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she’d called him to tell him she knew something. Knew he’d been involved in the Massacre. That scared him enough to come out to Portland and kidnap her. She fought back and the driver of the van drove off a bridge and one of the members of my team, a former Navy SEAL, dove in and rescued Isabel. Hector was dead.”
    “Is the long version available?” Her mind was furiously trying to shape a picture from these small pieces of the puzzle but it wasn’t working. Too many pieces were missing. Kidnapping
Isabel
? She was a lovely woman who was a gifted food blogger, nothing political about her. “Why on earth would Hector Blake try to kidnap Isabel? And why were you in Portland? None of this makes any sense.”
    Jack rubbed a hand over the stubble on his head. “Hard to know where to begin.”
    “At the beginning, where else?” she said and rolled her eyes.
    He huffed out a breath. “Okay. I was running an informant in the Chinese PLA, who worked in their Fourth Directorate. He was found dead after passing some intel on to me.”
    “Fourth Directorate,” Summer murmured. “Cyberwarfare.”
    “That’s right.” Jack narrowed his eyes at her. “How’d you know that?”
    Summer took a deep calming breath, letting the first hot words that bubbled to the surface go. “Please. I majored in political science and I run an online blog dedicated to politics. Domestic and foreign. Of course I know what the Fourth Directorate of the PLA is.”
    Jack held big hands up, palms out. “Whoa, whoa. Sorry. I’m used to dealing with civilians who don’t have a clue.”
    “Well, I’m a civilian, and I do have a clue.”
    “I guess you do.” An expression flashed across Jack’s face, intense and fleeting and Summer had no problems at all deciphering it. It was pure sex, just a flash of it, like an oven that popped open then closed again immediately.
    Heat shot through her. She tingled down to her fingers and toes and it lit her up, exactly like walking in front of a blast furnace.
    Or stepping into hell.
    Because getting hot and sweaty with Jack would definitely put her in hell. That moment fifteen years ago when she realized that bedding her had been life-changing for her, but just fun for Jack? And there was a lot of fun out there in the big wide world and he was moving on? That moment had nearly crushed her. She’d been convinced he was the man for her, that all her years of girlish yearning hadn’t been in vain, that he’d been secretly waiting for her, just as she’d been secretly waiting for him. What had rocked her world had been a great roll in the hay for him and she watched miserably as he took her dorm roommate out a week later. She’d cried herself to sleep for months.
    So. Been there, done that. Not going there, ever again.
Focus.
    She had, potentially, the story of a lifetime sitting at her dining table, looking like an ex con, scruffy and rough, with explosive knowledge in his shorn head. There was no bigger story than the Washington Massacre and Jack had unknown information. She could ride this story for weeks. It could bring
Area 8
to an entirely different level, make it more a newsmagazine than a political blog.
    This was important, so she needed to pay attention.
    But oh, God. The man himself was such a distraction. Summer was used to bringing total focus to bear when it came to her job. Being thrown off-course by a source of information was new to her. But how could she focus when this big man sitting across from her was so fascinating?
    He shared features with the Jack she’d known. His eyes were still that amazing ocean blue, the nose still straight, mouth beautifully defined. But everything else about Jack the golden boy was gone. Those blue eyes were bloodshot, the flesh beneath bruised-looking. Though he was much heavier than when he was young—and it seemed to be all muscle—his cheeks were gaunt hollows, as if he’d recently lost a lot of weight. That thick mass of sun streaked hair—often