Squeezing my arm, she asks, “How do you think he’d prefer to go at it?”
I give myself about thirty seconds to imagine it, and I know immediately how it’d go. “Slow and sensual. Deep and meaningful. He’d rather make love than fuck.”
She runs her hand over my heart. “Sounds like you might not hate the idea of that.”
I scoff. “You read what he wrote.”
“Yeah, and that’s what has me confused. He didn’t sayfuck off; he didn’t saynever see me again. He said let’s not dothisagain. Maybe if he knew that hate-fucking wasn’t the only option, he’d be open to the possibility.”
I sit up and turn to my friend, wiping my eyes. “Did you just say theFword two times in a row?”
She sniffs imperiously. “Seemed appropriate.”
“Yeah, well, if he’d be open to other possibilities… I might not hate it.”
Evie’s smile brightens when she hears this, and she pulls me into a big hug. “You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that. It’s just… you really deserve this, Roly. You deserve something more than a hookup.”
I scrunch my nose to prevent more tears. “I’m not sure about that, but… even if I don’t deserve a long-term relationship, I have to admit that I’m starting to want one.”
The encouraging smile falters on Evie’s lips. “Look, I know there’s a lot you can’t tell me, but youdodeserve it. I mean, if you hadn’t stayed with Nick when he was injured, he would’ve died. That would’ve just killed Scout and her family, and Elijah would’ve never met the man of his dreams. And even if you weren’t some kind of big damn hero, you’re an amazing person and deserve this kind of happiness. And I swear, I’ll do whatever I can as your friend to make you believe it, okay?”
I nod, the words stuck in my throat. I doubt she’d feel the same if she knew all of the details. A calendar notification goes off on her phone, and we stand to leave. I walk her to the door but stay behind, needing time to process. Honestly, I’m a mess of emotions. I didn’t just wake up this morning mildly hungover; I woke with an aching need to have Heath surround me, almost as if I’d become addicted to his brand of security, so his message hurt. Really hurt.
Little shivs, prying up the corners.
It sends me down a bit of a rabbit trail, thinking about how I’d hurt him, and more devastatingly, how I’d hurt Asadi with the things I’d done. It feels like cheating to forgive myself, as though someone from my past might rise from the shadows and tell me that I have no business forgiving myself for doing the unforgivable.
As I’m wiping away a few stray tears from my eyes, preparing to go back into the gym, I hear the squeaking sound of the key in the lock.
“Hey, Roly, we were looking for you,” Jake says, walking to the door followed by a super-built black man with a cane, about our age. It’s his build that catches my eye, and suddenly he’s very,veryfamiliar to me, and not in a way that I’m finding pleasant. I don’t think Jake would ever be friends with an asshole, so I am not sure what my reaction to this guy is all about. Jake continues. “This is my friend, DB.”
“Oh, that’s okay, I was just going to—” I bite off my words when I finally recognize him. I’d tried very hard to forget the details of the incident that changed my life, but there’s no forgetting the man who interrogated me over the course of two days while I was still physically and mentally recovering from my time in hell. “You’re DeShaun Blaylock,” I state, instantly wary. He’d been fair, but he hadn’t been nice. Definitely not my favorite person.
DB gives me a warm handshake, and there is respect in his eyes. He looks like a pretty serious man, with a pretty serious workout routine, not someone to be taken lightly. Considering he knows more about what happened during those days than anyone else in my life, his respect is oddly comforting to me.
He and Jake give each other a meaningful look, and DB nods his head. Jake takes a big breath and explains, “DB and I have been looking for you because there is an update on the status of your kidnapping.”
I look between him and Jake, unaware of their connection, careful not to say anything that is classified. “How much does Jake know?”
Jake’s smile is kind, like maybe he knows that the news isn’t going to be great for me. “DB debriefed you, and it was our team who worked at the intelligence on your kidnapping and recovery.”
About a zillion things click firmly into place, and it leaves me breathless. “So, you know what happened? Do you know where Asadi ended up? He was the one who provided evidence against his father, the diplomat, right?”
DB fields the question in his deep, rich voice. “They’ve declassified some of his work, and I can confirm that he provided actionable intelligence.”
I sink back down onto the couch, tucking my feet under me, hugging a pillow tight to my chest.
DB continues. “It was your interview that led us to believe that he’d be a useful asset, and in the end, he was one of our most prolific. By the time we took his father down, we were able to take down every bit of the organization that was ambushing our joint task forces. We also discovered that the ambushes were diversionary tactics to allow them to smuggle drugs, guns, and humans into and out of the country.”
A few more things click into place, and my mouth gets stuck open until Jake prods me to continue. I pull myself together and blurt, “Everett, the bone frog tattoo. You were the spook that gave his team all of that intelligence. You were the one feeding him the data.”
Jake’s nose scrunches at the nickname—spooks never call themselves spooks—then flicks his eyes over to DB, who again nods. Jake answers, “Me and Everett go way back. And a lot of the data that I gave to him came from Asadi. Frankly, he was suspicious of the intelligence that led us to Paris, and we should have listened to him.”
The sound of Asadi’s name on Jake’s lips almost knocks the wind out of me. “And Paris is where it went all to hell foryou, right?” I confirm, my voice squeaky from lack of oxygen.
Jake and DB sit down across for me, and they both bow their heads, sharing the same haunted look. We sit in silence for a bit longer, and then a realization settles like ugly tar in my chest. “Wait, what do you mean,declassified?”
DB cocks his head and looks at me with curiosity. “I’m surprised that you weren’t told.”
