Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Well, crap.
He was alone. Standing at the counter making coffee. Muscles straining beneath a black tee as he moved. It was like watching a symphony. Perfectly orchestrated. Everything in sync. The man was breathtaking.
And Ellis was in deep shit. Her own people hunting her aside, just looking at Brett stole her breath.
Made it hard to think clearly. Focus. And she really needed to focus.
To figure out why she’d been targeted. How to dig herself out, because if she didn’t come up with a solution, it wasn’t just her life on the line.
All of them. Brett’s team—men she’d once vowed to protect.
And now, she might be the reason they died.
“Hey.”
She startled, reeling backwards—nearly tumbling onto her ass as her balance shifted. Brett lunged for her and somehow managed to cover the several feet between them before she hit the floor. It shouldn’t have been possible, but there she was. Wrapped in his arms, her legs trembling.
Not from falling. It was him. Holding her. His scent filling her senses, his heartbeat thrumming in time with hers. Faster than usual but strong. Like him.
She was in too deep, already. Four days. That’s all it had taken to strip her of her resolve. The defenses she’d built over the past five years. The ones that had closed her off emotionally—the only way she’d been able to function with all the losses.
His loss.
Friends she could live without. Brett…
She swallowed then eased back. He stared down at her, blue eyes searching hers. She wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he gave her a fairly convincing fake smile then let her go, turning back toward the counter.
“You should be resting. The others won’t be back for a while. We can discuss the situation, then. But if you keep pushing, you’re going to give yourself that concussion I mentioned yesterday.”
“I’ve done nothing but sleep since I got here.”
“Getting shot tends to take it out of you.” He glanced back at her over his shoulder. “Being tortured, even more so.”
There it was. The dig at her profession. The one she hadn’t talked about, yet. But, she knew there wasn’t a chance in hell she was getting around telling him at least some of what he wanted to know.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Obviously, there’s stuff we need to discuss beyond my sudden reappearance, so…” She took a deep breath. Prayed this wasn’t a colossal mistake. “If there’s something you want to say, Brett, maybe without everyone else listening, just say it.”
He clenched his jaw then nodded, spinning to face her. “Are you CIA?” He snorted. “Of course, you are. It’s the only answer that makes sense, but… I want to hear you say it.”
That look. Cold. Hard. Lethal. He wasn’t hiding his emotions, now, and she couldn’t stop the involuntary step backwards. The instinct to run.
Brett arched a brow.
She forced herself to stand her ground. Meet his gaze. She’d thought he’d wait until his buddies were back to bring this up, but apparently everything was interconnected. Not that it should surprise her. It always came back to this. To the Agency. “I work for the State Department—”
“I don’t want the programmed answer, El. I want the truth. After all we shared, I think you owe me that much.”
Another attempt at swallowing, this one no better than the last. Christ, he looked pissed. Pissed and lost and so damn beautiful it made her chest hurt. Right over where she’d locked away her heart. Where it had shriveled and died then turned to dust.
Guilt gnawed at her. She still didn’t know what her boss had told Brett—how the man had ended the relationship, but looking at Brett, rerunning his choice of words, she knew he wasn’t just asking about her vocation. He wanted it all.
“Okay. Yes.”
His mouth quirked. “Yes. What.”
“I work for the CIA.”
“Analyst or field operative?”
“If I tell you that, your life—”
“Is already at risk. We burned that damn bridge the moment I opened the door. So stop tiptoeing around the questions and just answer me.”
He hadn’t raised his voice, but the tone. The expression on his face. For a moment, he’d looked like Cannon always had. A man with nothing to lose.
“Fine. I’m a field operative, though, my official title is protective agent.”
“Field…” He couldn’t seem to get the rest out, swallowing so hard she heard it still standing a few feet away. He shook his head, glancing down at the counter as he braced his elbows on the surface. “Christ.”
Ellis looked at the floor, studied the wooden planks until the silence threatened to undo her. She walked over to the counter, sliding into the barstool beside him. “Brett…”
“Was any of it real?”
“Excuse me?”
“Us. The service. You being MI.” He turned, gaze centered on hers. Eyes fierce. “Was it all a lie? Part of your cover? Was I a convenient way to gather intel?”
