“You’re not falling for me. I won’t fall for you.” She turned away. “If you need help with your wound, you know where I am. Otherwise, though, do me a favor, will you?”
“Anything.” He stumbled after her, helpless.
Simone glanced back at him. Tears glittered in her eyes. “Fuck off, spy.”
Chapter Twenty
A soft knock rapped against her bedroom door. Simone stared up at the ceiling as she sprawled on the bed. Not sleeping. Not even close to sleeping.
Not crying anymore, either, so that was good.
But glaring. She was hardcore glaring at the ceiling.
The soft knock came again.
“Go away!” Simone called. Then…hell. He was shot. He might need me. She tossed aside the covers and marched for the door. With an angry hand she wrenched the door open. “Do you need my help with your wound?”
And, no, one swift glance told her that he did not.
Because he had a white bandage around his upper arm. His bare upper arm. Ryan had ditched the soaking, white shirt. He’d ditched his black dress pants. His shoes and socks. He wore a pair of gray jogging pants that clung to his hips, and his insane abs were on full display. He looked big, foreboding, and far too sexy.
Damn him. Was it just too much for him to occasionally look rumpled and unkempt?
He propped his non-injured forearm against the doorframe and leaned toward her. “I’m a liar.”
“Tell me something I don’t know. You’ve been lying to me from day one.” Granted, she’d been doing the same thing but…
At some point, the lies got old. Was it so wrong to wish that she could be honest with him? That he could be honest with her?
“Lying is part of my job, but I was always good at pretending. Long before I joined the CIA, I was good at lying. I was good at fighting. I was good at killing.”
Goosebumps rose onto her body.
“I started in the Marines,” he revealed. “Semper Fi.”
She shook her head, not understanding where this was going.
“Always faithful,” Ryan explained. “Semper Fidelis. That’s the motto of the Marines. I protected. I defended. I served my country, and I made a difference. Never even thought about becoming a spy back in those days. Didn’t even appear on my radar, not until my brother Nash had a sudden career change and became a spook.”
Why was he telling her all of this? “Was he a Marine, too?”
“Nah. Nash was supposed to be a doctor. That is what he is going to be. Now. But life—fate—was twisted back then, and he had to make hard choices. I didn’t even know why he was changing everything. He didn’t tell me. When, normally, Nash told me everything. All I knew was that something was wrong, he was walking into danger, and I couldn’t let him walk that path alone.” A twisted smile came and went on his lips. “So I followed him into the CIA, and I discovered that I am a very good liar. I am very good at manipulation. I’m good at compartmentalizing my life. At not letting emotions get in the way of a mission. I’m good at becoming someone new every few months or every other year.”
She curled her arms around her stomach. “Is Ryan Quinn even your real name?”
“Funnily enough, it is. The CIA built me a very solid background using that name. I don’t employ it on most missions, but I did on this one.” His gaze held hers. “Is Simone Sailor your real name?”
“Simone is my real name.”
“But not Sailor?”
“My father was a sailor.” Memories whispered through her. Of a time when the feeling of water on her skin hadn’t been terrifying. Her father had taken her out on the water again and again. She’d been sailing her own small Sunfish sailboat by the time she was four, but he’d been beside her. Always beside her.
Until he wasn’t.
Ryan’s arm slid away from the doorframe. “You chose it for him.”
She shrugged. But, yes, she had. She used the last name of Sailor because it was part of a happier time.
