by Pam Godwin
“Information gathering.”
“Like what?” I imagine him stealing access codes or military secrets, but that’s Hollywood shit.
“When the U.S. sends in the tip of the spear to some beach or undisclosed location, who do you think provides the information to the SEALs on where to land their ships or parachutes?”
“You?” The air whooshes from my lungs.
“It’s a trite example, but yes. Sometimes we feed them the intelligence on where to drop and who to strike.”
“The eyes and ears in the shadows,” Trace murmurs.
My imagination runs wild as I picture Trace sitting in a spartan control room, talking to Cole on high-tech communication devices. Of course, Cole would be dressed head to toe in black, maybe some black paint on his face and weapons concealed beneath his clothes as he runs across dangerous terrain in the dead of night. In the distance, bombs explode and bad guys die.
I shake my head. “It’s nothing like what I’m imagining, is it?”
“It’s not like the movies.” He tucks my hair behind my ear, letting his touch linger on my neck.
My breath falters, and I lean away. “Did you do this undercover work behind enemy lines?”
He lowers his hand and stares across the room, his eyes losing focus. “The last mission embedded me deep within the enemy’s ranks.”
When he doesn’t continue, I sneak a peek at Trace. His gaze is stark and fixed on the folder of papers.
Whatever happened on Cole’s mission put into effect a series of events that changed the course of our lives. If Cole returned when he was supposed to, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with Trace. I’d be happily married to Cole and oblivious. Maybe I would’ve met Trace down the line, but I wouldn’t have seen him as anything other than Cole’s best friend.
There would’ve been no Trace and me.
“When I was planted inside the inner circle of the target,” Cole says quietly, “I used an assumed identity for the purposes of gaining trust and information. Nine months into the operation, my cover was blown.”
“How?” My stomach turns to ice.
“I’ll get to that.” He clasps his hands together between his knees. “When the leak occurred, I had to sever connections and find a place to hole up. I was running and hiding from the target I infiltrated, as well as the person who ratted me out. I couldn’t contact you or Trace. Didn’t know who was watching me. I couldn’t risk anyone learning my true identity, where I lived, and who was important to me until the threat was neutralized.”
“But someone learned you had a girlfriend.” The bloody images of the dead man in my house flash through my head.
“Yes. That someone was one of our own, an operative like myself.” Cole clenches his hands. “The traitor was the woman in the photos.”
The naked woman in the photos didn’t just blow Cole’s cock. She blew his cover. She is the reason he disappeared for four years. An angry wave of heat flushes through me as my mind swims to fit the pieces together.
“The day those pictures were delivered, you said the woman was a defector.” My legs bounce with the urge to pace, but I remain on the couch, wedged between Cole and Trace. “Was she with you on the last mission?”
“Yes.” Cole scrubs a hand over the back of his head. “We were assigned together often, because we worked well together.”
Given the variety of sexual positions in the photos, they fucked well together, too.
“You went on that mission…” My lungs slam together, choking my voice. “You left me, knowing you’d spend a year with a woman you had sex with?”
“I didn’t have a choice!” Cole launches from the couch. “They say jump, and I fucking jump. That’s how it works. I don’t choose the missions or the team I’m working with.”
I look to Trace for validation.
“It’s true.” Trace glowers back at me, his tone firm yet soft. “When I talked to him before he left, he was upset about being paired with her.”
“I knew she’d be a problem.” Cole paces through the room.
“Because you were involved?” I ask, resigned.
“We were never involved. When we were on assignments for months at a time, she scratched an itch. That’s all it was.”
“I have a feeling it was more than an itch to her.” I drag my hands through my hair, emotionally drained. “What’s her name?”
“It’s classified.”
“Did she make a move on you during the last mission?”
“Yes, and I turned her down.” He pauses beside the coffee table, his face lined with frustration. “She doesn’t like to be denied, but I made damn sure she understood I wasn’t interested.”
“Did you tell her about me? Is that why she sought revenge and sent the photos? She was jealous?”
“I didn’t tell anyone about you.” He lowers onto the couch beside me and stares at his hands.
I don’t care about their history together. He has history with countless women. What freaks me out is this badass, secret-agent woman targeted me.
As the silence creeps by, I try to recall everything Cole and Trace said that day in the penthouse. Then I remember a comment that doesn’t add up.
“The day I received the photos…” I turn to Trace. “Cole referred to this woman as a defector, and you said, That was the mission? like you were surprised. What did that mean?”
“When I saw the photos,” Trace says, “I immediately recognized her. I used to work with her, too.” He lifts his gaze to Cole and grimaces. “I used to sleep with her.”
“Yes, you did.” Cole laughs, as if it’s a private joke between them.
“You both fucked her?” My eyes widen. “Is this a common thing for you guys? Sharing lovers?”
“No. Just her.” Cole shrugs. “There are very few women in our profession, and guys like us don’t trust easily, especially during an undercover operation. She was one of us.”
“And she scratched an itch.” My insides tighten. “Did you…do her together? At the same time?”
