And despite the foul taste it had left in her mouth, she’d lied to Martin about how she’d sustained her injuries, telling him she’d gotten them in the wreck.
Martin, who was so kind and concerned. Martin, who gave her the opposite of mixed signals. Martin, who was smart and funny and handsome and…not Hew.
That was the kicker, wasn’t it? He wasn’t Hew.
And although she tried not to compare the two men, she couldn’t help herself. Martin’s charm was polished and polite. His confidence was borne of personal achievement and financial success—and having a face that belonged on billboards. Whereas Hew? Hew was raw edges and callused hands. He had the kind of confidence that came from feeling more at home in a cockpit or a mechanic’s bay than in a boardroom.
Where Martin dazzled with easy conversation, Hew spoke in a few words that somehow carried more weight than entire TED Talks. Martin’s smile impressed her. Hew’s smile unraveled her.
Damnit, why hadn’t she told Martin that her heart belonged to someone else?
She could have brought it up when he took her hand and held it beneath the bar. She could have confessed it when he softly cupped her cheek to stare deep into her eyes. She could have blurted it out when he pulled up beside the curb next to the front gate and leaned over to kiss her lips.
But she hadn’t.
Lord, help her; she hadn’t because it had been nice to sit next to a handsome man and know how he felt about her. Nice to feel wanted because she was her, Sabrina Greenlee, a strong, independent, successful woman, and not because she was some damsel in distress who needed saving. Or worse, some sort of final obligation.
She hadn’t told him. But she should have. She would the next time she saw him because it was only fair. Only right.
Sighing heavily, she turned for the kitchen. But she stopped in her tracks when she heard voices floating down from the second floor.
“—made it back with no one the wiser?—”
“—bodies won’t be found?—”
“—no record of our involvement?—”
The Knights were in the War Room doing a sit-rep. Considering she’d been at the heart of their recent troubles, she should go up and chime in where appropriate.
But first? Water.
The gin and tonic she’d nursed at the pub should have been refreshing. But all it had done was leave a bitter taste in her mouth and make her stomach feel queasy.
Or maybe that’s just my mixed-up, messed-up emotions, she admitted dolefully as she resumed her journey toward the kitchen.
Half the can of lime sparkling water was gone when she stepped onto the second-floor landing. And she hid a silent burp behind her fist when she realized it wasn’t only the Black Knights discussing the events of the past two days.
A laptop sat open at the end of the table, facing Boss. Its display threw a cold glow over his stony expression.
On the screen, Sabrina could see Madam President, looking as stately and poised as ever in a blue blazer and a brown bob that could’ve passed for a bicycle helmet. Beside her was Leonard Meadows. He looked like he’d just bitten into something sour.
“How did you find the abductors?” Meadows was asking.
Boss answered smoothly, “Ozzie matched CCTV footage of the van that followed Sabrina out of town to images we later captured at an old bottling plant. The Knights were ready to drop in the second Sabrina’s abductors called to reveal the location of the drop.”
Given what the Knights had learned from Black Widow regarding Bishop and his position in government, they'd decided not to inform Madam President or her chief of staff about Kerberos's involvement or Black Widow's capture.
The Knights no longer knew whom to trust. And perhaps that was the most disturbing thing to come from the events of the last two days.
Sabrina skirted around the table, careful to avoid the laptop camera’s line of sight because she’d never been comfortable talking to two of the most important people in the country. And now that one of them might actually be a traitor? She was even less inclined to show her face.
She dropped into the first open seat, next to Fisher. He greeted her with a downward jerk of his chin, and she nodded back. Then she slid her gaze around the table, looking for…
There you are, you sexy, confusing, infuriating thing, she thought when her eyes landed on Hew’s profile.
She willed him to look at her. To give her some clue about what he was thinking. What he was feeling. What he wanted to do going forward.
He didn’t. He just stared straight ahead, expression unreadable.
