by J. Kenner
“Me,” she said. “Maybe you should just believe me.”
He wanted to laugh. “Because you’ve given me so much cause for trust.”
She drew in a breath. “I don’t blame you for that, but you need to know that I always loved you. That was never an act. Never part of my training.”
He forced his face to stay expressionless as he leaned back in the chair, his feet extended out in front of him. “Wouldn’t that be nice to believe?”
“Believe what you want, but the truth is that we both got hurt.”
He barked out a laugh. “Trust me, sugar. I’m not feeling too much sympathy for you at the moment.”
“I get that, too. But have you thought about it from my side? It’s been almost five years, Winston. You thought I was dead, and that’s horrible. And I’m so sorry I put you through that. But I was dead, at least as far as you knew.”
She turned her head away, but not before he saw the tear snake down her cheek.
“Death happens all the time,” she continued softly. “People go on with their lives. They heal. But me? I had to live my life knowing that you were right there, just a phone call or a drive or an airplane ride away, but I didn’t even have the right to look at you. You think what I did is horrible? So do I. You think I hurt you? I know that I did. But I hurt me too. And believe me when I say it wasn’t my choice.”
His chest had tightened painfully, but when he spoke he worked to keep the emotion out of his voice. “Sweetheart, there’s always a choice.”
“Don’t you get it? There was so much going on in Texas. Hades really was hell. You thought you saw the filth and corruption from your perspective as sheriff? You didn’t even know the half of it.”
She paused for a breath, and he had to remind himself to stay quiet. She didn’t need to know that he’d been more than a small town sheriff. Not yet. Not until he’d heard the full story. The real story.
“They liked that I got close to you because you were the sheriff and I needed an in at the county. But our marriage was never an assignment, and I never expected to fall in love with you. Believe me, I wish I hadn’t. It’s turned out to be a painful inconvenience.”
Her words lashed out at him like the flail of a whip.
She continued, her words tripping over each other. “But that wasn’t the worst of it. I was undercover. Stuck in deep in the middle of the Consortium, one of the vilest groups we’ve ever taken down, and it was run all through that little town, like it was the center of a giant wheel. Hade’s was the hub, and I was in the thick of it.”
Her eyes flashed as she stared him down. “They killed hundreds of people. You only saw some of the bodies. Some of the dirt. Just a hint at how massive that operation was.”
He stayed silent. He knew damn well the width and breadth of the Consortium.
“But we took them down, Winston.” There was pride in her voice. Pride and power and regret, too. “The work I did undercover played a huge part in that. But there was a price.”
He heard the pain in her voice, and his heart twisted. “You had to disappear.”
She nodded. “Once the Consortium was under attack in Hades, they had to clear out. Deep cover, right? So I had to go with them. But they couldn’t have some sheriff sniffing around like a dog with a bone. And you really were sniffing around. You caught that case, remember? It was a murder. And it led you into all sorts of places where you shouldn’t have been looking.”
He remembered. How could he forget?
“That case was what put you on the Consortium’s map. Before that, you were more of an irritation. They needed you distracted and off the case.”
“So they said you had to die.”
“No. They said you did.” She licked her lips. “They wanted you gone. They needed you to stop poking around. And I … I begged them to save your life. They were going to kill you. They were going to take you out into the desert and put a bullet in the back of your head.”
Tears trickled down her cheeks. “I pleaded with them to let you live. The Consortium was already wrapping up in Hades.” Her words tumbled out on top of each other. “It was getting too hot. They were moving as much of their operation out as they possibly could.”
She swallowed, then looked straight at him. “I had to do something fast. They wanted you gone or at least too distracted to pay attention. So I traded my life for yours.”
“And it was easy for you.” His voice was flat. “It was easy because you knew you’d be leaving me anyway. After all, I was only your cover while you were in town for your Hades operation.”
“No!” Her voice was full of vehemence. “No, you can’t believe that. I would never have left you. I might never have told you the truth about the organization I worked for, but I would never have left you. The only reason I did is because they were going to kill you. And I couldn’t bear the thought of you being dead, especially when I had a chance to save you.”
He didn’t know what to say. The words had the ring of truth about them. And it made sense that she thought she had to protect him from the big, bad Consortium.
After all, she’d truly believed he’d been just a small town sheriff. How could she have known that if she’d come to him they might have figured something out?
But she should have had faith. She should have believed that he had the skill or the resources to fight back. She’d owed him that, hadn’t she? They’d been married, after all. Hell, they’d been happy.
And even if everything she said was true, how dare she make that big of a decision on her own? But even if it was wrong of her to decide, had her heart truly been in the right place? Or was she just yanking his chain right now, covering up the fact that she’d been nothing but a plant? A paper doll wife who’d been assigned to watch the local sheriff?
Frustrated, he turned away from her, his mind too full, and looking at her only made thinking harder, because he didn’t want to believe their relationship had been a lie. God knows it hadn’t been an act for him. And maybe, just maybe, it hadn’t been an act for her, either. Her words—her tone—sure seemed to suggest that what they’d had in Hades was real.
Christ, he wanted to believe that. But they’d both lied to each other. Hell, their entire marriage had been built on lies, and she only knew the half of it.
