He could work a mission with Swiss precision—plotting, planning, and executing exactly what needed to be done. Yet he faltered like an amateur when it came to emotions. He simply could not make the right call at the right time. He’d messed up with Pam. Now he wondered if he was repeating the mistake with Cassiopeia.
A light rap disturbed the silence.
He’d been hoping she’d visit.
He opened the door and Cassiopeia walked inside.
“Stephanie told me where you were,” she said. “I’m not happy with her or you right now.”
“Nice to see you, too.”
“What are you doing here?”
He shrugged. “Ran out of stuff to do. Thought I’d come and see what you were up to.” He could see she was not in the mood for sarcasm. Neither was he, actually. “You’re a long way from your castle.”
“I realize I lied to you. It was necessary.”
“Apparently so.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You can let it mean whatever you want it to.”
“I took a chance coming here,” she said. “But I thought we should talk.”
He sat on the edge of the bed.
She remained standing.
“Why did you buy that book?” she asked.
“The president of the United States told me to.” He could see she was unaware of Daniels’ involvement. “Stephanie left that tidbit out? Get used to it. You’re going to be told only what they want you to know.”
She wasn’t her usual self. Her eyes were elusive, her voice flat.
“Why are you here?” he asked her.
“I thought I was helping clear the name of an old friend. Now I’m not so sure.”
Time they lay all the cards on the table. “He’s more than an old friend.”
“He was my first love. We were supposed to marry. Our parents wanted that so much. But I ended it.”
“You never mentioned him. Or that you were Mormon.”
“Neither seemed relevant to anything between us. My parents were Mormon, and I was born one. Once they died, I left the religion. And Josepe.”
He wondered again how much she’d heard in the catacombs. “How long were you outside the chapel?”
Her eyes stayed cold. “Not long.”
“You didn’t hear him admit he killed our agent?”
“No, I didn’t. And it’s a lie. Stephanie said the same thing.”
Her denial sent through his mind the sight of her kissing Salazar. “Why are you so quick to think it’s not true?”
“Because you’re jealous. I saw it in the restaurant.”
“I’m not a kid, Cassiopeia. I’m working a case. Doing my job. Wake up and do the same thing.”
“Go to hell.”
His anger rose. “You understand Salazar has fanatics who do his dirty work. Danites. That’s what those two from the cemetery are.”
“Cotton, you’re going to have to let me handle this. Alone.”
“Tell that to Stephanie.”
“What you did tonight, taking Josepe, was foolish. Luckily it turned in my favor. I was able to capitalize on the situation. He’s beginning to trust me.”
Now he was pissed. “Josepe is a murderer.”
Her eyes flashed hot. “And what proof do we have of that?”
“I saw the body.”
That seemed to register, but then she said, “I have to find out what’s going on. In my own way.”
“I was there,” he said. “Last night. That kiss between you two was no act.” He could see that the revelation surprised her. “More info that wasn’t passed on by Stephanie?”
“You don’t know what it was you saw. I don’t even know what it was.”
“Which is my point exactly.”
He’d come a long way with this woman. From enemies to lovers. They’d endured a lot, formed a bond, a trust—or at least he’d thought so. At the moment she seemed a universe away. A stranger.
And he hated that.
“Look, you’ve done a good job. Why not get out and let me finish this?”
“I can handle it. Without you.”
He kept his emotions in check and risked one more attempt at reason. “This old friend is into something big enough that it involves the president of the United States personally. One agent is dead, whether you want to believe it or not. Three of his men are dead. I killed them. You gotta get with the program, Cassiopeia.” He paused. “Or get out.”
“You really can be an ass.”
“I’m not trying to be.”
“You need to go home.”
She turned for the door.
He did not move.
Not once had she offered anything in the form of affection. No smile. No joy. Nothing. She was as expressionless as a piece of stone. He regretted pressing her. But somebody had to.