He exhaled then straightened, slowly walking over to the gas fireplace on the other side of the room. Back stiff. Hands fisted at his side. Even when he placed one against the mantle, he didn’t unclench his fingers, using his fist to absently tap the brick.
Seeing him like that…
She wrapped her arms around her stomach, silently vowing not to puke. Not to react. But the harder she tried to stay calm, the less controlled she felt.
She rose, closing half the distance between them. “Brett.”
“I told Cannon there wasn’t any way you could have hidden that from me.
That I knew you too well. That we were too much in love.
Too connected. But, seeing you, now…” He looked back at her.
“I’ll still help you. Regardless. That’s who I am.
What my team’s about, but…I need to know.
Not for Cannon or this mission. For me. No more lies. ”
“You think I was CIA? This whole time? That I played you?”
“Please. We all worked with spooks. We knew the score. What they were capable of.”
“So, that’s what I am to you, now? Just another spook?”
“Answer the question.”
“I shouldn’t have to. But since you obviously never really knew me, I will.” Anger replaced some of the hurt, boiling the pain into red-hot rage. She stalked her way closer, getting right up into his face. “No, Brett. I wasn’t CIA back then. I wasn’t lying, and I didn’t fucking gather intel.”
“Then why? Why leave for this?”
“Because I didn’t have a choice.”
“Everyone has a choice, sweetheart.”
“Not when you uncover an unsanctioned CIA unit because you hacked a portion of the National Clandestine Service’s Special Activities Division. Got a list of several deep cover operatives and what they were doing. When you do that, you get a one-way ticket to hell.”
She spun, but he snagged her elbow, turning her back to face him. “What the hell are you talking about?”
She jerked her arm free. “What does it matter? You’ve already got your version of the truth locked away inside your head.
Anything I say is just going to be more of this elaborate lie I’m supposedly part of.
Some grand scheme to screw you over.” She stepped into his space, again, jabbing one finger against his chest. “Well, guess what, baby? You weren’t the only one who got screwed.
And, at least, you didn’t lose everything.
You still had your life. Your team. Your precious brotherhood.
So, if you’re looking for pity, cry to someone who has any sympathy left to give. ”
She marched away, getting to the doorway to his room before he was on her.
Spinning her and trapping her between him and the wall.
Pressing his body hard against hers. She felt every inch.
Every rough breath, every clench of his muscles as he stared down at her.
Nostrils flaring. Skin taut and slashed with red.
“I’m done playing games. I want to know why you left with nothing more than that damn note. Why you didn’t have the guts to tell me to fuck off to my face. And I want to know, now.”
God, being held like that, his deadly expression focused on her, shouldn’t make her breathless.
Wish he’d take both her arms and lock them over her head, then claim her mouth with his.
But denying it aroused the hell out of her was pointless.
He was pressed hard against her. He was bound to feel her nipples poking him in the chest. How her heart had kicked up the moment he’d cornered her.
See how her pulse fluttered wildly beneath her skin.
She swallowed, damn near came when his gaze dropped to her throat then back up. “And if you don’t like what I have to say?”
“At least, I’ll know.” He inhaled, held it, then slowly let it out, grimacing as if what he was about to say would cost him. Cause physical pain. “It’s not like you’re the first person to ditch me because of my father. I just thought I deserved to hear you say it to my face.”
She blinked. Had she blacked out for a moment and missed half of the conversation? Because she didn’t have a clue what Brett meant. “Your…father?”
His lips twitched, looked like a damn wolf baring its teeth, before he pounded the wall on either side of her head then stalked off, turning to face her a few feet away.
“I get it. He’s a monster. I’m his son, but damn it, El, I’m nothing like him.
Never will be. I thought…” Another deep breath.
Another rough exhalation. “I thought you knew that. Knew me.”
“What are you talking about? Why would I care who your father is?”
“Because you obviously think I’m gonna turn out just like him.”
Ellis leaned more of her weight against the wall, praying she didn’t just collapse into a heap on the floor.
She pressed her head into the firm surface, hoping it would steady her.
God she was tired. Tired of fighting to stay strong.
To pretend she hadn’t died that night five years ago.
That she wasn’t just going through the motions because she was too stubborn to give up.
To just end it. He wasn’t going to like this part—might not believe her.