Kennedy was surprised by the genuine resentment she felt. She’d been working on this for more than a year. Her analysis and her instincts told her Rapp was just the man they were looking for, yet here she was being dismissed like some complete neophyte who had no understanding of what they were trying to accomplish. Kennedy slowly climbed the porch steps and squared off with Hurley.

The veteran backed up a bit, obviously uncomfortable with someone whom he wouldn’t dare lay a hand on entering his personal space. “I got a lot of work to take care of this afternoon, Irene, so the sooner you get back in the car, the better off we’ll all be.”

Kennedy squared her shoulders and in a tight voice asked, “Uncle Stan, have I ever disrespected you?”

“That’s not what this is—”

“It’s exactly what it’s about. What have I done to you that has caused you to hold me in such low regard?” She inched closer.

Hurley’s feet began to shuffle. His face twisted into a scowl. “You know I think the world of you.”

“Then why do you treat me as if I’m still a teenager?”

“I don’t think you’re incompetent.”

“You just think I should stick to analysis and leave the recruiting and training to you.”

He cleared his throat and said, “I think that’s a fair statement.”

Kennedy put her hands on her hips and stuck out her chin. “Do me a favor and take off your sunglasses.”

The request caught Hurley off guard. “Why?”

“Because I know your Achilles’ heel, and I want to see your womanizing eyes when I tell you what someone should have told you a long time ago.”

Hurley cracked a smile in an attempt to brush her off, but she told him again to take his glasses off. Hurley reluctantly did so.

“I respect you,” Kennedy said, “in fact I might trust you more with my life than anyone in this world. You are unquestionably the best man to whip these operatives into shape … but there’s one problem.”