Shit. “Forced?”
“Yes, forced. The Soup I knew wouldn’t let a simple retirement knock him down. He would have stayed in the military until he died. That’s what he told me.” Her voice had grown soft at the last line, soft with an edge of pain if he wasn’t mistaken.
“Plans change.” Lach chomped down on the pen casing.
She flinched like he’d slapped her.
“That they do.” She pushed away from the table and for a sickening moment, Lach thought Gina had given up on him and was leaving.
Again.
He tensed to spring to the door to prevent her from going. It was as if no time had passed between Paris and now, only this time instead of going on a mission thinking that when he came back, she’d be waiting for him to marry her, he knew he wouldn’t see her again. He should have never let her go back to London, and now he’d do or say anything to convince her to stay here with him this time.
But instead of heading to the door, Gina paced to the peninsula dividing the kitchen from the rest of the studio apartment and back again. She made the circuit twice before saying anything.
“Your last two missions, your retirement—and the retirement of two other men on your team—were classified. Lach, what happened?” She’d stopped and fixed him with a sympathetic stare that bordered on pity. That was worse than her inquisitor’s gaze.
He would have none of that.
“Fuck it. You know what, Gina? I’m tired of the secrets, of everything your people have put me through.”What you put me throughhe almost added.
“Mypeople? The CIA, you mean.”
“Yeah. We were framed, all right? Accused of doping and of using coke and meth while on the mission, by a CIA informant. So they tested my team for drugs and steroids, and three of us tested positive including me. Bullshit.”
“You fought it though.” A statement, not a question.
“I tried. We took a second test. The other two guys were cleared, but I was told that mine came up positive again, at which point they gave me the option of quietly retiring or being turned into a bloody warning.” Lachlan’s fists were clenched in sullen rage. “It was a damn setup by the CIA.”
Gina resumed pacing. “Why did they want you out of the way? Did it have to do with the missions?”
All Lachlan could do was stare at her until she pivoted on her heel and stopped pacing.
“What?”
“You believe me.” Gina was the first person who had given him the benefit of the doubt. The first person who flat-out believed him.
“Of course I believe you. Why wouldn’t I?”
Because you wanted nothing to do with me once you decided to stay with the CIAhe thought. No, not the CIA. With whatever black ops bullshit they have you in now.
Instead, he simply stated, “No one else does.”
She cocked her head. “Then they don’t know you like I do.”
God, she was killing him. “Why are you here, Gina?”
She returned to the table and sat down. Instead of answering him, she asked, “Did you try to discover who framed you?”
“Of course I did,” he growled. “You think I would let something like that go? Yes, I tried to dig into it. I got the names of the assholes who tested our blood, hired a PI to look into them, follow them even. Nothing.”
“You have enemies?”
Lachlan barked out a laugh. “I was an active SEAL, remember?”
She grimaced. Then she sucked in her gorgeous lower lip and Lach tried not to groan as his body reminded him of how hers had felt pressed against him and how long it had been since he’d held the woman he’d thought of as his one and only.
“I was thinking more along the lines of friendly fire. Like you said, the CIA. So, who did you piss off?”
