A Regular Expert

As Arabelle drove, her eyes flicked to the rearview mirror every few seconds, tracking the headlights of a car that had been following them for blocks. Her jaw tightened, her grip firm on the steering wheel. The fact they were following was something to be assumed. But they were not even trying to hide it? That was dangerous.

"Someone's following us," she murmured in steadily.

Rafe turned slightly, his sharp gaze locking on the black sedan two cars back. "I know. Could be security—protocol if I leave with a woman. I informed them." She shot him a glance and he raised his hands," I know there could be a mole but if I disappear without informing, they will know for sure that I am suspicious. For now, they are not too sure if I'm drugged or not.