But did that mean they both deserved the heartache? Maybe it did. If they hadn’t deserved it, then life really was a damned unfair place because he’d been suffering for years, and even though he knew more about her than she was telling, something told him that she’d suffered, too.
Finally, he turned back around to face her. “All right. Keep going.”
She gaped at him. “That’s all you’re going to say? No questions, no interrogation? No disbelief or arguing or asking me for details?”
“I told you to tell me your story. You’re telling me your story. Or are you telling me a story?”
“I think you know what I’m telling you is the truth.”
“So tell me the rest and let’s see if you can keep up this streak of honesty.”
She narrowed her eyes. “This really is incredibly uncomfortable. Would you please untie me? Cuff me to a chair. Make me wear the blanket and hide my clothes. Where would I go like that? But do I really have to stay here on the bed like this?”
“Yes.”
“Fine,” she snapped.
“Talk.”
Her brow rose. “Oh, I’m happy to tell you the rest of it. Tomorrow.” She yawned, so huge that it had him yawning in response. “I need to sleep now. Being in bed like this is making me so drowsy.” She yawned again, then smiled. No, correction, she smirked.
“Linda…” He underscored her name with a warning tone.
“Don’t worry, I’ll tell you the rest after I’ve slept. And eaten. I never got my meal or my glass of wine.” She smiled sweetly and batted her lashes. “Say what you will about him, but Bartlett was a much better date than you’re turning out to be.”
Despite himself, Winston laughed. On
the bed, she grinned, too. “Come on, Winston. We both know you’ve got the upper hand here. I won’t try to escape. Pinky swear.”
He fought another smile, but lost. Well, fuck it.
He took a step toward her, pulling out his pocketknife as he did. He flipped it open, saw the quick flicker on her face as she watched the blade.
“Don’t move.” He stepped closer, then eased the knife in between her skin and the zip tie. It was the long, thick kind intended for industrial use, and he’d taken to carrying at least one on every mission after he’d lost a perp once.
The release tab was broken, and the plastic so thick that it took a bit of sawing with the knife for Winston to get her free. Once he did, though, she sat up, the blanket covering her breasts. She held her wrists in her lap and winced as she rubbed the tender flesh.
He grimaced. He hadn’t intended to pull it that tight, and he regretted the red welts that now marred the soft skin of her wrists. He took one in his hand, rubbing his thumb lightly over the injury. “I’m sorry.”
She yanked her hand away, and he felt like an ass, even though he truly wasn’t the asshole here.
“I want food.”
He nodded, wishing that the touch of her skin hadn’t affected him so much—and that the way she’d yanked her arm away from him hadn’t bothered him.
He cleared his throat. “Food, right.” He lifted the handset and ordered burgers, fries, and wine from room service, his eyes never leaving her, and his free hand on the gun holstered at his hip.
“Less than fifteen minutes,” he said after he hung up.
“Do I get to keep my hands and wrists free? Range of motion? Because I don’t really want you shoving a burger in my mouth.”
He considered the question. The truth was, he didn’t doubt anything she’d said—at least not yet. But he hadn’t heard the whole story. And he knew damn well that she was dangerous. He’d seen that clearly enough on a roof in Seattle.
She was Michelle Moon now, not Linda Starr. An assassin, not his wife. He’d do well to remember that.
“Hands free. Ankles tied to the chair. And you should know I have one in the chamber.”
“You’re the boss,” she said curtly, then flashed a sweet smile. “At least for now.”
He pointed toward the bathroom. “Robe,” he said. “Let’s go.”
“Sure.” She held his eyes as she pushed the blanket aside and stood up. She was naked, and though he didn’t want it, he couldn’t deny the way his body reacted to the sight of her.
She tilted her head and flashed him a flirtatious smile. “Too bad we’re at odds,” she said. “It’s such a nice hotel room.”
“In,” he said, walking through the wide bathroom door with her, his hand on the butt of the gun, just in case.
A leather tote sat on the counter and her dress hung on one of two hooks behind the door, along with a hotel robe. She took a step toward the tote.
“No,” he said. “Put on the robe.” He pulled it down, checked the pockets, then handed it to her.
She lifted a shoulder as if to say it was worth a try, then slid her arms in. She turned to face him, the robe still open, revealing—well, revealing everything. And even though she’d been naked only moments before, somehow the subtle invitation of the open robe seemed more dangerous. On the bed, strapped down, he’d been in control.
Now, with her standing there in what seemed like a sultry invitation, it felt very much like the tables had just turned.
As if in acknowledgement, her eyes locked on his. For a moment she just stood like that, letting him see what used to be his. Letting him know what she’d be willing to trade for her freedom.
“Close the robe,” he said, his voice cold. “And tie it. You don’t have anything I’m interested in.”
“We both know that’s not true.”
Lust curled through him, followed immediately by loathing. This was the woman who had walked away from him. Who’d had the opportunity to come tell him the truth later, but never did. The woman who now killed people for a living.
She wasn’t the woman he’d known in Hades. He didn’t know who she was. And he doubted he’d ever truly find out.
