Page 19 of Rafe’s Future

“I need to know I can trust you, Lena.” He watched her closely. “Fully.”

A flash of something akin to hurt raced past her gaze. “I hate that you even felt the need to ask me that, but I also understand. You have my word. You can trust me.”

It would have to be enough.

“I had a wife.” He worked a hard swallow. “Like you, she was CIA. We were both a couple of cocky kids when we met. It was a joint training exercise between your agency and MI6.”

“Married.” She blinked. “Wow. Okay, so what happened?”

“We fell in love. It was truly love at first sight for us both. A whirlwind courtship made all the more complicated by our respective jobs. But we loved each other and vowed to make it work. And we did.” He smiled at those earlier, happier memories. “For a while, at least.”

“What happened, Rafe?” Lena quietly asked him again.

“Eleven months before the op in Syria began, a man broke into our home and shot my wife while she was sleeping.”

Her soft gasp filled the air. “Oh, Rafe. I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you. It was a long time ago.”

“It doesn’t matter how much time has passed.” She shook her head slowly. “Losing someone you love stays with you. Always.”

He took a swig of beer, giving his lips a quick lick before speaking again. “I’m assuming you’re up to date on the story about Michael Stanton?”

“Are you kidding?” Lena scoffed. “That whole thing is still the talk of the office. And why wouldn’t it be? The guy’s a former CIA agent-turned-United States Senator who’s now serving a life sentence for murdering his former CIA partner, plus a bunch of other stuff I can’t remember. Not to mention the slew of dirty agents he gave up to keep from being put on Death Row.”

“Do you remember the name of his CIA partner? The one he admitted to killing?”

She looked to the side, visibly attempting to recall that specific detail. “It was Andrea, right? Or wait, no. It was Amanda.” A second later, her widening gaze swung back up to his. “The woman Stanton killed was a CIA agent named Amanda Owens. I never even—was she your⁠—

“Wife?” He nodded. “Yes.”

“Holy shit.” Lena fell against the couch’s back cushion. “I never . . . there was no mention of a wife anywhere in the file I was given on you back then.”

“Very few people knew we were married. And those who did only knew me as her insurance-selling husband.” He gave one shoulder a shrug. “Given who we each worked for, it wasn’t hard keeping our personal life under wraps. Those who did know were the ones we trusted the most . . . including her partner.”

“Of course, you trusted Stanton. He was Amanda’s partner. He should have been the one person she could trust on the job.”

“And yet, he’s the reason she’s dead.”

“I’m sorry, Rafe.” Lena rose to her feet and walked to where he sat. Squatting down before him, she put a hand over his, giving it a comforting squeeze. “Truly, I am.”

Rafe set his bottle down onto the small accent table to his right before reaching over and covering the back of her hand with his palm. “Thank you, Lena. I appreciate that, but there’s more.”

When she slid her hand free, he let her go despite the sudden urge to hold on tight.

“Tell me.” She stood as tall as her five-four frame would allow.

“Amanda and I had a daughter.” He paused, staring deep into her curious gaze. “Alice was six when Stanton broke into our home and⁠—”

“He didn’t.”

“No.” Rafe quickly put her mind at ease. “He didn’t hurt her, but . . . someone did.”

“What do you mean?”

“She was shot earlier this afternoon while we were standing in front of my office building.”

Lena’s pretty eyes grew wide with shock. “What? I-Is she⁠—”