Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
The question wasn’t whether Dakota could work with her. He was a professional—he’d work with anyone the mission required.
The question was whether he could look at her without remembering everything he’d thought they were building, without wanting it back.
She was a spy. A trained operative. Everything he’d thought he knew about her—the hotel inspector, the grieving sister, the woman who’d kissed in a way that marked his soul—was a cover story, carefully constructed and professionally maintained.
Except, was it?
I wasn’t playing you.
He didn’t know what to believe. He just knew that everything ached, right down to his mitochondria.
The Harbour Bridge was beautiful at sunset—all that steel turned to gold by the dying light, the city skyline glittering beyond, water that looked like liquid fire. Dakota stood on the patio and felt none of it.
Behind him, through the glass doors, the safe house hummed with operational activity. Ham coordinating with Secret Service. West reviewing extraction routes. Skeet confirming radio equipment. The machinery of protection, grinding toward tomorrow.
Dakota had needed air, not sure what to do with his conversation with Jay—Lynx.
He needed to wipe her other name—not even her real name, he’d guess—from his brain.
Lynx. It felt right. Sneaky, beautiful, dangerous.
Focus.
The sliding door opened behind him. “Thought I’d find you out here.” Ham moved to stand beside him at the railing, looking out at the bridge. The sunset painted his face in shades of copper and gold.
Dakota didn’t respond. Just kept watching the water, the ferries, the light slowly bleeding from the sky.
“That woman,” Ham said after a moment. “Lynx. She was the one you were traveling with.”
Not a question.
“Yes.”
“You have feelings for her.”
“We established that.”
“And now it just got complicated.”
Dakota’s mouth tightened. “I thought she was this sweet, sort-of-innocent travel inspector. Someone who evaluated hotels for a living and carried her dead sister’s Bible everywhere.
” The words came out harder than he intended.
“Instead, she’s a spy. A Black Swan operative who’s been lying to me since the moment we met. ”
Ham was quiet for a moment. The bridge lights were starting to flicker on, one by one, as twilight deepened.
“You know what she did in Bangkok.”
Dakota’s hands tightened on the railing. “I know she corrupted the takedown at the warehouse and destroyed months of intel.”
“That’s one version.” Ham turned to face him, leaning against the railing.
“Here’s another. She was deep cover—months of setup, embedded with Volkov’s network.
When everything went sideways, she had a choice: maintain her cover and let Volkov escape with everything, or blow it all up and hope the destruction was worth the sacrifice. ”
“She chose destruction.”
“She chose to stop him. And by the way, she saved Skeet’s and Chloe’s lives, more than once. So that counts.” Ham’s voice was steady. “That’s not betrayal, Dakota. That’s commitment. And it cost her her mission.” Ham met his eyes. “Maybe you should give her a chance to tell you the whole story.”
“I should have seen it coming. Should have known she was . . .”
“Was what?”
“Something other than what she said.” He couldn’t finish it. Couldn’t say playing me or using me or lying. The words stuck in his throat like broken glass.
Ham was quiet for a moment. Then, “You can’t anticipate everything. You’re good, but you’re not omniscient.” A pause. “Maybe that’s the point. Maybe you’re supposed to trust a little.”
“Who—her?”
“No. God. He’s the only one who sees it all. He’s the one who knows. And is on your side.”
Dakota just looked at him.
But weirdly, the prayer from last night rounded back to him . . . Help me see the truth, God.
“I know. Faith is scary for a guy who’s supposed to have all the answers. Scary for a guy who’s seen things go south and blames himself.”
Dakota looked away, jaw tight, something burning in his chest. “Yes,” he said finally. “Yes, it is.”
Ham was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was gentler. “The Bible says God works all things for good for those who love him and are called according to his purpose.”
“I want to think I do things for a good purpose.”
“It’s not just a good purpose. His purpose.” Ham turned to look at the bridge, the lights reflected on the dark water below. “That means committing our lives to him, even though we don’t know where we’re going. Trusting him, even in the darkness.”
“Even when I mess up?”
“He uses those moments to bring you closer to Himself. If you’ll let Him.”
Dakota stared at the water. The words landed somewhere deep, somewhere he’d been keeping locked for years.
“The reason faith is so hard,” Ham continued, “is that you think you know the best way. And you’re not sure God agrees. Sometimes He doesn’t do what you would do. But that’s man’s pride.” He paused. “You don’t like to be wrong. But you’re never wrong if you’re trusting in God for the outcome.”
