Two is a Lie(87)

He nods stiffly without moving his eyes from the pictures.

“I don’t want to see him!” I shove my hands in my hair, panicking. I’m not ready to deal with his betrayal. If I see guilt in his eyes, if he cheated on me, I know what I’ll have to do, and I can’t bear it. “Send him away.”

Trace’s gaze shifts to the photos of Cole. Then he looks me and huffs a scornful laugh. “Trust me. I don’t want to see him, either. But he has answers I need.”

Fuck. I spin toward the pile of clothes on the floor and grab the jeans just as the elevator opens.

Cole storms into the penthouse, clad in his black security uniform with a gun on his hip. His sharp gaze sweeps over my half-naked, hunched-over posture, flicks to Trace, and lands on the counter covered in photos.

I shove on my jeans and sweater, my breath bursting in and out, as I monitor his reaction.

His strides are strong and swift, eating up the floor in his approach to the island. He leans over the disgusting collage and examines every image without a twitch of shock on his face.

“Is it resolved?” Trace stands beside Cole, taller, sterner, more formidable, with judgment and scrutiny tapering his eyes.

There’s no question who used to be the boss. For a curious moment, my turbulent emotions are diluted by fascination as they slip into their former work relationship.

“It’s locked down. Physically.” Cole looks at him. “Sentencing was this week.”

Trace directs his gaze at the sex photos, his voice quiet. “Defector?”

Cole waits several seconds before giving a sharp nod.

“What does that mean?” I glance between them, struggling to follow the conversation. “Are you saying the woman is a defector? Like she turned against…what?”

They don’t break eye contact to spare me a look or any form of acknowledgment.

“Fuck.” Trace releases a breath. “That was the mission?”

“Yes.” Cole grinds his teeth. “It was a goat fuck operation from the start, but it’s wrapped up. I’m officially out. Out of all of it.”

“When did you fuck her?” My eyes burn as waves of pain unfurl inside me.

“I can’t disclose any—”

“Fuck you!” I turn away as a sob rips from my throat.

“Danni,” Cole says firmly and grips my upper arms from behind.

“Don’t touch me!” I lurch away from him, retreating backward and crying noisily against the cover of my hands.

He cheated on me. He left me and cheated on me and my heart hurts so badly I can’t breathe.

Cole holds his fists at his sides, his expression stricken and posture tightly coiled.

“Tell me the status of Danni’s safety.” Trace’s deep rumble echoes through the penthouse.

“She’s safe.” Cole angles toward him, leaving a foot of volatile air between them. “I wouldn’t have returned to the States if she wasn’t.”

“Except I wasn’t safe.” I angrily snatch one of the photos of Trace and hold it up to Cole. “Did you know about this?”

Cole closes his eyes for a tense moment before pinning me with a resolute glare. “There was a breach. Stolen information. But it’s over. The perpetrator is behind bars.”

Lies. I taste them, salty and pungent, on my lips. I can’t swallow anything the cheater tells me. His sour tongueless words lodge in my throat like a poisonous pill.

“You said no one knew your true identity.” I pace through the kitchen. “No one knew where you lived, who you cared about. You said I wasn’t connected to any of this.”

The only response Cole gives me is a fixed stare.

Trace steps toward me, his gaze lingering on the tendons stretching in my tense neck. A foot away, he reaches for me, as if to hug me.

“No.” I hold my hands up, warding him off. “Did you know about Cole and that woman?”

He pulls in a breath and releases it. “When I was his handler, I sent him into dozens of beds.”

“Trace.” Cole growls

“To retrieve information?” I wrap an arm around my cramping stomach. “That’s what you told me. That sometimes information is the only goal in a mission. Is that what this was?” I look at Cole, shuddering with bitterness. “She had information, and you fucked it out of her?”

He rests his hands on his hips and lowers his head, blowing out a sound of exasperation. “I can’t talk about this. Just know I’m done with that job. It’s over and—”

“If that’s true…” I flick a finger at the pictures. “Why was that in my car?”

“It was an event trigger.” Cole collects the photos and stacks them into a pile. “Something happened that sent certain actions into motion. Actions that are supposed to end with you being served this bullshit and me losing the only thing that matters to me.”