He slid the lock-breaking device into the slot on 1036. And waited.
The lights cycled.
The red light on the door flashed.
No one came to investigate his presence.
If they were lying in wait for him, he could use the door, force it back, then shut it. Engage the lock. Make them come at him one at a time in the hall where he’d have an advantage. In simple hand-to-hand combat, Wei had a serious advantage over even his bulkier opponents. A hotel room provided flat, hard surfaces and unexpected, improvised weapons.
The light flashed green.
Wei pushed the door open and stepped over the threshold, listening, waiting, watching the darkness.
No one was home.
“Who are you, little fly?” he whispered into the stillness.
Wei let the door close behind him and inhaled. Soap, masculine. Perfume. Two people.
A man and a woman.
Wei flipped on the lights and stepped farther into the room.
It was time to hunt the hunters.
…
Rand fought the urge to tug at the collar of his shirt or the cuffs. He’d spent so long slumming it he’d almost forgotten what real clothes felt like. How starched pants fit. But it was worth it.
“Sorry, there was a line in the ladies’ room.”
He turned, his tongue sticking to the top of his mouth once more. Damn, she was a sight.
“What? Is something wrong?” She frowned at him.
“No, nothing, sorry.” He cleared his throat and caught the eye of the maître d’. “They’re ready to seat us.”
“Were you able to get the table?”
“No.”
He grimaced and led Sarah forward with a hand on her back, one finger stroking bare skin. He’d picked the dress because it fit in with the Customers Who Bought This Also Liked… section of the website. He hadn’t really spent time doing more than picking out a size that was more or less right.
Man, he’d picked well.
The restaurant was nearly full. The maître d’ seated them at a small, out of the way table, almost on the other side of the dining room from the Chinese delegation.
He took the chair facing their targets while Sara could only face him.
They were left to peruse the menus on their own.
“Well, this was a bust.” Sarah sighed and leaned back in her chair. She’d swept her long, dark hair up into some sort of fancy twist.
“Not necessarily.”
“What can we possibly hope to learn sitting here eating— Oh my God. We can’t eat here. This is crazy. Did you see what they charge for—”
“Sarah.” He tugged the menu from her hands and set it aside. “Don’t worry about it. Here.” He took her hands in his and waited her out until she looked him in the eye. He smiled. “Hi.”
“I’m freaking out and you want to be cute?” Her brows lifted and she stared at him.
“No, I want you to take a deep breath—”
“I am being calm.”
“Good. Now, how do you like your steak cooked?”
Sarah rolled her eyes and sat back—or tried to. He kept her hands captured in his. “Medium rare,” she replied finally.
“Good.” He lifted her hands to his lips, grazing her knuckles.
Her expression softened, and heat flickered in her eyes.
She felt it still, that force pushing them together.
He’d ignored it growing up, but he was losing sight of why he should now. Yeah, Matt likely hated him for leaving like he did, even if he didn’t blame Rand for the accident. But they didn’t know if they were going to survive today, much less this week. Why deny the cosmic pull between them? The way he saw it, turning a blind eye made this a hell of a lot more contentious than being up front with each other. At least then they both knew what the stakes were.
“What are we doing?” She set her elbows on the table and tilted her head to the side. Direct. To the point.
“I’m not sure.” It was the truth, but not the whole truth.
“Should we stop this?”
“Should we?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why should we? Sarah, where you’re concerned, I’ll always be biased. There’s no way around that. The way I see it, we can either ignore what’s happening, or we can accept it. Use it.”
“What’s happening?” Her throat flexed.
“Come on, Sarah. You know what I’m talking about.”
She glanced down at the table, her cheeks pink.
He’d been painfully honest with her earlier, but she hadn’t really heard him. The shock of learning about Charlie’s death was too sudden. Too sharp. Yeah, he was jealous of a guy pushing daisies, but Rand had her now. He wasn’t inclined to let her go. Ever.
Thinking like that could get them killed.
Shit.
He sat back, letting her hand slip from his.
Somewhere along the line, he’d lost his ability to be objective. His focus was slipping. Because Sarah was here. Because when it came to her…she’d always been forbidden fruit.
He scrubbed his hand across his face, letting his gaze wander the restaurant.
They couldn’t change the path they were on. He couldn’t roll back time and tell himself to not take what Sarah offered, because he wasn’t that good of a man. But they could come to an understanding. This time, he could at least tell her that when the job was over, when they’d resolved this crisis, he was leaving.
He had a job to do, the same way she did.
“Did you know it was me you were writing those notes to?” They hadn’t discussed that, but he’d guessed at it. Now, he wanted to know.
“I had an idea that it was you. The handwriting was similar enough. Plus, I knew someone named Rand was out there. It…just made sense between what your parents wouldn’t say, you always being gone, too many coincidences.”
“Why, after all this time, would you want to talk to me?” That was still the thing that shocked him. He’d abandoned her, turned his back on her, cut off all ties, and yet…it hadn’t changed things. Oh, sure, she’d been pissed and hurt, but under it all, she cared for him. And he was going to leave her again when it was all over.
