Anyone could find her here, and my father wouldn’t hesitate to punish an FBI agent for trespassing at his home.
I grabbed her, moving faster than I could think. Glad that she had a hood on, preventing her face from being fully visible with the nearest camera’s angle, I worried that she’d still be recorded. That her presence would still be noted.
I'd dreamed of seeing her again. I'd hoped to hear from her—somehow. Every day of the last six months had been torture, torture I’d initiated. To touch her, to see her, felt like a gift I never thought I’d receive.
“Sadie?” I hissed at her once I had her on the porch.
She scowled, keeping her expression so stern as she let me haul her inside.
She washere. With me. Within my reach. The shock of it all sobered me up and stunned me stupid.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
Just like old times, she narrowed her eyes. Shoving at me, she wrenched out of my hold and glowered at me with that stubborn sass I wanted to never forget. Her spirit and that bold tenacity to stay strong and fight back were what drew me to her.
“What the fuck is going on?”
I failed to get over her for half of a year, and now that she’d spontaneously appeared, I didn’t care for the confusion and concern that had me so worried and frantic to hide her. This porch didn’t have many cameras. If we whispered, no guards would hear us. Regardless, I knew the seriousness of this moment.
Shewasthe enemy.
My father would be livid that an agent snuck in close.
Urging her to follow my lead as I tried to sneak her toward a closet, just in case one of the few guards on the premises could see us, I racked my brain for an explanation.
“What the fuck is going on?” I demanded once we were in the closet.
She cringed, batting away coats on hangers to face me directly. As she fought for room, I shoved the hangers over in one smoothpush, knocking it all to the floor. Before I lowered my hand, I pushed her hood back to see her clearly.
“You can’t be here,” I added, as if that wasn’t clear enough.
“Hello to you, too,” she bit out.
I gritted my teeth, torn between kissing her until we passed out and shaking her.
Fuck, I’d missed her.
But I didn’t want her dead. That was half of the reason I’d left her in the Caribbean. If she stuck with me, someone would’ve tried to stop that and kill her sooner.
“Sadie. What the fuck are you doing here?” I shook my head, staring at those almost turquoise eyes I’d yearned to see again. That sassy frown that haunted my dreams.
Before she could part those plump lips and explain, my brain caught up.
I was wasting time asking her why she was here.
Iknewwhy.
She’d only ever had a reason to seek me out because she was supposed to. She was expected to catch me and bring me in for whatever the FBI wanted. To arrest me and hold me responsible for all the murders. To question me about my father’s plans.
She hadn’t come to seeme, not from missing me.
“This is your next-best plan to capture me? Show up at my father’s house?” I huffed an incredulous laugh. “I suppose your agency was getting fed up with me not showing at airports as often and making it easier for you, huh?”
Like that, it made sense. I hadn’t flown commercially, and in fact, for several jobs, I drove instead for the domestic ones.
I didn’t think it was possible for her to look madder, but she was downright fuming with that pinched expression. The one that suggested she wanted to strangle something.
“Myagency?” She smirked. “Not anymore.”
