Bishop’s father shakes his head, dark eyes flashing almost black. “I don’t have to let you do anything.”
“Please.” I squeeze my eyes closed, picturing that room, how scared she was standing in it. “I know what she saw, and I know what she probably told you”—I glance back up—“but I can explain.”
It’s Caroline who steps forward next to her husband, her arms crossed over her chest. The woman may be tiny compared to Saint, but she’s just as intimidating with her current look.
Maybe even more so.
I always thought Bishop took after him since she chose his line of work, but seeing Caroline now, I’m starting to think I was wrong.
This little woman is terrifying.
“We don’t need to hear more lies from you, Gage. If that’s even your real name…”
I flinch. “It is, but I’m not who you think I am.”
Isaac glares at me from where he stands near Bishop beside fireplace and snorts. “No fucking shit.”
The hostility is more than warranted.
From all of them.
I so badly want to let my gaze drift over to hers, to look into her eyes while I plead with all of them to listen to me and believe what I’m about to tell them, but if I try, Saint will make sure I don’t have the opportunity to offer them the answers they need.
“First, you need to understand something.” I cut my gaze from Isaac to Stone where he sits on the couch, then to Kennedy and Cass. “I had nothing to do with the bomb that hurt Gabe and Savage. Nothing.”
Kennedy sits on a high barstool at the kitchen counter and starts to slide off it, like she’s going to come at me, but Cass wraps an arm around her waist, holding her back. “How the fuck can we believe you after what Bishop saw?”
“She’s right.” I stare down the woman primed to become the head of Hawke Enterprises when her father and uncles finally retire and hope she can see the truth in my eyes. “Everything I had in that room was for making bombs. And I have been following all of you for months. But not for the reason you think.” I swallow thickly, trying to dislodge the nerves threatening to choke me. “I don’t work for Satriano. I don’t work for Michael McDonald…”
The words of warning from my call earlier echo in my head, reminding me exactly what’s at stake if I continue down the road I’ve already stepped onto by coming here to offer the Hawkes an explanation.
“If you do that, you’re a dead man…”
It doesn’t matter, though.
My life stopped meaning anything to me when it became clear that I might lose Bishop forever.
“I’m not the enemy.” Even though I shouldn’t. Even though I’m risking the wrath of her father, I lock gazes with Bishop across the room. “I’m CIA.”
She doesn’t react.
It’s as if I didn’t say anything.
Not a blink. Not a gasp of surprise. Not so much as a breath taken.
She just stands there, staring at me but not seeing anything.
Out of my peripheral vision, I catch Isaac beside her shaking his head. “CIA doesn’t operate on U.S. soil.”
I bark out a sardonic laugh at the absurdity of him actually believing that.
The Hawke attorney is wicked smart. Some of the legal maneuvers he and his father have pulled on behalf of the family over the years are pretty epic. But if he really thinks the government doesn’t operate outside the law at times, then he’s not as bright as I thought.
“We’re not supposed to, but counter–intelligence against non-U.S. natives on U.S. soil happens all the time.”
Isaac’s jaw hardens, and he casts a look to his father.
Stone watches me from his seat with skepticism darkening his blue gaze. “If you’re CIA, then why are you using your real name?”