She lifted her shoulders and glanced away.
“You were such a big part of my life. I guess…I just wanted to hear from you. In any way I could.” Sarah found a spot to stare at, her eyes lost in memory.
Rand wanted to push the table aside, pull her into his lap, kiss her, show her just what was taking form inside of him. Living the way he did, it made him both careful and wild. He couldn’t let an opportunity to seize the moment pass. If he did, he’d regret it for the rest of his life. Like he did that moment he’d walked out of the hospital determined to remove himself from their lives, that it was better this way.
He couldn’t, though. He was a different person now. He was a covert operative for the United States. Men like him didn’t get second chances. They didn’t get nice, normal lives.
Yes, he was deluding himself in these hours, thinking he could have something with Sarah that lasted longer than this op. Letting himself live the fantasy made their cover story ring true. But he couldn’t perpetuate this lie that they could have more than what they were now. His premature confession would have to go back into the vault.
Loving someone was a risk. A luxury. And it was time to wake up to that reality. If he screwed up, if he let himself wallow in her presence, he’d get them both killed.
The waiter finally came by to take their orders and deliver their drinks.
Rand had to be honest with her. He couldn’t lie, but he couldn’t lead her on. They had to come to…an arrangement.
“What’s going on over there?” Sarah’s voice broke into his swirling thoughts.
“Not a lot. They were just served.”
“So they’ll be done before we are.”
“Probably.” He focused on her face.
They descended into silenc
e. She mindlessly moved the utensils around, arranging them just so. He rolled the situation around in his head, finding no other alternative than the obvious.
This was simply how things were.
The waiter arrived with their dinner about the same time as he gave up fighting with the reality of his world.
“Listen, I want to talk about…us.” He braced his forearms on the table.
Sarah closed her lips around her fork, eyes wide.
He really hadn’t meant to wait until she had food in her mouth, but it was a convenient way to allow him to power through this.
“I will always…care for you. Which is why, I think we need to be clear about our priorities. When this job is over, I’m likely going back into the field. So are you. Given our history, I don’t want you to be surprised when I have to go again. What we are here, now, it’s both organic—chemistry. And it’s the cards we were handed.”
Sarah chewed slowly, her dark gaze showing nothing of her thoughts.
He searched around for more words to soften the blow, to gentle his words. She kept chewing, hardly blinking. He tapped his fingers on his thigh, wishing she’d hurry up and say…something.
Sarah swallowed and reached for her glass, sipping the water as though he wasn’t waiting on pins and needles for her protest.
“Is that it?” she asked.
“Well…yeah.”
“Did you want to add anything else?”
“No… I just wanted to be clear with you.”
“Well, thanks.”
“‘Thanks’? That’s it?”
“What am I supposed to say, Rand? When I said as much to you, that there wasn’t an us—because my priority was seeing this through—you got your boxers in a bunch. You stormed out on me and treated me like…”
“That was different.”
“How was that different? I was trying to be honest with you and you wouldn’t listen. Now you say the same thing to me, like…you expect me to flip the table at you?”
“Look, what I’m saying is that—there’s something between us, but I can’t commit to more than here and now.”
Sarah tipped her head back and groaned. “Because that’s so different from what I said. Awesome. Great. Thanks for clearing that up.”
“That’s not what you—”
“Rand. Shut. Up.” She dropped her fork onto the plate with a clatter. “I get it. You want to screw me, but you can’t commit. Communicated loud and clear.”
“That’s not—”
“How is that different?” She leaned forward, staring at him.
He glared back, grinding his teeth together.
What he felt went deeper than wanting to fuck. He cared for her, but caring for her meant leaving. Doing his job. Being the tool he’d been shaped into. If she couldn’t understand that, well, maybe it was better if they left things this way.
Chapter Eleven
Sarah stalked into the elevator and crossed her arms over her chest.
Rand took up a spot on the other side, a group of four between them.
Good.
She needed the space. To get away from his stupid, boneheaded man-brain.
He had some nerve to try to school her like that. How many times had he taken her words, twisted them, then used what she’d been trying to say as his original idea? He could be so damn irritating. Why had she ever thought sleeping with him was a good idea?
God, she just wanted to wrap her hands around his neck and squeeze. She’d said almost the exact same thing to him and he’d gone into a man-sized temper tantrum over it. He didn’t listen to her, not really, and that was what drove her up the wall. She could talk—scream—and he’d never really hear her.
Why was he so infuriating?
She couldn’t wait to be free of him. Of the way he crawled under her skin to poke and prod at her. He couldn’t go with the flow, he couldn’t be the shoulder for her to lean on or watch her back, no. He had to pick at her. Constantly.
It was like they were kids again, always fighting. Only now, they didn’t have Mom and Dad there to tell them to go to their corners.
The elevator dinged on their floor. Rand got off first, holding the door for her.