He shoved the emotions down, then used his free hand to grab her by the wrist. She gasped as he yanked her toward him, so that her body was pressed against his, her head tilted back and her eyes wide with surprise and, maybe, a bit of heat. But whether it was the heat of anger or desire, he didn’t know.
For that matter, he didn’t care. Because God knew this was never going to go anywhere. How could it? Whatever trust they’d had between them, real or fake, was completely gone now. And over the years, Winston had learned more and more that the most valuable thing in the world was trust.
He bent close to her ear and whispered, “I know what you do now, remember? I know you came here to kill. You aren’t the woman I fell in love with. I don’t know you at all. So don’t think that you can flirt or play or tease your way out of this. It’s not going to happen.”
He pushed her back, studying her face. “Do you understand?”
Her eyes held a thousand questions as she studied him, but all she did was nod.
“Good. Table. Go.”
She obeyed, turning and leaving the bathroom as he followed, the gun back in his shoulder holster. She passed the bed, then paused at the small cocktail table by the balcony door. “Sit,” he ordered, and she obeyed without hesitation or comment. He should be grateful. Instead, he wondered what mischief she was planning.
As soon as she was seated, he reached in his pocket for another zip tie, but there wasn’t one. He frowned, trying to remember if the second one had fallen out when he’d attached her to the headboard. Dammit, he was off his game on this assignment. And the reason for that was standing in front of him wearing nothing but a bathrobe.
Hell. He unbuckled the belt and started to pull it off.
“Oh, sweetie, I don’t think we have time before the food gets here,” she said.
He shot her a scowl. “Hands stay on the table,” he said as he bent and attached her leg to the chair with the belt, wrapping it multiple times before fastening it.
“Not on you?”
“Stop it.” His voice came out like a lash. “It’s not funny.”
She recoiled, then dipped her eyes to the tabletop. “No, you’re right. Nervous habit.”
Shit. He remembered that. She’d always made bad jokes when she was scared or nervous. “It’s okay,” he said. At least now he knew that he had her on edge. That gave him an advantage toward getting the truth.
He moved to his side of the table, then tapped the butt of the gun before sitting. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m fast on the draw. And in case you’ve forgotten, I was a damn good shot when you knew me. Trust me when I say I’ve only gotten better.”
“You always were an arrogant bastard.”
He burst out laughing. “And that’s one of the things I always enjoyed most about you. The way you always surprised me.”
She looked at him then, completely deadpan. “Well, then, I suppose you must be loving today.”
Chapter Ten
Room service was as good as its word, and they had food and wine within minutes. He kept her silverware and poured her wine, then sat back to enjoy his fries.
“What else do you want to know?” she asked, after taking a bite of the burger. “This is really good. Thank you.”
He nodded, a bit surprised. “You’re welcome. And, honestly, all I really want is the truth.” He watched her face as he spoke. The dilation of her pupils. The way she didn’t even blink.
“I’ve told you the truth,” she said.
“Fine.” He leaned back with a smile. “Convince me.”
She shook her head, looking truly baffled. “How?”
“Details would be nice.”
“I told you. I shouldn’t have, but I did. I worked for the NSC and I was undercover with The Consortium.”
“That’s strike one,
sugar. You want to be tied spread-eagled on that bed with no blanket and a lot of questions?”
Her brow rose and her voice was flirtatious as she asked, “Is that a promise or a threat?”
His entire body hardened from the image she’d just painted in his mind. Damn him, he didn’t want that. Or her. Not anymore. Not knowing what he knew about who she really was.
Slowly, he let his gaze drift over her, ending at her eyes, certain that his own were hard and cold. “Do not play with me, Linda. I promise you this isn’t a game.”
When she swallowed, he knew he’d won that round. Her jaw tightened, and he imagined it was taking all her effort not to snap back a retort. He’d do it, and she had to know that. He’d never been a man for empty threats.
“I’ve already told you enough details to get me in deep shit. I worked for a division of the NSC. You don’t believe me, call and ask. They’ll tell you I went on leave after my husband died.” She practically snarled the words.
“So you worked for the Consortium, and your cover was that you were a clerk in the mayor’s offices. But really, you were a deep cover NSC operative the whole time.”
“Finally. I was starting to think I’d have to paint you a picture.”
“Go on. Explain to me why I didn’t know any of this back then.”
“There are rules, Winston. You worked in law enforcement. Sometimes there are secrets, and they’re sacrosanct for a reason. Because if you spill a secret, someone can get killed.” She met his gaze, held it. “Someone you love.”
“Don’t talk to me about love,” he snapped, but he didn’t look away. Damn it all, even now he wanted to get lost in her eyes. Wanted to brush his thumb over her bottom lip and remember its softness one last time.
He wanted to touch her—and he hated himself for craving what he couldn’t have. More important, what he shouldn’t want. She was a liar, an assassin, and a traitor. To the country and to every sense of decency he’d once thought they’d shared.
“There are people out there,” she continued. “People who trade on power, who trade on pain. People who work in the underbelly. People who do things like torch a car and kill an innocent woman without a second thought. Back then, you didn’t even question that it happened to me because you knew that it could. And so much worse.”