Cole makes a face. “Hell no.”
I didn’t think they were the double-teaming type. “So you just passed her back and forth?”
“I know where you’re going with this, Danni.” Cole shifts to look me directly in the eyes. “She is not you. Trace and I worked with her, had sex with her on occasion, and didn’t give a fuck who else she was banging. Don’t you dare compare a meaningless fling to what’s going on here.” He motions at the three of us. “It’s not even in the same universe.”
I want to argue there’s nothing going on here, but that would be total bullshit.
“Moving back on topic…” Trace straightens beside me. “When I saw the woman in the photos, I knew she was the one who sent the envelope. Cole confirmed she was a defector, which clued me in on the purpose of his last mission. It isn’t uncommon for him to go undercover to root out the source of a leak of classified information.”
“In this case, the information was leaked to an enemy nation state.” Cole clenches his teeth. “And the source of that leak turned out to be her.”
“Hang on.” My head pounds as I try to keep up. “You and this woman went undercover to find a traitor, and she was the traitor all along?”
“Yes,” Cole hisses on a sharp breath. “By the time I caught on, she was already gone. Like I said, it was a goat fuck operation from the start. But Danni, you need to understand my handler was the only person who knew about you. I never mentioned you, not to her or anyone. So when I severed contact with you, I felt confident about your safety.”
“How did you figure out she was a traitor?”
“Espionage is my job, baby. But it was also her job, and she was good at it. She knew I would catch her, and when I did, she was armed to protect herself.”
“With a weapon?”
“With information. She hacked into my personal files at the agency, found you listed as my emergency contact, and learned everything she could about you.” He
drops his head in his hands, his expression creased with tension. “I fucked up. She was ambitious and power hungry and manipulative, and I trusted her. All those years, I should’ve been scrutinizing her every move.”
“She passed the same rigorous investigation as the rest of us.” Trace regards him, voice gentle. “It wasn’t your fault. She fooled everyone.”
“You say that, but you know damn well I failed.”
“You didn’t.” Trace releases a sigh. “You’re phenomenal at your job. The best. In the end, you saw what no one else did and brought her in.”
I hold still, breathless, devouring the interaction. It’s the most amicable conversation I’ve ever witnessed between them, and it spreads warmth around my heart.
Trace shifts his focus to me. “Cole didn’t know she found out about you. He was off the grid, hunting her under the assumption that no one knew you existed. Meanwhile, she had your house wired with surveillance equipment, inside and out. That’s when she sent the hitman and had the whole thing recorded on the cameras.”
Shock strangles my windpipe. There were people in my house more than once? Where was I when the cameras were installed?
“She didn’t know I was watching over you.” Trace scowls. “And since I lost contact with Cole, I didn’t know the circumstances around the threat. I just knew someone found out about you and they wanted you dead.”
“Jesus.” I slump against the back of the couch.
“When I finally caught her, she was ready for me.” Cole grips my hand and laces our fingers together on my lap. “I’ll never forget when she held up her phone and flashed the live video of that assassin walking into your house. I fucking lost it.”
My insides shrivel with horror. “But Trace stopped him.”
“I didn’t know that,” Cole says. “I didn’t know where Trace was, if he was watching, or if you were home. She said she would call off the hitman, if I let her go.”
I tense. “She could’ve been lying.”
“Not about that.” Trace catches my gaze, his expression cold. “She turned her back on her country to make some money. But she wouldn’t have betrayed the honor code among us.”
“He’s right.” Cole works his jaw, the movement vibrating with resentment. “I had a split-second decision to make. I could let her kill me and save your life. Or I could kill her and guarantee your death.”
Talk about impossible choices. My chest hurts for him.
“I went with the third option.” He strokes a thumb across my knuckles, his eyes dark and murky. “I initiated a struggle that made it look like I was trying to get away. As intended, it put enough space between us to force a gun fight. I had the obscurity of nightfall on my side, and there was a bridge with a sizable river beneath.” He looks at me expectantly.
“You jumped?”
“I let her back me onto the edge of the bridge, knowing she’d shoot me like the soldier she was. Face to face. In the chest.”
My heart stops, and my gaze darts to the front of his shirt.
“Bullet-resistant protective clothing. High-tech stuff.” He presses a hand against his sternum. “The bullet broke the skin. Fractured a couple ribs. Left a godawful mark for months. But it didn’t enter my body.”
Holy shit. My breath leaves me, taking my voice with it.
“I hit the water.” The cords in his neck go taut. “Then I swam up river, contacted my handler, and set the ball into motion.”
“Cole Hartman had to die.” As I echo the words he said the morning he returned, everything clicks into place. “You wanted her to think you were dead. But what about everyone else? The unit you’re in? Your employers? Did they know?”
“No one knew I was alive except my handler. Since the threat was internal, even my classified records showed I was deceased. I know she was watching the agency and Trace. And you.” His face falls. “She watched you grieve.”
“You did the smartest thing you could’ve done.” Trace tilts his head, eyes on Cole. “I’m not saying that because I benefited from your absence. Your actions ensured she left Danni alone.”
