’t blame himself for what had happened. He’d known from the beginning that it was unwise to become romantically involved with a protectee and had fallen for her anyway.

“Deputy Director Bennett. I’m not sure if I should say it’s good to hear from you or not.”

“Fair enough. How’re things? Got a good gig up there?”

Colin grimaced and stole another glance at Ginny. She looked up at him quizzically, but he’d have to answer her questions later. As nice as it should be to receive a personal phone call from the Secret Service’s deputy director, he had a feeling it wasn’t a social call. After all, Deputy Director Bennett had been the one to sign his discharge papers. “Pays the bills.”

“Not thrilled to hear my voice, are you? I get it, Tapping. I really do.”

“Deputy Director, I’m in the middle of something at the moment. Is there something pressing?”

“Down to business. You haven’t changed a bit.” Bennett’s voice softened. “You were a good agent, Colin. I’m still sorry things ended the way they did.”

“Part of the job, Deputy Director. Consequences for every action.”

“Yes, but...ah, well. Speaking of people needing protection.”

“Very subtle.”

“I do my best. Listen, Tapping, we’ve been hearing rumblings about some shakeups happening overseas that may tie into a little drama unfolding in your corner. I realize this is unconventional, but we’ve been requested to keep our eyes open for an Amaran representative en route to Pennsylvania. Heading to your corner of the state. Know anything about this?”

Colin thought back to Ginny’s meeting at the museum this morning. Hadn’t she mentioned that she’d met a gentleman who’d arrived from the Kingdom of Amar to assist with her work? “I think he may already be here, sir. Name of Hilden? He’s working with a colleague.”

“Already there?” The sound of shuffling papers reached Colin’s ears before Bennett’s voice came through the receiver again. “That’s what we get for receiving information secondhand. Look, we weren’t asked to specifically provide a detail for him, but the incident with the military-issue grenade on your campus and this Dr. Hilden’s proximity has the White House a little nervous. We’re on good terms with the kingdom, but you know how quickly things change in the world these days.”

Colin ground his teeth as Deputy Director Bennett talked. Two years ago, he’d have jumped all over this kind of information, but right now it did nothing but frustrate him, reminding him of what he no longer had. “I’m not sure what I have to do with this.”

Bennett sighed. “I know you owe us nothing, Colin. And I know helping us out is the last thing you probably want to do, after what happened. But our hands are full over here dealing with a number of sensitive political situations, and we can’t spare a man for a detail that’s not a sure thing or specifically requested by the president. The local police chief I talked to mentioned that you were up at the college there.”

“Let me guess, you want me to keep an eye on this Dr. Hilden character. Make sure no one lobs a live one in his direction, is that it?”

“More or less. Off the record. Informal. Just keep an eye out. As a favor.”

“What makes you think I’d have any interest in doing you a favor?” Colin tried to swallow down his anger, but it rose fast and furious. “Not that it makes any difference to you, but I’ve got someone else I’m watching out for at the moment. Another professor here is working on some ancient tablets on loan from the Kingdom of Amar and she’s been the target of...look, you know what? Never mind. Have a good day, Deputy Director.”

Colin hung up and thumped his head against the door frame. Two years had changed him, whether Bennett saw it or not. He’d never have talked out of turn and hung up like that two years ago. Bennett didn’t deserve it, as it wasn’t entirely the man’s fault that Colin had been dismissed from the Secret Service.

Bennett hadn’t been the one who failed to protect his assignment. Lynn Gustav had died on Colin’s watch, no one else’s. If only he hadn’t let his heart get so involved. If only he hadn’t taken her safety for granted, allowing himself to be distracted by his feelings.

“Who was that?” Wide-eyed, Ginny flicked her chin at the phone. “Didn’t sound good.” She bent to replace the tablet she’d been holding inside the leather satchel.

A sense of determination rose up from within, combining with his finely honed instinct from years of training. Active agent or not, it was his duty to protect critical individuals from potential danger by any means necessary. With a growl of frustration, he ignored Ginny’s inquiry and hit Redial. Bennett picked up on the first ring.

“I’ve got a better idea,” Colin said before the man could speak. “The colleague here working on ancient tablets from Amar is the one who’s being targeted, not Hilden. I truly believe she’s the one in danger, and it’s her and those tablets you need to be worried about. Since she’s the one being targeted, she’s my priority. Her and these foreign artifacts. That said, I’ll keep an eye out for any danger facing Hilden and an ear to the ground, just in case. If I hear anything unusual, I’ll report in if and when I have any information. But I’m going to need something in return.”

Colin heard Deputy Director Bennett drum his fingers on his desk. “You do us a favor, I’ll do you a favor. You need resources or backup and we’re there. You know the Service takes care of its own, Tapping, active or not. So long as you want to cooperate with us, we’ll have your back.”

“I still believe in the tenets and values of the Service, Deputy Director. That will never change, and that’s why I’m doing this. It’s the right thing to do.” He refused to allow another woman to come to harm if he had the power to stop it.

“Of course. You’re an honorable man and I respect that. And, Tapping?”

The deputy director’s tone of voice changed, became more sympathetic. Colin tensed, unsure whether he wanted to continue this conversation. “What is it?”

“I know your dismissal case is still in limbo, tied up in red tape. You’ve been waiting to hear back for two years on whether it’s a permanent cut.”

“I’m well aware.” Why was Bennett opening this old wound? “I’m not sure how that’s relevant.”

The deputy director cleared his throat before continuing. “All I’m saying is it would be prudent for your image among the leadership here if this goes well. Maybe even to the point of pushing your case through faster. And with a positive result.”

“Are you saying that if I cooperate with you on this, I might get my job back?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “I’m saying there’s a very good chance we’ll see you in uniform again. You were an asset to the Service, Tapping. The kind of man this country needs protecting its president. A good agent.”

Colin hung up for a second time and stared at the phone in his hands. “But not good enough.”

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