Of course it did,she thought. Like he’d said, they had separate paths and he was happy to follow his—away from her after this mission.
* * *
The sandstorm blew itself out sometime toward morning. After he’d had a smoke—God knew where he’d found a cigarette unless one of his buddies who stocked the SUV took pity on him and left him a pack—they pulled the heavy, sand-choked netting off the SUV and shoveled sand away from the tires. They worked in silence, guns at the ready, wary of any guards who might still be tracking them. But with the news from Lach’s team, that seemed less of a possibility. Regina’s body ached by the time they were done. Her skin felt raw where sand blew across it now—the worst of the storm had passed but the weather was by no means calm.
Lachlan nodded when he thought they’d moved enough sand to make it to the highway back into the city. He drove them over sand and rocks and around drifting dunes on the road that reminded her of snow after a Midwestern blizzard. They passed other vehicles that had been forced off the road—paint blasted off, their windows buffed like sea glass.
The city was quiet, on lockdown, but Regina flashed her passport and they passed every checkpoint with ease. She’d lost her cell phone somewhere, either in the princess’s car or during their trek to the second SUV. She wasn’t used to keeping track of one yet; no one was. She imagined it was full of frantic messages from her mother. She wished she could let her parents know she was on her way. Regina glanced over at Lachlan. Would he drive her straight to their door and drop her off like a prom date long past curfew?
Yup. That was exactly what he did.
She had about one minute before her father’s security team would rush the car.
“Will I see you at the debriefing?” she asked.
“Probably not, lass.” He turned to her, his sea-colored eyes dark and unreadable. “Good luck. Whatever you choose to do with your life, I’m sure you’ll be astounding.”
“I’ve decided that if given the chance, I’m headed for the Farm. So, maybe our paths will cross again.”
Lachlan clenched his jaw and she wondered if it was at the thought of her joining the CIA, or of seeing her again.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the front door open and the head of security storm out. Regina undid her seatbelt and used their last few seconds together to dart across the gap between them and land a kiss on his lips. His hand came up and tangled in her hair for an instant before he pulled back, his eyes now on fire.
“Burn brightly, Sunshine,” he said as the passenger door opened and Regina was whisked out of the car and back into her normal life.
* * *
Two years passed before she saw him again.
Two busy, unbelievable years.
True to her word, Regina told Jeremy that she wanted to join the Agency and true to his, he greased the rails. Regina visited the Farm for eighteen grueling months—first starting at a desk (not as boring as she thought it would be) then on to training in dead drops, detecting tails, weapons training, the stress of constant surveillance, and finally exercises on surviving capture and torture.
Six months out of the Farm, Gina’s assignment took her back to the Middle East, this time to Egypt. Sipping her mint tea at a table in the dusty shade of a teashop’s awning, Gina had just followed two men suspected of having ties with a terrorist group that didn’t approve of Egypt’s new leaders. They were sitting just inside discussing an upcoming meeting with a man from Qatar, giving her all the information she could have wanted. Tonight she would type up her report and pass it on up the line, and tomorrow, she would make contact with another agent for the first time at a different cafe and pass on any new intel and recommendations that she received back. All she knew was that this person would approach her table and ask her if she liked lemon with her tea and she would reply,only when drinking with the royals.
As she eavesdropped on two men, she spotted him.
He was dressed like a tourist but she’d recognize his body anywhere—the way he stood, the way he moved, the way he brought his cigarette to his lips. Lachlan Campbell stood in an alleyway across from the tea shop. He was pretending to examine spices, occasionally engaging the merchant in conversation. But every couple of minutes he glanced straight at her.
Two years. She’d spent those years trying to forget Lachlan, telling herself she was far too busy to look him up. She’d also been too busy to have a relationship with anyone else. The closest man in her life right now was Jeremy Heath. After she’d told him her intentions to join the CIA, he’d treated her with a new level of respect and gave her no reason not to trust him. Throughout her training, Jeremy had kept tabs on her. She was never sure how to feel about that. During their debriefing after Sana’s rescue she’d grilled him about the coup, knowing that he must have had intelligence on it.
“I told you everything you needed to know about your mission, Regina. I would never hold back on you. That gets people killed.”
Still, that little voice in the back of her head told her to trust but verify.
That went for everyone in her life, not just Jeremy. She’d always been distrustful by nature, thanks to her father, but working for the Agency took her wariness to an all-new level. She cut ties with her old friends and acquaintances, with one notable exception. She shed the last bit of her naivety, and locked her heart down tightly. She went into the Farm as Regina Sparda and emerged as Gina Smith—tougher and wiser.
And coldhearted if she believed what Jeremy told her about herself. Cold-heartedness was a good quality to have in her new line of work—he’d told her that, too.
But seeing Lachlan watch her across the road undid every last bit of icy shielding she’d put up around her heart and set her belly on fire.
Burn brightly, Sunshine. His last words to her echoed in her head.
Gina was tempted to grab her phone and call in. She and Jeremy were partners on this mission, posing as friendly Canadians looking for goods to import for their shop in Toronto. Their cover allowed them to linger in the markets where they could eavesdrop, taking the temperature of the country after what was being called the Arab Spring. Jeremy had never mentioned any CIA paramilitary units, let alone Lachlan being a part of their assignment.
For one irrational moment, she let herself think that he’d sought her out on his own, unable to stay away, that he’d kept track of her just as Jeremy had. She watched Lachlan pay the merchant for a paper bag full of spices, then field strip his cigarette before crossing the street. She felt like she was in a dream—hell, she’d had dreams like this countless times where Lachlan appeared out of nowhere and walked toward her, sea-colored eyes flashing, his lips curving into a seductive smile. In her dreams he never reached her before she woke up.
But I must be awake now because he’s standing right in front of me.
