“I don’t want the programmed answer, El. I want the truth. After all we shared, I think you owe me that much.”
Another attempt at swallowing, this one no better than the last. Christ, he looked pissed. Pissed and lost and so damn beautiful it made her chest hurt. Right over where she’d locked away her heart. Where it had shriveled and died then turned to dust.
Guilt gnawed at her. She still didn’t know what her boss had told Brett—how the man had ended the relationship, but looking at Brett, rerunning his choice of words, she knew he wasn’t just asking about her vocation. He wanted it all.
“Okay. Yes.”
His mouth quirked. “Yes. What.”
“I work for the CIA.”
“Analyst or field operative?”
“If I tell you that, your life?—”
“Is already at risk. We burned that damn bridge the moment I opened the door. So stop tiptoeing around the questions and just answer me.”
He hadn’t raised his voice, but the tone. The expression on his face. For a moment, he’d looked like Cannon always had. A man with nothing to lose.
“Fine. I’m a field operative, though, my official title is protective agent.”
“Field…” He couldn’t seem to get the rest out, swallowing so hard she heard it still standing a few feet away. He shook his head, glancing down at the counter as he braced his elbows on the surface. “Christ.”
Ellis looked at the floor, studied the wooden planks until the silence threatened to undo her. She walked over to the counter, sliding into the barstool beside him. “Brett…”
“Was any of it real?”
“Excuse me?”
“Us. The service. You being MI.” He turned, gaze centered on hers. Eyes fierce. “Was it all a lie? Part of your cover? Was I a convenient way to gather intel?”
He exhaled then straightened, slowly walking over to the gas fireplace on the other side of the room. Back stiff. Hands fisted at his side. Even when he placed one against the mantle, he didn’t unclench his fingers, using his fist to absently tap the brick.
Seeing him like that…
She wrapped her arms around her stomach, silently vowing not to puke. Not to react. But the harder she tried to stay calm, the less controlled she felt.
She rose, closing half the distance between them. “Brett.”
“I told Cannon there wasn’t any way you could have hidden that from me. That I knew you too well. That we were too much in love. Too connected. But, seeing you, now…” He looked back at her. “I’ll still help you. Regardless. That’s who I am. What my team’s about, but…I need to know. Not for Cannon or this mission. For me. No more lies.”
“You think I was CIA? This whole time? That I played you?”
“Please. We all worked with spooks. We knew the score. What they were capable of.”
“So, that’s what I am to you, now? Just another spook?”
“Answer the question.”
“I shouldn’t have to. But since you obviously never really knew me, I will.” Anger replaced some of the hurt, boiling the pain into red-hot rage. She stalked her way closer, getting right up into his face. “No, Brett. I wasn’t CIA back then. I wasn’t lying, and I didn’t fucking gather intel.”
“Then why? Why leave for this?”
“Because I didn’t have a choice.”
“Everyone has a choice, sweetheart.”
“Not when you uncover an unsanctioned CIA unit because you hacked a portion of the National Clandestine Service’s Special Activities Division. Got a list of several deep cover operatives and what they were doing. When you dothat, you get a one-way ticket to hell.”
