small talk. I’m trained to kill, and whether you like it or not, we’re in this. Together. Until the end.”
Her hands balled at her sides as the pulse at her throat careened out of control. “Well, I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit, but no one ever asked me that, did they? No. They decided what was best for them, and once more I was trussed up to do their bidding.”
Her fury cleaved his reserve, spilling it out in burning rage. He rounded the table to her. “You think I volunteered for this? Spending my afternoons strolling around Naziville while breaking bread with Hitler without being able to put a bullet in his head. You think I like leaving my men to train themselves while I play sitter to two spoiled English girls who haven’t the sense to stay back where they belong? You’ve very poor sighted to see only yourself as an object for use.”
Her lips curled into a sneer. “A mistake I am more than ready to rectify. We’ll no longer be in the way, and you can get back to doing what you do best. No more museum dates or late-night parties to throw you off.”
“What I do best is stop this war from continuing another month longer, and right now the best way I can do that is play the adoring suitor to you. You leave, and it’s all for naught. No more parties, which means no more information gathered.” Heat boiled up his neck, roasting the skin behind his ears as he stepped close enough to feel her punctuated breaths blasting across his face. “But why should you care? You’ve got a nice home and pretty clothes to return to. Who cares if the boys out in the field freeze another winter? No, your only duty is whatever your father dictates to you.”
Her palm cracked the side of his face. Fire ricocheted to the bone. Kat stumbled back as horror poured down her face.
Turning away, Barrett walked to the balcony door and pressed a hand to the window. Anger boiled down his veins, ticking his pulse hard enough to shatter the trembling glass. Outside, rain pummeled its enraged fists against the surrounding buildings before slamming into the street like a convulsing river.
He clenched his hand, desperate to gain control before the tidal wave of rage washed him down into the whirlpool below. With her one selfish decision, she’d torn up any hope of him starting over once his sentence was served. He’d go back to the same place and the same people who never expected anything to come out of him besides a good pint. And what then? Slip into the mindless rut of drinking away his problems while cursing the scraps life had thrown his way? No. That was his da, not him.
And her? Wasn’t she slipping herself back into the same places with the same narrow-minded people who expected her to marry, keep her mouth shut, and do as she was told? Didn’t she deserve to prove them wrong too? He flattened his hand against the cool glass. For so long he’d tried to keep her as his paid ticket to freedom, but without realizing it, she’d bared her invaluableness to him. Only together could they prove it to the rest of the world.
“We have the chance to turn this war. It saddens me that—”
“—that I’m walking out.”
“—that you don’t think you’re clever enough to finish the task.”
He turned back to her. She stood with her hands clasped tightly to her stomach. The candlelight flickered against her pale skin, drawing her eyes back into the shadows.
“I’m sorry I struck you.”
“I’ve been slapped before.”
Her head lifted. Remorse lined the edges of her mouth. “Not by me. I’ve never hit anyone.”
Raising a hand to his cheek, he rubbed the stinging spot that was sure to sport a red handprint until next week. “Pretty good for a beginner. If my gun jams tomorrow, just slap Hitler’s head off.”
The uncertainty from moments before dropped. Her spine straightened until she looked ready to snap in half. “Are you really going to kill him?”
“Would you stop me?”
Her stare pierced him like a steely knife. Instinctively, his shoulders rolled forward, tensing for the assault. The wind howled behind him, counting down the eternity of minutes it took for her to finally answer. “I’m not sure.”
“It’s a simple yes-or-no situation.”
“But it isn’t, is it?” She walked slowly toward him, her bare feet silent on the plush rug. Her