She gives a tight nod. "But here. And slow."
I hold up my hands, palms forward. No sudden movements. As I grab my boxer briefs from the stack of clean clothes, I don't miss how her eyes travel down my chest, lingering on the scars crisscrossing my torso, then lower to mysix-pack. There is a slight widening of her pupils and the almost imperceptible catch in her breathing.
She doesn't hate what she sees.
My mind automatically files this tactical information away as a potential weakness. Then something else inside me tells that tactical part to fuck off. It's not an advantage. It's just a woman looking at a man she might be attracted to. Simple human connection. File it away in that dusty part of my psyche, the part that used to enjoy female attention.
I slip the boxer briefs on under the towel, then let it drop. Again, her eyes flicker over me, lower this time, cataloging. I pull on the gray sweatpants and white T-shirt I packed earlier, movements deliberate and smooth.
"Can I sit?" I ask, gesturing to the chair in the corner.
Another nod from Naomi, silent and watchful, the gun never wavering.
I settle into the chair, keeping my hands relaxed on the arms. "What do you want to know?"
Her eyes narrow, studying me with the focus of someone trained to see through lies. "Is Walker your real name?"
I shrug. "Real as any. Been using it for a long time now."
"I believe that you were in the military. But it's more than that, isn't it?"
I nod slowly. "I was a soldier. But a unique kind. A very particular tool that the government didn't like that they had to use."
"Special Forces?"
"Something like that. But more specialized than you can imagine. We were trained to work individually as well as in a team. One man could take down an outpost or a base. Together, we could level a large city."
I watch Naomi absorb what I've told her, her face a mixture of disbelief and dawning comprehension. "I've never heard of anything like this."
"Why would you?" I ask with a slight shrug. No hostility in my tone, just stating facts.
"I'm CIA.”
"Before your time. Maybe not above your pay grade, or below, as the case may be. But outside a handful of guys, no pay grade knew about what we did." I flex my fingers absently to hide the fact that there’s more. What I said is not a lie. But I don’t go into what they did to make us what we were. I can't bring myself to admit that I'm something less than human now. And hopefully the Special Forces explanation will cover the speed with which I killed those men and the bear.
I watch Naomi process everything I've told her. Her gun is still in her hand, but it's pointing at the floor now. Progress.
"Why aren't you with them anymore?"
I let out a harsh laugh. "We outlived their stomach for what they made us do. We mutually agreed to go underground. Scatter to the wind and disappear."
Her eyes narrow. "Until I showed up."
"Until you showed up," I confirm, nodding slowly.
She studies me, and I can see her reassessing everything that's happened between us. The pieces fall into place in that sharp mind of hers.
"From the sound of it, you could have overpowered me anytime you wanted," she says, not quite an accusation but close.
I can't help the slight quirk of my lips. "Not anytime. You tie a mean knot."
My weak attempt at humor falls flat. No smile. Instead, her eyes lock onto mine, probing, searching. "You said we're in this together. But there are no witnesses left. And you can clearly disappear if you want to. Why are you helping me?" she asks again, the question hanging far heavier between us.
Because you do things to my heart and body that I didn't think were still possible.
The thought comes unbidden, and I'm grateful I have enough control not to let it show on my face. It's true, though. But that's not an answer I can give her. Not now. Not ever.
Instead, I settle for a version of the truth that doesn't expose quite so much. "Something didn't add up. It was curiosity at first, and then it seemed you needed help. So I helped."
