Lyse’s heart gave a kick that took her breath. She rubbed at her chest a moment. “A few weeks.” It was the truth, though not wholly honest. Lyse knew to the day how long it had been since she’d first made contact with Siobhan.
Siobhan nodded. “I remember you walking into the post office like it happened yesterday.”
Lyse had ordered coffee online. It had always been a weakness. Her fellow geeks in the tech department didn’t care if the coffee tasted like sludge, but Lyse had always figured if she was going to run on caffeine, it should at least taste good.
Siobhan worked the counter at the post office. After the third package, she’d invited Lyse to the French patisserie, a more local option for coffee.
“Fionn obviously believes you were after finagling your way into my life, but we both know better.” Because Siobhan never met a stranger. “So why don’t you tell me your side of his story, and let’s get things straight up front?”
Lyse took a deep breath, hoping it would calm her. Give her courage. It didn’t. She turned to face Siobhan. “What he said was true. I did set a bomb. And he was almost killed.”
Siobhan stared into her eyes for a long moment, seeming to take her own measure. “But not for the reasons Fionn thinks.”
“Fionn…” What did her motives matter? What she’d done, that was what mattered. Motives could’ve gotten him killed despite how hard she tried to save him. “It doesn’t matter,” she finally said.
Siobhan scoffed, then nodded toward the bread. “Bring that to the table.”
Some of Lyse’s tension eased. Siobhan would drop it now. She would believe Fionn, turn away from Lyse, and when the time came for Fionn to drag Lyse back to the States to face charges, Siobhan wouldn’t feel torn between the two of them. She could continue on, happy, and Lyse wouldn’t carry one more regret on the pile that already threatened to crush her.
After setting the bread on the table, Lyse sat in the chair across from Siobhan and cupped her warm coffee in her palms. Siobhan passed her a plate. “Food, then talk.”
Of course. “Siobhan…”
Siobhan pointed the fork she was using to dish up bacon at Lyse. “Don’t be arguing.”
Siobhan had the whole mom argue-with-me-and-you’ll-regret-it thing down. But even that force of will couldn’t keep Lyse’s stomach from rebelling, so she focused on the warmth of her coffee instead of the food in front of her. “What do you want to know?”
“How close were you and Fionn before?”
Not nearly as close as I wanted? “We were colleagues. I was the head of the tech department at Global First.”
“I always knew you were way smarter than you were lettin’ on,” Siobhan said. She nibbled a piece of bread. “So what’s the story?”
Lyse focused on the rich brown of the liquid in her cup. “Fionn’s best friend, Deacon, was targeted by a crime lord from South Africa. He’d killed the man’s son a couple of years before while trying to rescue an American senator and his family. Mansa took exception to the loss of his heir, criminal or not.”
“So he came after Deacon?”
“Yes.”
“And where does the bomb come in?”
Lyse swallowed hard. “Mansa was the kind of man who could find spies anywhere.”
“And you were his spy?”
Siobhan’s tone said she doubted that, but it wasn’t far off the truth, was it? “No, I am—” She swallowed hard, wishing her stomach wasn’t in knots so she could drink her coffee instead of staring at it. “No. Someone at Global First…they found out something about me, something they could use against me. Use to get me to do what they wanted.”
She could feel the intensity of Siobhan’s stare despite refusing to look at the woman. Long moments passed. “They threatened someone you love.”
“How did you know?” Lyse whispered, the words low and ragged.
“Because I know you,” Siobhan said. “What happened exactly?”
So Lyse told her—about the contact, the target, about the bomb and the birthday party, trying desperately to get everyone out of the way. “Buildings are replaceable,” she said. “People aren’t.”
“It was a sound plan,” Siobhan agreed. “Give the bastard what he was wanting without really giving him what he was wanting. So what went wrong?”
Lyse cleared her throat. “Fionn.” Even when she fell in love with him, he’d thrown a wrench in her plans. He’d never stopped. “He and Deacon showed up to visit Trapper. I tried to get them away, to keep them safe. I tried so hard.”
The cup shook in her hand as memories flashed in her mind—fear, panic, pain. Coffee sloshed over the side, singeing the burns her hand already bore from Sean’s soup. Siobhan’s cool hand settled over Lyse’s, stilling it. “Lyse.” A napkin appeared in her view as Siobhan dabbed gently at her skin. “Give me the cup, dear.”
Lyse didn’t want to. Without the cup she had nothing to hold on to, nothing to focus on, give her a center. She would go back to that stupid girl whose hands always fluttered as she tried desperately to figure out how to fit in, what to do next, how to hide the embarrassing emotions that only proved how unworthy and awkward she was. She didn’t want to be that girl anymore.
And yet she couldn’t resist Siobhan’s gentle insistence. She pried the cup away, but she didn’t leave Lyse’s hands empty; she replaced the coffee with her own grip, steadying Lyse despite her story. Despite knowing the truth of the awful things she had done.
“It was Fionn, wasn’t it?”
Lyse jerked her head up, her gaze slamming into Siobhan’s. “What?”
“The threat they used against you. It was Fionn.”
It was a statement, not a question, but that wasn’t possible. No one knew. Lyse had never spoken the words aloud, not even that night when Elliot Smith had questioned her. Not that Elliot hadn’t figured
