Chapter Twenty-Three
I couldn’t place the exact feeling hammering in my chest. The prospect of speaking to Tom was never particularly pleasant.
He had a way about him—that way being invoking anger and annoyance.
Speaking to him was like walking through a minefield of lies and manipulation.
He could teach a master class on gaslighting.
Oh, wait, he did.
But that wasn’t what had my pulse thumping. It was Mason, the way he’d reminded me that I was almost done. He’d meant to calm my nerves. However, his reminder had done the opposite. This was it. One phone call to Tom, and it’d be over. I’d have no reason to stay here.
I wasn’t naive. I knew that just because we’d slept together didn’t mean anything had changed.
We were two ships passing in the night or whatever that dumb idiom was. We’d crossed paths. We’d shared a few nights. I’d given him my virginity. He’d broken a personal promise to himself. I’d waxed poetic about Stevie Nicks. Nothing more.
Then why did my heart feel like it was breaking?
The call connecting pulled my derailed thoughts back to my current problem—Tom.
“Yes,” Tom answered, sounding wide awake, which made me wonder where in the world he was.
Not that it mattered, but I found it interesting he never answered the phone sounding groggy. Did they teach that skill at the Farm, or was Tom a vampire and never slept? He’d sucked all the life out of others over the years, so I was going with the latter.
“I have your location.” I cut straight to it.
There was no sense in drawing this out. Not only because I didn’t make it a habit of speaking to Tom longer than necessary, but if my heart was going to be torn from my chest, it was better to make it quick so I could break down later in private.
“Good.”
My situation was far from good. I quickly rattled off the information he’d hired me to find.
Now it was done.
All over.
I wondered how long it would take Mason to pack.
Did Pete already have a flight scheduled to take them back to California?
Was Fallon itching to get back to whatever it was that Fallon did when he wasn’t helping the CIA shut down sex-slave auctions?
Would the others be mad they’d wasted a trip if Tom actually came through and dispatched a Ground Branch team?
“I need you to attend the party.”
Tom’s order banged around in my head, making it pound to the same beat as the drumming of my heart.
“That wasn’t the mission,” I reminded him.
“The mission is always fluid.” His neutral, relaxed tone pissed me off.
My gaze snagged on Mason’s angry face as I replied, “I’m not attending—”
“You are, Calista, and you know why. This will be two birds—you take out my target and you’ll have access to yours.”
I locked down the slew of obscene names ready to spill out of my mouth. Unfortunately, I couldn’t block out the three sets of male eyes staring at me in censure. I’d never mentioned I had a target. And the other two men in the room were now also laser focused on me, which made me twitchy.
“Listen to me carefully, Tom. I am not attending. Your team can take out your target, and if they can’t, call in one of your other mercs. I don’t care what you do, but it won’t be me.”
“The team’s too far out. I need you to go in.”
Bullshit. Bull-fucking-shit. He’d once again lied. There was no team. He’d always intended for me to attend the party.
I glanced at Pete. The hard set of his jaw said it all—he was furious. And relieved he’d brought his team to Dubai.
There was no way I could attend the party after last night. My cover wouldn’t hold.
Not that I’d explain my reasons to Tom, nor would I tell him Pete would now be going in to rescue the women and give him the chance to manipulate the situation.
“I’m not going to the auction,” I declared. “If you don’t have a team close, I suggest you start calling around.”
Before I could disconnect the call, Tom blew my world apart.
“I’m delivering Jason Anderson to you on a silver platter.”
“Who’s Jason Anderson?” Mason interjected.
“Mason Hughes,” Tom drawled. “Calista didn’t explain?”
Motherfucking dick canoe.
Piercing green eyes fixed me in place. The unbridled accusation almost made me flinch.
“Explain what?”
“There’s nothing to explain,” I warned. “And, Tom, I was going to wait until after your mission to talk to you, but with this bullshit, I’m thinking now’s the perfect time to tell you I quit.”
“Tell me, Calista, how does one quit doing what you do?”
Was that a threat?
“I don’t know, you tell me. Do I need to email you my resignation, or will verbal notice suffice?”
“You’re smarter than this.”
No, I wasn’t. This morning was proof of that, when I lay awake in Mason’s arms, wishing I could wake up next to him every morning, wishing that was my life—Mason and peace.
