iPad. “I snagged your records before they were deleted.”
“I know I was teaching when I left for Paris—but it’s not who I really was.” I consider that for a moment. “I think I was CIA. I took a time-out, or was suspended.” I glance at Kayden, suddenly afraid of what that means for us. Then I turn back to Blake. “Can you find out?”
“There’s no record of you being CIA,” he says. “None. Nothing that indicated a hiccup in your record.” He pulls a thumb drive from his pocket and slides it over to me. “That contains everything I have, but I’ll dig further.”
“Be careful,” Kayden warns. “Garner Neuville is a problem that we can’t have erupt.”
“I’m always careful.”
“The Jackals,” Kayden replies. “That’s all I’m going to say.”
“I’m handling them.” Blake sets a phone on the table. “This is a disposable phone that we can destroy after we use it. I’d like to call Sara and put her on with you.”
I glance at Kayden. “Is it safe?”
“If we destroy the phone, yes.”
“But I don’t know if I can ever see her again. Neuville will never stop coming, and—”
Kayden cups my head and kisses me. “Neuville is going to expire. He’s a temporary problem, and remember what we talked about. He doesn’t get to own you or your friend.” He glances at Blake. “Make the call. Ella, this is as much for you as for Sara.”
My heart starts pounding as Blake dials the phone. Then I hear, “Chris, it’s Blake. Listen. I need you to prepare Sara for good news. I have someone for her to talk to.” A pause. “Yes. She’s alive, but hiding. Right. Yes.” He hands me the phone. “He’s prepping her, so it will be a minute.”
I reach for it with a trembling hand and put it to my ear, standing and walking to the corner, listening to the silence. Kayden steps behind me, his hand at my waist. “Blake and I are going to step into the hallway. Talk as long as you like, but—”
“Less is more.”
He kisses my temple and walks away, the door closing behind them.
Another beat of silence follows, and then I hear Sara’s excited voice. “Ella!”
I start grinning and crying. “Yes! Yes, it’s me!”
“Oh my God. Oh my. God. Oh. My. God. Why can’t I stop saying ‘Oh my God’? Chris, it’s really her! I can’t believe it’s you, Ella!”
“Well, I had amnesia, so I wasn’t me for a while.”
“You’re in danger.”
“Yes, but I met a man and he’s amazing and—”
“Not David or Garner, right?”
“His name is Kayden. And I hear you have a sexy painter now. I saw his picture. He’s hot.”
“He’s so hot,” she says. “I’m so lucky. I wish you could have been at my wedding.”
“One day I’ll meet him, and you can meet Kayden. Tell me about him.”
“There’s so much I want to tell you about! About the storage unit, and Rebecca, the girl who owned it, and Chris—”
“I want to hear about Chris.”
She starts talking, and I talk, and we talk forever. Finally, though, it’s time to hang up. We say teary goodbyes, and I promise to call again. I break the phone open and pull out the chip inside, running it under water and then breaking it. And I know how to do that because I’m CIA. Or something that could mean I was after the necklace for my own reasons. And maybe I was investigating The Underground. Or Garner Neuville. Or both.
I walk to the door and open it, and the minute Kayden sees me he pulls me into his arms. “We are not enemies,” he says.
“But the CIA—”
“I have allies in every agency.” He cups my face. “And I’ve said it before and I will say it again. We choose if we are enemies.” He kisses me, and in that kiss there is demand. So much demand. And his demand is that I refuse to be his enemy.
To be continued in Surrender. . . .
Keep reading to see where it all started. The storage unit. The journal. Sara and Chris.
Start Sara's story with If I Were You—book one in the Inside Out series—now in development for TV with acclaimed producer Suzanne Todd (Alice in Wonderland).
If I Were You
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One
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Dangerous.
For months I’ve had dreams and nightmares about how perfectly he personifies the word. Sleep-laden, alternate realities where I can vividly smell his musky male scent, feel his hard body against mine. Taste the sweet and sensuous flavor of him—like milk chocolate