“Thanks.”
He smiled at me, and the color of his eyes made me forget we were in fact a government agent and a career criminal meeting to discuss someone’s death rather than a couple enjoying coffee.
I gathered my mug with both hands and blew on it, hiding under the hat’s bill.
After a few quiet moments, Bray broke the silence. “You know, if we’re on a date, we should probably be talking to each other.”
My face warmed. I was embarrassed to tell him I had never been on a coffee date, and I didn’t know what to do. I discreetly eyed the other couples and noted one pair was holding hands on top of the table and the other was sharing a laugh.
Both options made me wildly uncomfortable.
“Maybe the date isn’t going well,” I said into my latte, which was nearing a drinkable temperature.
“Well, you’re already wearing an article of my clothing, so I have to assume it’s going at least somewhat well.”
I fought the smile tugging at my lips. He may have been a crap agent, but damn it, was he a charming fake date.
“I’m really sorry about Agent Wallace,” he said, and brought the mood crashing right back down. “Were you two close?”
There were much more important matters at stake than my emotional relationship with Wallace, what with him being dead, but opening upthatbox was not something I was prepared to do on a fake coffee date.
I glanced out the window and reminded myself Del Rio was ridiculously safe. The chances of being found here were slim to none. Not to mention, I had a big, strong secret agent sitting across from me with a gun attached to his hip, though my confidence in his skill with it was lacking.
I staved off the worry rising inside me with a sip of my latte. Bray’s question,were we close, felt intrusive. I had never talked about Wallace with anyone because I couldn’t. Exposing our relationship was a death wish. More than a few of my targets would have put a bullet in my head if they found out I was a rat. Wallace had been the only consistent thread in my life for a decade. He was all I knew, and the only one who truly knew me.
But were we close?
“Our relationship was … complicated.”
“How so?”
I huffed a dark laugh. “In pretty much every way you can think of. He saved me, in a sense. But he also controlled me—literally—for ten years. I couldn’t do anything without his permission or without him knowing about it.”
Bray nodded with a look on his face I couldn’t read. Something between pity and understanding.
“He was also the only person I really knew, but to say I even knew him is a stretch, which speaks volumes about my tragic social life. We were more like employee and boss, except one of us held the power to send the other to prison for life if he felt like it.” My attempted laugh fell flat.
Sympathy colored Bray’s face, and I realized something I couldn’t believe I had only just thought of.
“Wait, if Wallace is dead, does that mean I’m free?”
He turned to look out the window and stroked his chin, his thumb catching the scar on his jaw. Anyone watching would have assumed our date had hit an awkward speed bump. He looked back at me and pressed his lips together. “Not exactly. With Wallace gone, and as of this morning, I’ve been reassigned as your interim handler.”
The news hit me like a brick I saw coming a mile off. Of course I wasn’t free. I would never be free.
“Until when?”
“Until we figure out what to do with you.”
“I’m not a commodity.”
“No, but you are an asset. One with a decade of DSA knowledge, which needs to be carefully monitored.”
His sudden shift into dehumanizing me—so much for whatever butterflies our fake date had been giving me—made me bristle.
“You really do suck at this if you think I’m foolish enough to consider ever sharing any of the information I have.”
He sighed a tense breath. “Look, I don’t think you’re foolish. It’s … complicated.”