She almost wanted to skip returning to the honeymoon suite and go straight to the surveillance room just to get a breather from him. But if she walked around the floor dressed in an evening gown, she’d stick out a lot more than she would in her staff get-up.
No, she had to change first. Then maybe they could take shifts watching and sleeping.
That, at least, was a reasonable plan. Her nap earlier hadn’t done nearly as much as she’d needed, and it wasn’t like she’d had a full night’s rest since Seoul. Whatever painkillers Rand had given her had also given her the most peaceful rest in a decade.
She curled her hands into fists and imagined planting her fist in his face. She wouldn’t, but she wanted to.
“Sarah. Sarah, wait up.”
Rand’s footsteps thudded softly on the carpet as he quickstepped to keep up with her. His hand closed around her elbow.
“Please don’t touch me.” She pulled her arm away.
“Hey.” He swung around, planting himself directly in her way.
“What?” She crossed her arms over her chest in an effort to give him less to grab.
“What’s your problem?”
“What’s my problem?” She dropped her hands. Was he serious? “You. You’re my problem.” She sidestepped, but he moved with her.
“Me? I was just being honest with you and now you’re bringing up the past.”
“Really? Let me replay this back.” She pressed her fingers to her temples and squinted with one eye. “Ah yes, you said—let’s be fuck buddies for a few days, but that’s it. Things are getting complicated and I’m going to go away when this is all over, so let’s not get too serious here.”
“I did not—”
“And this morning I said the same thing, I was very clear that there was no us to discuss right now. We have enough going on. Instead of agreeing, you got butt-hurt and stormed out of my room. Now you want to come to the same conclusion I did? Do you ever listen to me? Ever? How ridiculous is it that we are having this discussion in a hallway?”
His lips pressed together in a thin, white line.
He was pissed. Yeah, well, try being me, attempting a conversation with you and your boneheaded man-brain.
This was why she liked working with Wishing Well.
Sure, during some months, it was like the whole organization was swimming in estrogen, but when it came to working toward a single cause, they were an impressive machine fueled on determination and willpower. Every voice was heard. All opinions and suggestions taken into account. She never had to fight against men who thought their way was better, there was no dividing the organizational mindset. There were no other Rands or Matts in her life.
“Come on.” He turned and stalked the last eight feet or so to their suite door. At least the hall was empty and they weren’t being watched.
Of course, who wasn’t to say that the Chinese had hacked the system just like they had? How long until the delegation knew to watch them?
God, this whole thing was a mess, and here they were fighting about themselves.
Rand slid the key into the door. The red light flashed. He muttered words, waited a moment then slid the card in again. Once more, it flashed red.
She rolled her eyes and slid her hand into her bra. It wasn’t her favorite place to keep stuff, but without pockets or a clutch, it was all she had.
“Move. Let me try.” She nudged him.
“You think the key will magically work for you?”
“No, I think I have a key that hasn’t been demagnetized. Move your ass.” She jabbed him in the side.
He pivoted to face her but didn’t give her any more room to work with.
Ugh.
She wanted to knee him in the nuts.
She should have known when he suggested food
he had something he wanted to say to her. That was what he did. Wait until she had a mouthful to talk about something serious.
Bastard.
To get to the key card slot, she had to reach around him.
“I never said let’s be fuck buddies.”
“You might as well have.” She slid the card into the reader and glared up at him.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“What you meant is exactly what I said this morning, and you didn’t want to hear it then.” She stared into his eyes, searching the for answers.
What’d changed? What was he thinking? Why the jump from I want there to be an us, to no strings attached?
He’d been so angry when she’d wanted to wait. To not make any decisions about what they were to each other now. Because he’d wanted more from her. But something had happened. Learning about Charlie’s death? That was the only thing that stuck out. They hadn’t had any communication with Hector, and she hadn’t tried to get Irene on the phone.
Was he scared that she’d be next? Was this the hospital all over again? Did he have some sort of twisted guilt eating him up?
His eyes…so stormy, sort of gray-blue-green.
He’d had that same look when he’d said he was going to the vending machine…and never came back.
This wasn’t about them at all. He’d deliberately picked a fight with her to…distract her. To set the groundwork for leaving. Again. He knew she’d be pissed off at hearing her words turned around on their head and spewed back at her. For all the years they’d been apart, he still knew what made her tick, how to wind her up and let her go.
Rand didn’t get to just walk out of her life again without a fight. He couldn’t make her angry with him to appease his guilt about splitting again.
“Door’s unlocked.” She felt more than heard his voice, the brush of air, his body against her arm.
She let go of the key card and wrapped her arms around his waist.
He couldn’t make her be angry, and damn him, she wouldn’t hold onto the anger if he was bound and determined to use it against her.
Given the opportunity, she’d still strangle the life out of him, but she wasn’t going to argue. She wasn’t going to let him win that way. Yes, she understood that he had to go, that he had a job to do, but she was a big girl now. She got it. He didn’t have to burn bridges and go down in a blaze of guilt.
Spy Games (Tarnished Heroes) Page 14