Over dinner, we stuck to lighter subjects. Favorite books, the movies she missed, all those “normal” first date conversations—through the lens of a fugitive from, well…everyone.
I fill her in, sharing every detail. She deserves my complete honesty, even if she’s angry with me in the end.But she’snotangry. She’s scared, and that makes me feel even worse.
“So what happens tomorrow?” she asks, a hint of a wobble to her voice.
“We bring everythin’ we have to Second Sight.” Taking her hands in mine, I wait for her to meet my gaze. “I swear, Zephyr, if you feel uncomfortable at any time, I’ll get you out of there.”
“How? Aren’t all the people you work with badasses?”
Even though she has a point, I’m not worried. Much. “They are. But I have somethin’ they don’t.” She arches her brows, waiting for my answer. “You mean everythin’ to me. There is no possible way Dax, Ford, or Trevor could stop me if I had to protect you.”
“Determination only gets you so far,” she says. “Physical prowess still counts for something.”
“That it does.” I wish I had the words to tell her the depth of my feelings for her. But even if I did, it’s too soon. I’d spook her, and I won’t take that risk.
Zephyr sits up, a quiet “oof” accompanying the movement. “Theo landed a couple of good blows.” She rubs her shoulder gently. “Thank God men have a built-in weak spot.”
“You got him in the mickey?”
“Mickey? Sometimes you aresoIrish.” With a gentle nudge of her thigh against mine, she smiles.
“Would you want me any other way?”
“Never.” Reaching for her laptop, she shows me the conversation she had with Dante this afternoon. “If he comes back without your number, we’ve caught him in one lie. But it’s not enough. We need more.”
The info Trevor sent over cycles through my head on a loop. “Wren is searchin’ for his name in all the known dark web intelligence databases, and Peter Niehaus is going to find out if he’severworked for the General Intelligence and Security Service.”
“Still not enough to prove he’s in with the cartel.” Her eyes unfocused, she stares out the window. Snowflakes sparkle in the glow of the street lights, and if it keeps up at this rate, the city will be blanketed in white by morning.“Call him,” she says. No longer mired in her food coma, she sits up straight and meets my gaze. “Ask him for more information on me. My age. Height. Eye color. Weaknesses.”
“I hardly think you have any of those, luv. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever known.”
She laughs, a sound I’ve come to crave. “To my own credit, Iama badass bitch. But this is a test. If Dante is in contact with the cartel, he’ll be able to tell you that I’m thirty-four. Five-foot-five. Green eyes. I wear contacts for every passport photo. Never green. Gray, blue, brown, hazel. Even went heterochromic once. But never straight green.”
“And your weaknesses?” I’m baffled. In all the tense situations we’ve been in these past few days, she’s been nothing but a rock.
Her shoulders curl inward, and she wraps her arms around herself. “François and Alex would know of two.” Blowing out a slow breath, she swallows hard. “I’m terrified of small, dark places.”
“You’re claustrophobic?”
“Not…exactly.” As if she’s desperate to prove she’s not currently trapped somewhere small and dark right now, she pushes to her feet and starts to pace my living room. “Between Theo’sinterrogationsessions, they’d lock me in this old shipping trunk.” Her voice cracks, and she clears her throat, never looking directly at me. “I couldn’t sit up or straighten my legs. It smelled…old. Like dust and mold and decay. Even though it wasn’t air tight, it felt like it was. Every time they dumped me in there, I had a panic attack so extreme, I’d pass out. Then wake up still locked inside, and panic all over again. It was exhausting, and a hundred times worse than what happened when they pulled me out.”
Shit. I’m going to tear Theo apart, piece by piece. Or make him suffer the same horrors he inflicted on Zephyr for much, much longer. She’s shaking, her chest stuttering with each breath, and though I’m not sure she wants to be touched, I can’t sit here and watch her fall apart in front of me.
Approaching slowly, my hands at my sides, I keep my voice soft. “Can I hold you, luv?”
A single jerk of her head is all she can manage before she launches herself at me. She doesn’t cry. Doesn’t break down. Doesn’t say a word. But she clings to me like I’m her only tether to sanity.
“I’ve got you. I’llalwayshave you.”
* * *
It takesher half an hour to stop shaking, and when we return to the couch, she’s subdued, her cheeks so pale, I wish I could wrap her in a blanket and fall asleep in front of the fire. “What do you need right now?” I ask.
“To work.” Zephyr pulls her computer into her lap. “I’m hacking my way through Boston National’s firewalls to see if I can find any information on Martín. Oliver said he couldn’t get his address or phone number, but who knows what the bank has that they wouldn’t turn over, even in the face of a warrant.”
She’s so focused, I grab my phone and move to the window. Dante picks up on the second ring. “Ronan. Any news on the assassin?”
“She’s squirrelly. Been close to her multiple times in the past few days, but she keeps slippin’ away. Need to ask you a couple of questions if you have a moment?”
