She nodded. “He was one of the fifteen.” She looked away from his face, not wanting to see pity in his eyes. She didn’t deserve it. “I lost focus after he died. Couldn’t seem to pull it together. My friends were worried, my parents talked about sending me to therapy. Luckily, they were in Idaho so they didn’t see how bad I really was, but . . .” She drew another breath. “I wanted to die. I didn’t know how I could go on. And then one day I was walking by the student union and saw there was a job fair. I went in for no reason and realized the CIA was there, educating students about what they do. I saw it as my way out.”
Her hands grew sweaty, and she swiped them against her dirty jeans. “I started out as an analyst but then moved over to counterintelligence. I needed something to do. I couldn’t sit behind a desk all day. And I loved it. I loved the travel and the challenge and being out of my head. Working for the Agency saved me when nothing else could have. And I was doing good. Really good. Until I met you.”
She looked up. He hadn’t moved from his position on the arm of the chair, but he was watching her. Closely. She willed herself to go on.
“I knew as soon as I met you that you weren’t the mole. You didn’t fit the profile. You were too honest. And just being around you, I knew you were the kind of guy who’d joined CIA for the right reasons. To make a difference, not to hide, like I’d done. And I knew I should have stayed away from you, but . . .” She lifted her shoulders and then dropped them. “I couldn’t. Because your energy was contagious. And after just a few weeks, I realized I was . . . happy. For the first time since Sam’s death. Even in a miserable country that devalues women. With you I felt . . . safe.”
He didn’t say anything, and she had no idea what he was thinking. All she knew was that her pulse was pounding and her hands were sweating, and that as hard as all of that was to admit, what she had to say next would be worse.
“And then . . . do you remember that merchant we were staked out watching? The one we were trying to connect to those arms deals in the Middle East? Remember when he ventured out, and the three of us followed? We thought he was making a drop somewhere and that we could finally catch him in the act. Only he tricked us, and you and Carter and I had to split up to try to find him.”
She pressed a hand against her chest, remembering the fear she’d felt that day. “When that car bomb went off and blew up part of the street you’d disappeared down, I couldn’t breathe. I was sure you were dead. Sure of it. And then when I found out you were alive, I was so relieved. You have no idea what I felt in that moment.”
“Eve—”
“And then . . . then I was pissed and scared all at the same time. And I knew I had to get away from you. See, I gave up everything for the CIA. Everything I’d wanted before. A home, a family, a future. I never wanted to go through the kind of pain I went through when I lost Sam. And in one moment, in one microsecond, I was right back there. Only this time it was worse because what I felt for you was a thousand times stronger than what I had ever felt for Sam.”
Those hard, wary eyes that had been watching her since he’d stepped out of the shower softened, and he pushed off the chair. “Eve.”
Eve quickly rose to her feet and held up a hand, blocking him from touching her. “No.” She had to get this out. If she stopped, she’d never finish, and this time she was determined to tell him everything. “I hated you for that. For making me feel something again. And I hated myself even more for letting it happen. With you I was losing focus. I didn’t need the CIA, and that scared me. So I pulled back. And when you wouldn’t let me, when I knew I wasn’t going to be able to make a clean break without something dramatic, I set up that meeting with that arms dealer, and I made sure you saw.”
She stiffened her shoulders and met his gaze head-on, knowing this wasn’t something she could back down from, no matter how much she suddenly wanted to. “I wanted you to think the worst of me so I could get away from you, so I set it up to look like I was trading information with him. And then . . .”
She drew a deep breath. “And then I let him go, even knowing all the things he was rumored to be a part of, because I wanted you to hate me.”
20
Zane didn’t know how to answer. Didn’t know what to say, for that matter.
From the moment he’d walked out of the shower and found Eve sitting on the bed, he’d been speechless. After their argument downstairs, he’d expected to barely interact with her before Ryder showed up. And now here she was. Telling him things he’d never in a million years expected her to divulge.
So much now made sense. The way she’d started distancing herself after that bombing in Beirut. Her antagonistic tone when he’d tried to talk to her about what was wrong. Her animosity the night he’d confronted her. “Eve—”
She stepped back, out of his reach. “You’re not like me and Carter and everyone else in the Company. You believe that one life has value, whether that life is a child or an adult or an innocent or even a suspect. And you have a clear dividing line between right and wrong. It’s why you left the Agency. Not because you weren’t good—my God, you are good, and Aegis is lucky to have you. But you left because there is no gray area for you.”
He had. She was right. The life of a spy had not been what he’d expected, and by the time he’d gotten to Beirut, he knew he was going to leave. He’d been planning to turn in his resignation when his tour there was up. And then he’d met Eve, and his world had turned upside down.
“My whole life is gray areas,” she went on. “There is no right or wrong for me. There’s only what’s needed to get the information for the next op.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
She moved back again, and disbelief coated her features. “Don’t you get it, Zane? I’ve sat back and watched things most people hope never to see. Prisoners being tied up and held in stress positions for hours on end, being subjected to hypothermia, sleep deprivation, even waterboarding. I stood by and watched when they were screaming for mercy. And I did it because it was acceptable—they were the bad guys and we were the good, and that made it okay. But it didn’t stop there.”
She paused, and he could see that there was more. Something she didn’t want to tell him. Regret brewed in her beautiful eyes. “The contact you saw me with in Beirut . . . I knew he was planning to hit a high-profile target somewhere in the city. I knew, and I let him go anyway. I was waiting for more information from him about the mole. I made the decision that a few people dying in a random car bombing didn’t matter in the long run when I was facing a compromised officer who could be feeding US secrets to terrorist cells. I made the choice. Me. No one else.”
The school. That bastard had gone on to blow up a school US aid had helped rebuild. Dozens of children had died. And she could have stopped him. His words to her in that warehouse, when he’d accused her of being a traitor, filled his head and wrapped ice-cold fingers around his heart. “Eve—”
“No, don’t.” She took another step toward the door. Toward freedom. “You said it wasn’t my fault what happened to Carter and Natalie? Maybe it wasn’t directly, but indirectly it was. They were in that park today because of me. They’re dead now because they tried to help me. Not you. Not anyone else. And if something were to happen to you because of me”—her voice caught, and she closed her mouth briefly—“I couldn’t live with myself.”
Warmth filled his chest and radiated outward through his limbs. In a moment of panic, when he’d had her tied to that chair in the warehouse, she’d admitted that she’d once loved him. But he hadn’t believed her, not really. Now he did. Now he knew that what held her back wasn’t lack of emotion, but the exact opposite.