“Bullet-resistant protective clothing. High-tech stuff.” He presses a hand against his sternum. “The bullet broke the skin. Fractured a couple ribs. Left a godawful mark for months. But it didn’t enter my body.”
Holy shit. My breath leaves me, taking my voice with it.
“I hit the water.” The cords in his neck go taut. “Then I swam up river, contacted my handler, and set the ball into motion.”
“Cole Hartman had to die.” As I echo the words he said the morning he returned, everything clicks into place. “You wanted her to think you were dead. But what about everyone else? The unit you’re in? Your employers? Did they know?”
“No one knew I was alive except my handler. Since the threat was internal, even my classified records showed I was deceased. I know she was watching the agency and Trace. And you.” His face falls. “She watched you grieve.”
“You did the smartest thing you could’ve done.” Trace tilts his head, eyes on Cole. “I’m not saying that because I benefited from your absence. Your actions ensured she left Danni alone.”
“That’s why you made me believe you were dead.” My voice drops with understanding. “That’s why you didn’t come back.” I stare at Cole’s hand on my lap, aching to wrap my arms around him. “Trace said guys in your position don’t marry or have attachments. I get it now. I was a weakness.” Nausea rises, and I force my gaze to Cole. “I cost you the mission.”
“You didn’t cost me anything.” He tightens his fingers around mine. “But the leverage she had over me cost me time. I couldn’t come home until she was dead or in custody. It took me years to catch her again.”
“How did you find her?”
“I can’t say, Danni. I’ve already told you too much.”
“He has an unparalleled skill set.” Trace glances at Cole with something akin to pride in his voice. “That’s all you need to know.”
The gleam in Trace’s eyes, his words, all of it melts through me. What I wouldn’t give for them to be friends again.
“I will say…” Cole smirks. “The look on her face when she saw me years after she killed me almost made the whole thing worth it. Almost.”
I don’t condone murder of any kind, but I wish the bitch was dead. “She’s in prison now?”
“Sentenced a couple months ago. She’ll never see daylight again.”
“Why did she send the photos of Trace to me?”
Trace leans forward, pinning me with the command of his gaze. “She wanted to make sure you knew Cole’s job put your life in danger.”
“That,” Cole says, “combined with the sex pictures, was supposed to be a driving wedge between us. Her last fuck you.”
It worked. I flipped the fuck out and left him. My heart sinks with regret.
“I’m not in danger anymore?” I’m stalling, delaying the conversation I know is coming.
“You’re safe. It’s over. But…” Cole gestures between us. “We are not over.”
And there it is. I’ve been sitting between them for twenty minutes and suddenly, I feel too confined, anxious, trapped.
I surge from the couch, climb over Trace’s long legs, and pace to the wall of windows. Heat blooms beneath my skin, and I press my forehead against the cool glass.
I left Cole because he cheated.
Except he didn’t.
I left Trace because he spied on me for years, knew I was in danger, and kept it a secret.
But he did it to protect me.
I left them because they broke my trust, and now they’ve told me everything. I have nothing to hold against them. Nothing to forgive. If anything, I’m the one who should be begging for forgiveness.
“How much of what you said tonight is classified information?” I watch their reflections in the window.
“Most of it.” Trace stands and approaches my back.
“Punishable by time in prison?” My voice cracks.
“Yes.” Cole remains on the couch, reclined back and seemingly at ease.
“I hope I never get interrogated. I’m the worst liar ever.”
“It was worth the risk.” Trace reaches my side and leans a shoulder against the glass. “You wouldn’t have stayed without an explanation from us.”
“You say that as if I’ve made up my mind. But we all know I’m as decisive as a squirrel in the path of a speeding car.”
“You were pretty decisive,” Cole says, with an angry growl, “when you stepped onto that elevator and out of my life.”
Oh man, he’s sore about that. With good reason. I’ve done nothing but make stupid choices over and over since he returned. And the most important decision of all is the one I continue to avoid.
“You and Cole are unemployed.” Trace wets his lips. “I can run the casino from here. We have no distractions or priorities outside of this isolated corner of the world, nothing but the lake and woodland and sunshine until you’re ready to move forward…with one of us. What are you unsure about?”
A thousand things, but I can’t for the life of me remember any of them as I stare into the wintry blue of his assertive gaze. With his chin tipped down and his eyes fastened on mine, he’s poised to persuade.
I pivot, resting my back to the windows and attention on Cole. “You quit the security job?”
“It interfered with more important things.”
“Like drugging and kidnapping women?”
That’s one of the reasons I can’t stay here. What kind of person would I be if I let that behavior slide?
“What would you have done,” Trace asks, “if one of us showed up at your door and invited you on a trip to the lake.”
I would’ve looked through the peephole and not answered the door.
“It’s called free will.” I cross my arms over my chest. “You took that from me by bringing me here.”
“You hated the secrets and omissions. We rectified that and will be completely open with you going forward.” Trace wings up a brow. “If you tell me that doesn’t change anything, I’ll know you’re lying.”
It changes everything. That’s the problem. They confided in me, explained their actions, and proved that everything they’ve done was with good cause.
The decision that’s been looming over me for months returns like a cancer, harmful and un-treatable as it spreads through me, contaminating my heart and begging for a quick death.
“The decision to drug you,” Trace says, “didn’t come lightly. Had you been okay with losing me or showed any signs that you would truly be able to move on, I would’ve left you alone. I think Cole is with me on that.”
“Yeah.” Cole drops his head against the back of the couch.
“But you didn’t,” Trace says. “You stopped dancing. Stopped visiting the homeless shelter. Lost weight. Then you sold the one thing I thought you’d never let go.”
My house. Sharp pain pricks the backs of my eyes. “The only reason you know all that is because you invaded my privacy. Again.”
“I don’t regret that. Nor do I regret sedating you and bringing you here. But I am deeply sorry for the distress it caused you.”
My chest hiccups with a choppy inhale.
“You’re unhappy, Danni.” Cole rises from the couch and prowls toward me. “And you’ll be even more miserable in Florida.”
“What makes you think I won’t be miserable here?”
“I’m not saying it won’t be hard.” He stops beside me and rests his hands on his hips. “If you had to choose between us right now, could you?”