to feel, and I don’t know how to change.”
“Funny, you weren’t hard and cold at all when you were with us,” he said quietly. “You were warm, and you seemed to care for us. I don’t think anyone could fake the passion we all shared in bed, either. I thought you were falling for Jude, too. I wonder who the real Lily is.”
The question cut deep.
The answer was, she had no idea.
Sixteen
Jude didn’t awaken so much as he ascended from the depths of hell. His teeth chattered. So cold. He hurt so bad, his internal organs giving up the ghost. It was like he could feel his system winding down, like the lights in a house being turned off one by one.
Death would be a blessing.
After all these years of living on the edge, expecting a bullet in the head, to go out like this, in a sneak attack, was a rich irony. He’d lived hard and played harder, and he’d die with barely a whimper.
Focusing on his surroundings, he listened. He could have sworn Lily was talking to him. Saying she loved him and asking for his forgiveness.
Was it as simple as that? Could two people fight past something like this? Could he trust her?
Did it matter?
Seeking some relief from the pain, he rolled to his side. As he did, footsteps approached on a hard surface and Lily spoke softly.
“You’re awake. I won’t ask how you feel.”
“Where are we?”
“ Tennessee, at the safe house.”
He digested this.
“How many men have you eliminated with the poison?” He hadn’t intended to ask, but some perverse part of him wanted to know. “I’m not accusing you. I know it’s your job, but I’m just curious.”
“That’s macabre.”
“Humor me.”
“Two.”
“So few?” He was surprised.
“Well, you know as well as I that it’s not wise to use the same method too often. Unlike you, perched atop a building somewhere with a scope, I go in close. People remember.”
“Who were they?”
“You know I can’t tell you that. But they were working with terrorists. They were a threat to all Americans.”
“So I was in good company, then.”
The legs of a chair scraped and she leaned close, caressing his face. “No. I thought so at first. I have to believe in a target’s guilt to my bones, but with you… looking back, I know I never really believed. I didn’t want to. I tried to tell myself I was going soft, letting my attraction to you cloud my thinking, responsibility to the job. But my heart was telling me that you couldn’t have done what Dietz said.”
“Lily…”
I love you.
But he couldn’t say that now. The timing wasn’t right.
“I forgive you.” He knew she needed the words. Her scent enveloped him as her arms came around him, a kiss brushing against his lips. “Thank you. You can’t know how much that means to me.”
“I know how I would feel if I learned I’d killed an innocent target,” he said. The idea sickened him.
“That’s always a possibility in our work.”
“With great power comes great responsibility.”
“So true. Who wrote that?”
“Spider-Man, I think.”
“Seriously.”
“I
“No!” she blurted, voice hitching.
“Listen-”
“I already know what you’re going to ask, and forget it.”
“You’d want me to suffer? I can’t live like this, if there’s no end to this agony. Say you’ll help me,” he entreated.
“Jude-”
“For me. To bring me peace.”
She didn’t answer for a long moment. When she did, he knew she was crying. “For you. But only if there’s no hope at all, which is unlikely. You’re going to recover.”
Reaching out, he skimmed her shoulder to her neck, then up to her face. Searched for the damned tears, wiping them with his thumb. “It means everything that you’d take care of me.”
Pop had cared for him, too. Had loved Jude enough to protect him from the human monsters of the world. He’d have done the same thing Lily had just agreed to do if he were still around for Jude to ask.
He’d flip open the cap on the old Zippo, cup his hands around his cigarette, and light up. Then flip the lid closed, put the lighter back in his pocket. He’d pin Jude with his piercing stare and say, “Whatever is best for you, boy. That’s all that ever mattered to me.”
Jude almost smiled at the image of Pop and that old lighter. His thoughts ground to a halt.
The lighter…
Jude ran a hand down his body to find he was still dressed in the same clothes he’d been wearing in Los Cabos. A check of his pocket revealed his grandfather’s beloved lighter resting there, as always.
And just like that, the rest of the puzzle fell into place.
“My God,” he said. He dug into his pocket. Pulled out the Zippo and rubbed the worn surface, smooth and shiny with age.
“What?”
Unbelievable. Maybe he was smarter than he’d thought. “What would you give for proof of Dietz’s theft of the weapon and his dealings with our enemies?”
“Anything. But-”
Smiling, Jude said, “Give me your hand.”
“Okay.” She sounded interested, but unsure.
He pressed the lighter into her palm, curled her fingers around it. “A gift from me. Keep it in case anything happens to me.”
“An old Zippo lighter?”
“Flip open the lid and look underneath, very closely.” He waited.
“I don’t see… wait. Is that-shit! Is that what I think it is?” she asked, excited.
“A microchip. With the sixth file on it.”
“How?” she asked in wonder.
“The chip is basically a wireless hard drive, not unlike what you’d find in a BlackBerry. It served the purpose in a tight fix.”
“I know. I mean, how did Dietz miss this?”
“I can only guess that when one of his men gathered my things in the motel room where they caught me, he glanced at the lighter, maybe even checked to see if it really worked, then discarded it as unimportant. He never looked under the lid, just tossed it into my bag, where it stayed.”
“Yes!” She launched herself, caught him in a fierce hug. “You’re wonderful, Agent St. Laurent.”
Tension thrummed between them, and his mouth found hers. In spite of the ghastly pain, he wanted a kiss. Even if he couldn’t do anything about finishing what they started right now.
She rubbed against him, taking the kiss deeper-
