Page 110 of Until the End

She waited for Sanborn to elaborate. Confirm it would be at Langley with his CIA colleague. And she waited.

No clarification came.

“All right.” She conceded the losing battle. “What time is your appointment? Maybe we can have a late supper afterward.”

“Raincheck,” Sanborn said, not answering her question. “But when I’m done, I can swing by your place, or you can come to mine. Whatever you prefer. I should be free by nine. Unless that’s too late for you.”

This wasn’t the first time she’d noticed he had a way of not answering her questions, using some slick evasive technique. She always made excuses for it, explained it away, but this was the first time that it bothered her. “No. That’s not too late.”

“We can…what do you call it, Netflix and chill?” He flashed a rare smile.

Sanborn never seemed to sleep. They had late dinners, made love, watched a movie, and she’d still find him awake at some godforsaken hour. And none of it stopped his morning workout. She wanted half his energy and stamina.

“Sure. Sounds like a date.” Emily leaned across the desk, gave him a quick kiss, and left.

She went back to her desk and pretended to work. For three hours. Distracted. Anxious.

Healthy adults in a monogamous relationship trust their partners. You deserve happiness. That was what Emily told herself.

She repeated it as she poured a cup of coffee in the break room. As she walked to Sanborn’s office and checked if Janet knew the details of the appointment that he’d left for thirty minutes ago. As she found out that Janet knew nothing. As she picked up the phone to call Sanborn for the sixth time only to find that he’d turned off his cell.

Yes, he’d been on a suspicious phone call at two o’clock in the morning, but he had explained that. The man was the director of a spy organization, hunting terrorists, coordinating multiple missions, and liaising with other agencies. Calls in the middle of the night were the norm.

Then why was she a bundle of nerves twisted into a Gordian knot?

Who is Ashley?

I’m sorry?

Rather than giving her truth the first time, he’d done that evasive thing. If Ashley was a male colleague at the CIA, why not be upfront about it? Before her hysterics provoked the response.

Sitting back at her desk, Emily vacillated as she played with the charms on her bracelet. Sanborn wasn’t abusive and he wasn’t a cheater, but there was something she was missing. It kept niggling at the back of her mind.

I will never cheat on you. Never hurt you. Never take you for granted.

He’d made her a solemn vow that she’d taken to heart.

Funny, he’d never said he wouldn’t lie to her.

Evasion and lies were the modus operandi of a cheater. She’d been through that dance twice, more than enough to know.

To trust him, she had to believe him.

But to believe him, she had to be sure he wasn’t lying.

“Hi,” Cutter said low into his phone. “Would you mind checking on her? Make sure she has some vegetables and not just pizza for dinner.”

He must’ve been talking to his neighbor, who sometimes looked out for his teenage sister who was in his custody.

“No, that’s okay. I wasn’t calling to ask you to feed her,” Cutter said, turning his back. “I’ll pay you back by stocking your fridge.”

Emily looked over at Willow, the only person who could help her. It was a minor miracle she was even still here.

The analyst always went home to give her father dinner and then came back to work if necessary, but her soon-to-be surrogate mother-in-law, a retired nurse, had driven down to help at home since Willow and Reaper were in the trenches with the current mission.

Black ops were at this very moment raiding a second safe house where they suspected Khan was holing up.

While Sanborn was where? Off at an appointment that he couldn’t cancel.