Dakota let the words settle, feeling something shift in his chest that he couldn’t quite name.
Movement caught his eye through the glass doors.
Ham followed his gaze. A small smile crossed his face.
“I’ll leave you two to figure that part out.”
He clapped Dakota on the shoulder and disappeared inside, leaving the patio door open behind him.
Lynx stood there, watching him go.
And then she stepped onto the patio.
He turned away.
The bridge was fully lit now, its golden arch bright against clouds that had turned deep violet. City lights sparkled across the water. The temperature had dropped.
She’d changed clothes, wearing a sweater over her yoga pants, her hair loose around her shoulders. And weirdly, she looked different than he’d ever seen her. Not the polished hotel inspector. Not the flirtatious travel companion. Not even the sharp-eyed operative from the coffee shop.
She looked tired. Vulnerable. Real.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Just that. Two words. Simple. No deflection, no performance, no carefully constructed excuse.
Dakota sighed. “I understand. I didn’t tell you what I was doing either.”
She nodded, acknowledging the grace he was offering.
She moved to stand beside him at the railing, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke. Just watched the bridge, the water, the lights of Sydney sparkling like scattered diamonds.
“You should know,” she said finally, her voice quiet, “that you made me feel seen. I haven’t felt that way since . . . well, since Skylar died.” She paused. “But I did lie to you.”
He glanced at her. “You said—”
“Not about Skylar. But . . . about what happened before.”
Before?
Oh. The coworker she’d trusted. The one who’d betrayed her.
Dakota waited.
“His name was Ian. Dr. Ian Weber. Physicist. Brilliant. Kind. The kind of man who knew the names of all the security guards in his building and spent his lunch breaks trying to coax stray cats out of the rain.”
Dakota stayed quiet. Listening.
“I was assigned to protect him. Deep cover in Berlin—six months as Katya, a freelance translator who just happened to keep running into him at lectures and cafés.” Her voice went flat. “I was supposed to be invisible. Professional. Detached.”
“What happened?”
“We started dating. I though he had no idea who I was, and I fell in love with him.” The words came out like a confession. “Completely, stupidly in love with a man I was lying to about everything, including my own name.”
The bridge lights shimmered on the water. Somewhere below, a ferry horn echoed across the harbor.
“He asked me to go away with him. CERN—he’d been offered a position. He wanted me to come.” She finally looked at Dakota, and her eyes were bright with something she was fighting not to let fall. “For one perfect moment, I let myself imagine it. A real life. Family. Home.”
She looked away. “I thought he loved me, too. But it was never real. He used me to hack my computer, to get into the Black Swan network. And then he fed it back to the very people I was protecting him from.” She shook her head.
“And I never saw it. That’s the part I can’t forgive.
I . . .” She took a breath. “I caught him, confronted him and he told me the truth. And then I turned him over to the Swans and walked away. Left him sitting in a café.”
Dakota’s chest tightened, his breath caught.
“He died in a car bomb. Two days later.” Her voice was barely audible.
“It wasn’t the Swans—I checked. No, the people he’d been working for don’t leave loose ends.
The moment he was exposed, he stopped being useful—and they cleaned him up like he was nothing.
I handed him over thinking justice would handle it.
Instead I signed his death warrant and never even knew it. ”
“Jayden—”
She turned to him. “So when I tell you that getting close to me ends badly, I’m not being dramatic.
” She met his eyes. “I’m telling you what happened the last time I let someone in.
I loved him, and the whole time he was using me—and I was too happy to see it.
That’s what trusting me costs. Not because I’m dangerous.
Because I can’t tell the real thing from the lie until it’s too late. ”
The words hung between them. The bridge glowed golden against the dark sky. The water shimmered with reflected light.
“That’s why I didn’t want to tell you who I was,” she said quietly. “I didn’t want to wreck it. And then I did anyway. Because that’s what I do. I perform, and I lie, and people get hurt.”
Dakota looked at her, his chest tight. She was waiting for him to walk away.
Instead, heaven help him, he wanted to pull her into his arms. Wanted to hold her until the pain eased, until she believed she was worth more than her worst moment. His hands ached with the effort of keeping them on the railing.
“Thank you for telling me,” he said quietly.
She blinked. Whatever she’d been expecting, it clearly wasn’t that.
“Thank you for listening,” she said finally.