“Name the place.”
Then Volkov’s gone, swallowed by the crowd.
Tatiana rises a moment later. “I’ll make sure Misha stays warm.” She gives me a look that says don’t do anything stupid. Then she’s gone too.
Leaving me alone in the booth with Vicente and Arturo.
Cal’s smile dissolves. Without an audience, I can’t hold the mask.
“You look well,” I say. First genuine words since I sat down. It’s true—they both do. Relaxed in a way I’ve never seen from either of them.
“Honesty suits us,” Arturo says simply, his hand finding Vicente’s on the table.
“Even under house arrest,” Vicente adds, not pulling away from the touch. “We know exactly where we stand. No more hiding.”
They’re sitting in public, touching casually, making no effort to conceal what they are to each other. I heard enough of Vicente’s drunk confessions to know what Arturo put him through, how he claimed to hate him for it. But hate is just the other side of the same coin. Now they’re just here. Together.
My chest constricts. I was the stand-in for this. The body Vicente kept warm while he pined for the real thing. I know that. Knew it then, too. It doesn’t stop the sting.
“Your handlers know you’re here?”
I’ve already clocked the two men at the bar who haven’t ordered a drink or looked at anyone but us. Private security—not government. Their own hires.
“Of course.” Arturo’s voice is mild. “We’re model citizens now. Therapy sessions, regular check-ins, full cooperation with our debrief schedule.”
Therapy sessions. With Nina.
The micro-expression that crosses my face can’t be more than a twitch, but Vicente catches it.
“Dr. Palmer is very professional,” he says carefully. “Very insightful.”
The words are neutral. The intent isn’t.
“She’s good at what she does,” I manage.
“Yes.” Vicente’s watching me closely now. “Though I imagine it must be difficult. Maintaining professional boundaries when the personal stakes are so high.”
“What are you talking about?”
Vicente’s smile turns predatory. “Come now, Cal. A man with your particular entanglements, operating this close to an active case?” He pauses. “I wonder how much your chain of command actually knows about your situation.”
My jaw tightens. That’s all he needs.
“I didn’t think so.” He sits back. “Secrets make people manageable.”
“Is there a point to this?”
“The point,” Arturo says, “is that everyone uses everyone. The agencies use us for intelligence. We use them for protection. They trust you without knowing how compromised you really are. You use your position to stay close to people you care about.”
“And everyone pretends not to notice the conflicts of interest,” I say.
“Exactly.” Vicente raises his glass. “To mutual exploitation.”
I don’t drink to that.
“She doesn’t know, does she?” Vicente says suddenly. “About your history with this operation. With me.”
My silence is answer enough.