But neither of those would ever be mine.
Even after I walked out of my old life, I would never be walking into his.
My world would never be perfect. I’d never get even a little bit of what I wanted.
“Don’t ever call me again. I’m out. If you come after me, I’ll come out of retirement. And warning, before you think to fuck with me, remember you’re a good teacher, Tom, and I never forgot a lesson. I’m all for mutual destruction—and you taught me that too.”
I stabbed the screen of my phone and refused to look up. I knew what I’d find, and I wasn’t ready to deal with it yet.
Jack and Catarina walked into the kitchen hand in hand. Jack took in the room and asked, “What’s going on?”
Mason ignored Jack and launched right in. “Who’s Jason Anderson?”
“No one.”
“No one?” he echoed. “The same no one from last night or a different no one?”
Why did the damn man have to be so smart? I was backed into a corner with no move. My best play was to stay silent. He didn’t need my help puzzling out conclusions.
Unfortunately, Fallon had something to say. “Jason Anderson was at the Sky View bar last night.”
“How do you know that?” My question was yanked painfully from my chest.
“I had the security footage pulled,” Mason told me.
Indignation had me in its firm grasp. Fury was familiar, it felt good, like a warm blanket wrapped around me on a cold night. Rage, I could work with. I knew what to do with these feelings. I knew how to control them and use them to keep myself safe.
What I didn’t know how to deal with was the feeling of my heart shriveling with the knowledge that Mason had gone behind my back.
“Why would you do that?”
“Because I knew you were lying to me.” His cold tone should’ve been a warning. Yet it fueled my outrage.
“I didn’t lie to you, Mason. Not everything is your fucking business.
” I shoved back, the legs of my chair sliding over the marble floor.
When I was on my feet, I slammed my palms on the table, giving myself that small outburst. Not that it made me feel any better.
“You know what your problem is? You mistake transparency with lying. You’re not entitled to everyone’s thoughts.
You don’t have the right to demand truths someone doesn’t want to give.
But I bet it makes it easier for you to sit there in your judgment of me, like I did you wrong when it was you who crossed the line and invaded my privacy.
“And let’s hark back—it was you who inserted yourself into this situation. Even if you came here thinking I contacted you, I told you the truth, and it was your choice to stay here. Then you forced that decision on me. I didn’t invite you into my life and offer you my secrets.”
Okay, so that last part was a big fat lie. I’d done more than invite him into my life, I’d invited him into my heart. And just like Atlanta, he’d betrayed me and gone behind my back.
My phone vibrated on the table. Atlanta’s name appeared on the screen, like I’d conjured her up by merely thinking about her.
Fuck my life.
I snatched up the phone, debated walking it to the sink, dropping it in, and turning on the garbage disposal.
Until I could secure a new phone, I didn’t have that option available to me.
I also couldn’t decline the call, in case Tom had already put a kill packet out on me and that was why Atlanta was calling.
Reluctantly, I answered and put the phone to my ear. “Hey.”
“What the hell is going on?”
Shit. Tom was wasting no time. I had to get out of the UAE, especially since Tom would have a team close for cleanup after his target was taken out at the auction.
A chill washed over me. He wouldn’t send Atlanta to take me out, would he?
Uncaring I had an audience, I asked, “Is he sending you in?”
“Is who sending me where?”
Her tone hinted at confusion, but Atlanta was a skilled mercenary.
“Calista,” Mason growled.
I didn’t have time to deal with Mason and his anger or with pussyfooting around with the truth. The more I could get Atlanta to talk, the better chance I had at detecting a lie.
“Tom. It would make sense, him sending you to take me out. You’d know my plays before I made them.”
There was five seconds of silence. Five seconds was a long time for someone with Atlanta’s cleverness. She’d have a ready lie for every question. She’d taught me the art of anticipating your target’s moves. She’d also know I wouldn’t lead with feigning stupidity. I’d go with a direct approach.
“Why would Tom send anyone to take you out? You’re his prized possession.”
Yes, that’s all I was, a possession. Tom Washington’s personal assassin. His favorite toy, yet somehow still expendable.
“If you don’t know, then why are you calling me?”
“We’ll come back to that, but only because what I have is time sensitive. Are you with your team now?”
My team.