Ben stilled at the mention of Ronoff. “He wouldn’t happen to be related to Alexi Ronoff, would he?”
“Alexi is his son. And, yes, I saw his name on last night’s guest list. It’s too strong of a coincidence if you ask me.” Secretary Lyle eyed him carefully. “Make sure your search takes place off the grid. Until we know who’s out there selling classified intel, I don’t want to share my theories with the rest of the intelligence community.”
“Understood.” The familiar adrenaline rush that always preceded the hunt surged through him. Solving puzzles was his jam. Working to hide his trail would only make the hunt sweeter. And he had just the place to carry out his mission. “I’ll get right on this.”
He shoved the micro card back into his pocket before tucking the folder beneath his arm and heading for the door.
“Agent Segar,” she called after him. “Keep me in the loop.”
As he made his way out of the secretary’s office, his fingers were already itching to get to a keyboard. The assignment would certainly take his mind off solving the mystery of Quinn Darby’s reappearance. Except for the fact that she was somehow involved with Alexi Ronoff. That particular piece of intel fired up a burning sensation deep within his gut.
Adjusting his sunglasses, he strolled out into the bright sunshine and hailed a cab. He gave the driver the address for the marina where his sailboat was docked. No sense wasting time heading home to change. He had clothes aboard the Seas the Day and more at his secure cyber getaway he’d dubbed the Think Tank. The sooner he solved this puzzle, the better. He told himself his eagerness was because he wanted to solve a murder. Not because we wanted to have an excuse to delve deeper into the mystery of Quinn Darby.
Chapter Three
Quinn sat in the shaded corner of the marina’s deck, sipping her iced coffee. Hiding behind her sunglasses, she pretended to watch the gulls dive-bomb the trash cans along the small dock surrounding the restaurant when, in fact, her gaze was riveted several yards farther in the distance. Standing aboard an impressive sailboat docked in one of the slips closest to the marina, a sandy-haired, shirtless man was vigorously polishing the chrome railing. The bronzed muscles in his back bunched and flexed seductively with every pass of the cloth.
She remembered those capable hands. Their warmth and their innate strength. So much like the careful, confident boy they belonged to. Except, as she’d discovered last night, he wasn’t a boy any longer. Ben Segar was all grown up. She sucked on a piece of ice to try to cool her body’s reaction to the sexy adult version of her high school lab partner.
It wasn’t working.
“Ah, I see you’ve spotted one of Watertown’s natural wonders.”
The waitress’s words startled Quinn.
“We probably should charge extra for the view when Ben’s in town,” the other woman remarked as she placed a crab salad on the table in front of Quinn. The waitress’s gaze lingered on Ben a bit longer than necessary before a soft sigh escaped her lips. “If only I was twenty years younger.”
“Does he come here often?”
Quinn was both relieved and surprised when she’d received the intel Ben had gone directly from the Department of Homeland to his sailboat still wearing his tuxedo. She’d been even more surprised to find out the destination of his morning sail was his hometown, Watertown, Maryland.
“His family owns this marina,” the waitress replied, not telling Quinn anything she didn’t already know. “He lives in DC, but he sails over for the weekend pretty regularly. Dotes on his mom. Kind of sweet, really.” She then drifted off to wait on another table.
Quinn wasn’t sure why she expected Ben to have left Watertown in his rearview mirror years ago. Or that he would be living in some exotic locale running his own billion-dollar company by now. Except he’d been a gifted kid with a brilliant mind. Unlike her, whose path had been set since the cradle, the world held endless possibilities for him.
Instead, he was a computer analyst for the Secret Service. Not even a gun-toting agent. Well respected, but a bit tame for the boy who’d once dreamed of being the next Bill Gates.
Her feelings were jumbled about being back in the quaint bayside town after all this time. Not much had changed, a fact for which she was glad. Watertown was always her safe haven even if only in her mind. The past years spent shifting from identity to identity had gone from exhilarating to isolating. The oddity of her existence becoming more pronounced the longer she remained in the game. During those dark times, her mind often drifted back to the folksy town where she would fantasize about what might have been. The memory of the water and the slower pace always calmed her down.
“Everything okay with your salad?” the waitress asked.
“It’s wonderful,” Quinn lied. Her thoughts were so consumed with the past, she’d yet to take a bite. She stabbed some crab with her fork.
The waitress laughed. “Ben has that effect on women. Just a word of warning though, he’s a confirmed bachelor. He frequently entertains”—she made air quotes with her fingers—“women aboard his boat. But no one has been able to get a commitment out of him. Rumor has it he’s still nursing a broken heart from the one that got away.”
The other woman’s words had Quinn nearly choking on her lunch. She reached for her water glass and gulped down its contents despite her throat constricting with something feeling a lot like guilt. No doubt he’d been hurt when she didn’t show up for their senior prom. Especially after what they’d shared. But the knowledge that yet another woman had damaged his heart made her own ache. If she couldn’t have a happily ever after of her own, she wanted sweet, honorable Ben to have one.
Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to do something she rarely permitted, to drift back thirteen years. She kept the memories of her days spent exploring the bay aboard Ben’s Sunfish sailboat buried deep. They always painfully reminded her of what might have been. She and her parents lived in Watertown for only a brief period. But they were the best ten months of Quinn’s then teenage life. Popular and pretty, she was quickly accepted among the historic town’s elite—the entitled kids whose parents held well connected appointments and jobs in DC, commuting out to the trendy little hamlet on the Chesapeake Bay.
Ben hadn’t been a part of her circle of popular, wealthy friends. He was a townie whose family didn’t belong to the nearby Annapolis Yacht Club. Instead, he was the president of the robotics club, a star of the cross-country team, and class valedictorian.
They’d been assigned as lab partners in AP chemistry. Quinn had no business taking the class, but her mother had a bad case of “keeping up with the Joneses” despite her only child’s less than stellar science capabilities. Appearances mattered to Quinn’s parents. Particularly in the role they were playing in Watertown. And if the other kids were taking advanced classes, so too would their daughter.
Ben realized Quinn was a fish out of water that first day. But he’d never patronized or embarrassed her. Instead, he quietly encouraged her as he easily carried them both through the rigorous coursework. Before long, she was relying on the boy with the quicksilver grin and soulful eyes to help her with calculus. He was relaxed and easy to be around. She found she preferred his company over the handsy boys with fat wallets and fast cars.