“That’s why you made me believe you were dead.” My voice drops with understanding. “That’s why you didn’t come back.” I stare at Cole’s hand on my lap, aching to wrap my arms around him. “Trace said guys in your position don’t marry or have attachments. I get it now. I was a weakness.” Nausea rises, and I force my gaze to Cole. “I cost you the mission.”
“You didn’t cost me anything.” He tightens his fingers around mine. “But the leverage she had over me cost me time. I couldn’t come home until she was dead or in custody. It took me years to catch her again.”
“How did you find her?”
“I can’t say, Danni. I’ve already told you too much.”
“He has an unparalleled skill set.” Trace glances at Cole with something akin to pride in his voice. “That’s all you need to know.”
The gleam in Trace’s eyes, his words, all of it melts through me. What I wouldn’t give for them to be friends again.
“I will say…” Cole smirks. “The look on her face when she saw me years after she killed me almost made the whole thing worth it. Almost.”
I don’t condone murder of any kind, but I wish the bitch was dead. “She’s in prison now?”
“Sentenced a couple months ago. She’ll never see daylight again.”
“Why did she send the photos of Trace to me?”
Trace leans forward, pinning me with the command of his gaze. “She wanted to make sure you knew Cole’s job put your life in danger.”
“That,” Cole says, “combined with the sex pictures, was supposed to be a driving wedge between us. Her last fuck you.”
It worked. I flipped the fuck out and left him. My heart sinks with regret.
“I’m not in danger anymore?” I’m stalling, delaying the conversation I know is coming.
“You’re safe. It’s over. But…” Cole gestures between us. “We are not over.”
And there it is. I’ve been sitting between them for twenty minutes and suddenly, I feel too confined, anxious, trapped.
I surge from the couch, climb over Trace’s long legs, and pace to the wall of windows. Heat blooms beneath my skin, and I press my forehead against the cool glass.
I left Cole because he cheated.
Except he didn’t.
I left Trace because he spied on me for years, knew I was in danger, and kept it a secret.
But he did it to protect me.
I left them because they broke my trust, and now they’ve told me everything. I have nothing to hold against them. Nothing to forgive. If anything, I’m the one who should be begging for forgiveness.
“How much of what you said tonight is classified information?” I watch their reflections in the window.
“Most of it.” Trace stands and approaches my back.
“Punishable by time in prison?” My voice cracks.
“Yes.” Cole remains on the couch, reclined back and seemingly at ease.
“I hope I never get interrogated. I’m the worst liar ever.”
“It was worth the risk.” Trace reaches my side and leans a shoulder against the glass. “You wouldn’t have stayed without an explanation from us.”
“You say that as if I’ve made up my mind. But we all know I’m as decisive as a squirrel in the path of a speeding car.”
“You were pretty decisive,” Cole says, with an angry growl, “when you stepped onto that elevator and out of my life.”
Oh man, he’s sore about that. With good reason. I’ve done nothing but make stupid choices over and over since he returned. And the most important decision of all is the one I continue to avoid.
“You and Cole are unemployed.” Trace wets his lips. “I can run the casino from here. We have no distractions or priorities outside of this isolated corner of the world, nothing but the lake and woodland and sunshine until you’re ready to move forward…with one of us. What are you unsure about?”
>
A thousand things, but I can’t for the life of me remember any of them as I stare into the wintry blue of his assertive gaze. With his chin tipped down and his eyes fastened on mine, he’s poised to persuade.
I pivot, resting my back to the windows and attention on Cole. “You quit the security job?”
“It interfered with more important things.”
“Like drugging and kidnapping women?”
That’s one of the reasons I can’t stay here. What kind of person would I be if I let that behavior slide?
“What would you have done,” Trace asks, “if one of us showed up at your door and invited you on a trip to the lake.”
I would’ve looked through the peephole and not answered the door.
“It’s called free will.” I cross my arms over my chest. “You took that from me by bringing me here.”
“You hated the secrets and omissions. We rectified that and will be completely open with you going forward.” Trace wings up a brow. “If you tell me that doesn’t change anything, I’ll know you’re lying.”
It changes everything. That’s the problem. They confided in me, explained their actions, and proved that everything they’ve done was with good cause.
The decision that’s been looming over me for months returns like a cancer, harmful and un-treatable as it spreads through me, contaminating my heart and begging for a quick death.
“The decision to drug you,” Trace says, “didn’t come lightly. Had you been okay with losing me or showed any signs that you would truly be able to move on, I would’ve left you alone. I think Cole is with me on that.”
“Yeah.” Cole drops his head against the back of the couch.
“But you didn’t,” Trace says. “You stopped dancing. Stopped visiting the homeless shelter. Lost weight. Then you sold the one thing I thought you’d never let go.”
My house. Sharp pain pricks the backs of my eyes. “The only reason you know all that is because you invaded my privacy. Again.”
“I don’t regret that. Nor do I regret sedating you and bringing you here. But I am deeply sorry for the distress it caused you.”