Braedon smirked. “Of course you did. What else? You were there two days—no one suspected you?”
“No. Or if they did, no one let on that they did. Connie has history with the bitch that was holding you and she provided covers for us.”
“Who’s Connie? I haven’t met her.”
Addison cocked her head. “I’m not really sure who she is, to tell you the truth. All I know is she may or may not work for the government and she has some seriously shady connections.”
“CIA?” he asked.
“She neither confirmed nor denied her affiliation,” she said.
“Where did she go? She wasn’t with you guys. Was she?”
She shook her head. “No. There was a raid on the castle immediately after we got you and Michael out. She stayed behind to coordinate that, I think.”
“And you and Devon pretended to be a couple?”
She took a large gulp of her tea and made a sound of uh-huh.
Braedon studied her for several moments, and she tried not to fidget. “And it was just pretend?”
Her heart fluttered in her chest. Wasn’t that the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question because she had no idea. They hadn’t had a chance to talk since they’d arrived in Germany. Really, since they’d left their room in the castle.
She didn’t want it to be pretend, but she also didn’t want to pour her heart out to her brother without the chance to pour it out to Devon first. Maybe not pour…maybe trickle. That way, if he didn’t feel the same, she could turn off the emotional tap and chalk it up to a good time had by all.
“Of course, it was pretend. It’s not like you can develop a relationship with a stranger in less than a week—especially under those circumstances.” Maybe she was laying it on a little thick.
“Uh-huh.”
He didn’t believe her, but he wasn’t going to push the issue. At least not right then. He’d bring it up down the road when she least expected it in order to ambush an honest answer out of her.
Stupid twin.
“So you and Devon were pretending to be a couple. How did you find me?” he asked.
Addison froze, a fry halfway to her mouth. “You don’t…?” She dropped the fry back in the container. “You don’t remember seeing me?”
His brows drew together. “When?”
“She took us down there—all of us—to see you and Michael. Apreviewof the merchandise is what she called it. You were sitting on the bed in the cell. You looked really out of it, but you stared directly at me.”
Braedon’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t remember most of it. I remember seeing the charges in the house and telling everyone to get out. I remember the explosion throwing me. I remember the heat.” He ran his fingers over his eyebrows, as if making sure they were still there. “I remember a truck and a boat, but every time my mind started to clear and I could think, they drugged me.”
She scooted her chair closer and took one of his hands in hers. He dropped his head to her shoulder, and she rested her head against the top of his.
“I think there was another guy with us at the beginning,” he whispered.
“One of your teammates?”
“Yeah. But I’m not sure—it’s all fuzzy.”
“Have you talked to Michael about it? Asked him what he remembers?”
His head shook under hers.
“I think you need to,” she said. “Maybe he can provide pieces you’re missing, and you can provide pieces he’s missing. The shrinks at Walter Reed will probably want to talk to you together at some point, plus all the debriefing you’re going to do.”
He lifted his head from her shoulder. “You’re right. I’ll talk to him on the plane.”
