the attention of every pedestrian and driver we pass.
I try not to let on that the pins and needles are pecking away at my midsection as he pulls me along. “I’m fine.”
“Half a block,” he grits, picking up the pace.
I’m going to feel this tomorrow.
“Cole?” My breaths are shallow. “If they traced your phone, they’re going to know where you’ve been and where you parked.”
His dark eyes roam the landscape in front of us. “I know, sweetness. Almost there. I’m going to get you in the car first and then we’ll get the hell out of here.”
“I’m more than capable of getting in the car. We can get out faster.”
“Not the time to argue, Bella,” he mutters.
Jarvis’s Porsche comes into view in a parking lot dotted with cars. I don’t see anyone as its lights flash and beeps sound when Cole unlocks the doors. I try to twist my hand out of his but he’s having none of it. When he reaches for my passenger door, both of us almost twirl in unison when we hear a car door slam across the lot.
Cole steps in front of me and stuffs the key fob into my open palm as voices fill the night from six spaces over. I’m about to reach for the switchblade in my clutch until those voices turn to laughter through the dark.
Loud, drunk, annoying laughter.
“Get in,” he demands, and I can’t pretend any longer—my midsection is aching. As much as I’ve complained about being in Virginia, I’m ready to get back to Cole’s bed.
He gets in and is pulling out of the parking lot as I’m still hooking my safety belt.
“Explain why the CIA would track your phone and come looking for you on a Saturday night.”
He exhales a huge breath. “It’s complicated.”
I grip the console as he speeds through DC streets as if he has diplomatic immunity, which he absolutely does not, otherwise his employer wouldn’t be chasing him. “Ah, yes. Well, that’s interesting and thank you for not elaborating since I already know everything you do for a living. It’s not as if you’ve ever respected the boundaries of your employment. Case in point, the coatroom twenty minutes ago.”
His eyes are sharp on the road but he doesn’t hesitate at my words. “You liked it.”
Beyond the point. “Tell me why your boss is after you.”
“Fuck,” he mutters when the light ahead of us turns red and he can’t run it like he has the previous two because of perpendicular traffic. He slams on the brakes and I press my hand onto my midriff from the pain as the sports car screeches to a stop.
I look into the passenger side mirror and see the open road behind us. “I’m sure we’re fine but if you could tell me what’s going on, I’d appreciate it. If we get into a scuffle, it would be nice to know why.”
He reaches for the only cell he has left on him and stares at the black screen. Wheels turn under his thick head of hair when he mutters to himself, “Would they ping me illegally?”
“You think? I mean, Crew does it, but he’s not held by any sort of oath.”
He looks at me. “Who the fuck knows. I’m in the capitol of my own fucking country, I work for the CIA, and apparently my boss is after me because I won’t put a hit on an American veteran who, from my digging, has done nothing wrong.”
I gasp. “That’s what this is about?”
He nods. “I told them I ordered the hit, but I didn’t. Crew is looking into him and so am I. We have no clue why they want him dead.”
“Bloody hell,” I mutter and sit back in my seat.
“Bloody hell, is right,” he shoots back.
I shift to him and am about to open my mouth to lambast the CIA and British Intelligence for what they’ve done to both of us, when I see it…
I can honestly admit, not many moments as a spy have surprised me. Preparation, training, and research before an operation is key, not only to be successful, but coming out on the other end alive and in one piece. Have I had to adapt to surprising situations? Clearly. But adapting and reacting are two very different beasts to deal with on the fly.
That’s why when I see it, my words echo around us in an eerie shrill.
“Go, dammit!”
I grip his forearm at the same time Cole shifts his eyes to his window. One moment we’re alone