tongue slips into my mouth, silencing me. And despite
my mind fighting it, I can feel my body starting to thaw,
a wave of energy waking my slumbering body and
making my nipples stiffen against his chest. Between my
thighs, I’m aching for him.
He grips my white dress in one massive hand and
shreds it, leaving me nude. He’s naked too and I have a
glimpse of a thick, erect cock before he’s on top of me
again, pushing my legs apart. He pins my wrists. I
struggle as he tells me I want it. I struggle even as I
know he’s right.
And then I feel him, big and unstoppable, pressing for
entrance and—
I woke up with the covers twisted around me and my
panties damp.
And then, the next night, it happened again.
When the dreams came, they held back the nightmares.
If I was dreaming of Luka, I wasn’t dreaming of snow
and screaming and the sensation of falling.
But I wasn’t sure which one disturbed me more.
* * *
This was my life. I rode the bus to CIA headquarters
every morning, I listened to people’s private
conversations for eight hours, and I fantasized about a
man I’d never met. I rode the bus home again and read
books and went to sleep. I had no social life, let alone a
love life, because, ever since that day three years ago, I
didn’t seem to be able to connect to anyone. My life
ticked away one day at a time and none of it felt
remotely real or meaningful. The only real thing, to me,
was Luka’s voice.
Three years ago, I’d frozen inside, to shield me from the
pain. I felt numb and utterly alone. The closest thing I
had to a friend or a parent was Roberta, who I knew
would never let me even get close to field work.
That was my life.
And then, the next day, my life changed completely.
Lying and Kissing Chapter 3
I KEPT MY EYES on my screen when he walked in, but
then I pretended to glance at the clock so that I could
sneak a split-second glance at him. I looked back at my
screen and then closed my eyes and studied the mental
snapshot.
He was in his late fifties, with a charcoal-gray suit and a
white shirt that was soft at the creases, not hard and
sharp. Hazel eyes, whites a little bloodshot. He had an
expensive-looking red tie on with an ornamental tie clip.
I was too far away to read the lettering but it looked as
if it might have been from a college. Definitely not
anyone I’d seen before. I wondered if he was from a
level up, or even a level above that.
I have a photographic memory. It’s not as much fun as
it sounds. There are some things I’d rather forget.
“Arianna Scott?” he asked, like a teacher summoning a
student.
I slowly stood up. Roberta was standing next to the
guy, arms folded in that particular way that means she’s
really mad.
The guy studied me for a moment and then nodded to
himself. What? What does that mean?
“Follow me,” he told us. No please. The fact he could
speak that way to Roberta immediately placed him
several branches up the tree diagram. Up where the
cool stuff happens. I felt my heart shift up a gear.
It took two elevators and a walk to get to his office, and
every step took us further from the geeky, airless cave
where we toiled all day and closer to the CIA you see in
the movies. When I saw the sign on the door - Adam
Kinlen, Director, Special Activities Division, my heart
started full-on racing.
There was a window that looked out over a big, open-
plan office. People were busy at screens that showed
world maps, fingerprints, and photos. Some of them
had headsets on, talking to field agents thousands of
miles away. It was the real thing.
Roberta and I sat. Adam folded his hands behind his
back and stood staring out over his empire, either
unaware or uncaring that Roberta was glaring at him.
“Roberta speaks very highly of you, Arianna.” he told
me without turning around. “Hard worker, excellent
Russian skills and outstanding retention.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said. I could feel the heat rising in
my cheeks. “I’ve got a photographic memory. It’s easy
for me.”
He turned around at that. “Really?” He sounded
genuinely interested and enthusiastic. I was starting to
like him. “Close your eyes,” he said.
I closed my eyes.
“What’s on my desk?” he asked.
I wondered if it was a trick question, because that was
easy. “There’s a half-full glass of water, a sandwich that
looks like pastrami on rye, your computer, your phone,
a memo with a yellow post-it note stuck to it and a
classified report on the French Prime Minister. The
report has a coffee stain in the bottom-left corner. It
starts off, “We believe that he and his secretary—”
“That’s enough!” Adam said quickly.
I opened my eyes. Adam strode across the room,
grabbed the report and shoved it into a desk drawer.
Roberta was smirking.
Adam gave me a look that was halfway between
irritated and impressed. “Roberta also tells me you’re
eager to get out of support and into some field work.”
I glanced at Roberta. She gave me a look that very
clearly said no.
I looked through the window at the busy people doing
real intelligence work. I thought of another four hours of
transcription that afternoon.
I nodded.
“Good,” said Adam. “I think you’re wasted in support.”
And he gave me a smile that made my whole heart lift.
I mean, not in that way. He was old enough to be my
dad, if my dad had still been alive. But it felt as if he
really believed in me. “I want you to help us on a little
op. You can play the violin, right?”
I blinked. It had come so completely out of left field that
it took me a few seconds to answer. “Yes,” I said
hesitantly. “I mean, I haven’t for a while….”
“You’ll have a few days to practice,” he said. “You’re
twenty-two, correct?”
I nodded.
“I want to go on record as not liking this,” said Roberta.
“Arianna’s not a field agent.”
“She went through basic training,” Adam told her.
“There’s a reason they call it basic.”
“Ultimately, it’s up to Arianna,” said Adam. He grinned
at me. “Would you like to try? If it goes well, we can
look at gradually moving you over to field work.”
It sounded too good to be true. It was exactly what I’d
wanted. I glanced at Roberta and got the no look again.
I looked at Adam and he was a hundred and ten
percent yes.
I nodded. “I want to try,” I said firmly. “What would I
have to do?”
Adam’s smile grew even wider. “Let’s get you some
coffee while we talk.” Then he glanced at Roberta. “You
can go.”
I didn’t dare look at Roberta as she walked out. I
felt...disloyal? But that was crazy. This was good for my
career. She’d want me to progress, right?
“So,” said Adam. “Luka Malakov.”
Oh shit.
Lying and Kissing Chapter 4
MY FACE must have betrayed something because Adam
frowned. “You look like you know him.”
I shook my head, then nodded. “I just remember the
name from transcribing his calls,” I said weakly. You
know, like that one I listened to fifty-seven times.
Adam nodded sagely. “Do you know anything about
him?”
I shook my head and braced myself. I’d been curious all
this time but, suddenly, I didn’t want to know. I