I pretend not to notice and shrug. “Accounting isn’t my thing.”
He finally turns his gaze on me. “No. I suspect your skill set is much less black and white.”
I’m not sure what he means by that, but before I can ask, he stands, taking my empty plate and depositing it on the cafe counter. He thanks the baristas, who smile at him, before leading me back to the office.
I ask only one question before finishing up the gala invitations. “What’s your brother's name?”
“Parker Mills.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “The famous Calvin Klein underwear model?”
Owen smirks from across the room. “That’s the one.”
Chapter 6
“Ihave a name, Dec. Peyton Radd,” I say over the phone later that night, already curled up in the large, four-poster bed. Which is far too large for one person. “It was on a sticky note I found next to Owen’s keyboard.”
“Have you looked it up?” he asks, though I’m sure he knows I have.
“Google came up with nothing.”
“Send it to Ella. Have her search the CIA database.”
“Already did. She said she’d get back to me in the morning.”
There’s a long pause on the other end of the phone. I can’t tell if he’s distracted or debating what to say to me.
“Dec?” I ask.
“Are you doing ok? I’ve been worried sick about you. I’ve been going over the mission reports from your last assignment. It was… I just want to know you’re ok. That you’re taking care of yourself.” His concern is genuine. His friendship is sincere, and suddenly I’m on the verge of tears.
I take a moment to compose myself.
“Nova, tell me you’re talking to someone about it. Tell me you aren’t alone in this.”
I sniffle, hoping he doesn’t hear it through the phone. “I haven’t had time to find anyone to talk to.”
“We have counselors on site, Nova.”
I cut him off before he can continue. “I know. I know. I’ll make an appointment. I think I’m still in shock. I’ve been trying to write the report for the trial, but my memory has holes. I’m completely unsure of the order of events. I thought time would help me piece it back together.”
“We’re only missing the information from when everything went to shit until you met Gray at the rendezvous spot.”
That’s the problem, though. My memory of those few minutes are hazy and filled with screams, death, and my own pain and blood.
I realize I haven’t said anything when Declan whispers, “I will do absolutely anything to clear your name, Nova. Anything at all. You need to tell me how I can help.”
The thing is: I believe him. Declan has always been that partner who would do anything for me—even take a bullet. The thought that he might lose his job by helping me keep mine has my throat tightening.
“I’ll send over my report when I’m done with it. Maybe there is something in it you can help with.”
Declan takes a deep breath. “Deal. But in the meantime, promise me you’ll talk to someone.”
“I promise.”
Another long pause has me fiddling with the end of the sheets, weaving them between my fingers.
“Goodnight, Nova. Please don’t take out all that anger on your target. We don’t need more investigations,” Declan says, trying, as always, to lighten the mood.
