The air whooshes from my lungs. Jesus. What’s he involved in? Is he Delta Force? Some kind of SEAL team badass? A CIA operative? My knowledge of secret government shit is limited to movies and TV shows.
“He’s leaving out another reason.” Trace glances from me to Cole before giving me firm eye contact. “Neither of us want to go to prison.”
“What?” My scalp tingles. “You would go to prison for telling me what you do?”
“Yes.” Cole props his elbows on the mattress and steeples his fingers against his lips. “We worked for an entity that doesn’t exist, doing things that never happen and fighting wars no one will ever hear about. If we talked, it would be a criminal—”
“I would never say anything.” I snap my spine straight.
“You would if you were interrogated. There are many ways to glean information. Ways far more sophisticated than lie detector tests.” Cole frowns. “Our nation’s enemies are even more creative, especially in their methods of torture.”
“Torture?” A bud of fear bursts inside me. “You said I’m not connected to you, that I’m not in danger—”
“Something went very wrong with this last job.” His eyes cut to Trace and back to me. “I was forced into hiding for three years, had to change my appearance, assume another alias, and stay far, far away from you. You’re safe because I followed protocol and will continue to do so.”
I expect Trace to rebuke Cole’s unbelievable story, but as his head lowers, his mouth sets in sullen affirmation.
“Someone wanted you dead.” Saying it out loud doesn’t help it sink in.
“Lots of someones. It’s the nature of the job.” Cole’s brown eyes lose focus as he stares at the mattress between us. “I couldn’t risk looking you up, not even to see an updated picture of you online. I couldn’t contact Trace, because my connection to him could’ve led someone back to you. When I…” His nostrils flare. “When I ran into trouble, I severed communication with you and Trace and disappeared. I had all my tattoos removed, wore colored contacts and glasses, shaved my head, and grew a beard. That man, the identity I assumed for three years…” He blinks and meets my eyes. “You wouldn’t have recognized him.”
I wilt against the mattress, reeling at the desolation in his words. “Are you still hiding?”
“I don’t exist. The world I was embedded in is only aware of my fake identities, and I didn’t come home until every threat against my life was eliminated.”
Hiding…fake identities…threats…eliminated…
My eyes feel hot and gummy, and I suspect the tears have only just begun. “Is your real name Cole Hartman?”
“Yes, baby.” He grips my hand and squeezes. “I’ve only ever lied to you about the job, and I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t have a choice.”
There are so many questions pounding in my head I can’t spit them out fast enough. “If you operated under different identities, what was the purpose of the fake explosion? Why couldn’t you have just disappeared and left it at that?”
“I needed you to believe I was dead…for your own protection.”
“But you said I was safe.”
“You were. You are.” His fingers weave around mine. “It was just another layer of security. I wasn’t taking any chances with you.”
My throat works through a tight swallow. “Another layer of security?”
“I was the first layer.” Trace glances at my hand where it tangles with Cole’s. “If something happened to me or if someone targeted you without me knowing, they would’ve seen you grieving, completely in the dark and unaware of Cole’s true whereabouts.”
“I thought you were watching me to keep me from dating?” I pull my hand from Cole’s grip and narrow my eyes at Trace.
“That, too.” Trace bends forward, resting his forearms on his thighs.
Trace succeeded in keeping men out of my bed. He kept everyone away except himself. We’re all thinking it, and it feels gossamer-fragile writhing and tangling around us.
I’m in love with the man Cole entrusted to protect me.
Trace proposed to his best friend’s fiancé.
I’m engaged to two men.
The unspoken thoughts gather between us like black clouds, charging the air and pricking my skin with icy darts of electricity. I hold my breath, hoping the storm will pass. But it’s swelling, tensing Trace’s posture, and shortening Cole’s breaths. This time, the storm wins.
“I trusted you.” Cole explodes to his feet, knocking the nightstand against the wall in his sudden fury. “If I’d known you’d move in on her, that you’d put your fucking dick in her—”