Acts of Honor Read Free Page A

the question had occurred to her just yet. She pursed her lips, tilted her head. “Serious problem.” National security implications, integrity of ongoing missions, safety of all Shadow Watchers and regular AID operatives—those were but a few of the considerations and hazards.
    No wonder Foster always seemed wired too tight. Carrying around responsibilities this weighty would do that to any man. “What you’re telling me is that I cure your operative, or he’s deemed unsalvageable—without your finding out what happened to him.”
    “That’s correct. Certainly not our preference, due to the potential complications I mentioned, but our resources have been exhausted.”
    His resources hadn’t yet been tapped. Foster couldn’t risk alerting non-AID personnel or his superior officers that his missions weren’t secure. In his world of red tape, the man had to answer to someone, and his credibility would be shot. But she’d give him the lie. “So if I don’t do this, or if I fail, then that means you terminate this operative, right?” What else could unsalvageable mean to spies?
    Foster’s gaze slid away.
    Sara girded her loins and persisted. No way was she getting involved in this without knowing the full scale, scope, and consequences. “Am I right, Foster?”
    The blinds streaked slatted shadows across his face. “We prefer canceled.”
    “Damn it, just once would you call a spade a spade? Forget your military jargon and sidestepping semantics and just tell me the truth.” Sara glared at him. “I fail, and the man is murdered. Yes, or no?”
    “Yes.”
    The breath left her lungs. She’d expected it. But expecting it and hearing him admit it were totally different things. She studied Foster’s expression, his posture, his eyes. No remorse, regret, or apology. He would kill the operative. Reeling, she struggled to pull together a cohesive thought, settled for a mumbled, “I see,” and felt damn grateful for it.
    “I’m glad you grasp the gravity of the situation.”
    “It’s hard to miss.” Sara put the pencil down on her desk. Her instincts warned her to back off; she was in over her head. But if she did, then the operative would die. She had no doubts about that, nor any illusions. And then some other family would be in the position Brenda and Lisa were in, suffering the same hell they were suffering, wondering what they had done to make their loved one prefer being dead to living with them.
    David hadn’t committed suicide. He’d been canceled. Sara knew it as well as she knew she couldn’t condemn a man to death, or a family to hell. “So who is the patient?”
    Foster didn’t falter. “I can’t tell you that.”
    Typical. Just  . . . typical. She squeezed her chair’s arms until her palms and fingers stung. “Then how am I supposed to treat him?”
    “Actually, you’ll treat five patients. He’ll be one of them.”
    “Five?” The man was arrogant and absurd. “I can’t take on five new patients at once.”
    “Of course you can.”
    Sara bit down on her temper, resisted an urge to shout at him. “Look, let me explain something to you. In therapy, I operate from a base of trust, and that takes time to develop. Without it, I have no foundation—and no hope for success. That aside, I already have a full caseload and a healthy waiting list, so what you’re asking me to do is utterly impossible.”
    “It’s possible,” he countered. “And your current patients won’t be adversely affected. You have my word on that.”
    Won’t be adversely affected? Was she supposed to feel grateful he wouldn’t cancel them to get them out of his way? “Not to antagonize you, Foster, but your record with me on trust-inspiring issues leaves a lot to be desired. What’s your word worth on this?”
    He didn’t so much as blink. “Finding out the truth about David Quade.”
    Her throat went tight. Those were the ones. The magic words. The irresistible offer.
    And both she and Foster knew