“Will you get in trouble for telling me this?”
Cole shares a look with Trace, and something unspoken passes between them.
“We’re making a judgment call.” Trace bends forward and meets my eyes. “You’re aware of the breach that resulted in stolen information.”
“You mean the revenge mission against Cole?”
“Yes. The photos were delivered to you because someone hacked into Cole’s records and gleaned your contact information.”
“Is that person—?”
“The perpetrator is imprisoned. We’ll come back to that.” Cole lifts the folder from my lap and sets it on the coffee table. “As you know, I can’t share details about my job, but the problem is you’ve seen things.”
“The pictures of the dead body.” In my house. I shiver.
“That’s right.” Cole watches me carefully, his face inches from mine. “Trace and I decided it’s better if you have the facts rather than no information at all, or worse, the wrong assumptions.” He pulls in a breath. “The world we were part of isn’t a place I want you anywhere near, and that’s not going to change. You need to understand that your safety has always been my number one concern.”
“And mine.” Trace stares coldly at Cole.
Cole sets his jaw. “I’m going to share some details of my last mission. I can’t tell you much about the operation itself, but I’ll shed some light on the events that impacted you.”
“Like your fake death?” My chest clenches.
“Yeah.” He drags a hand through his hair and settles back on the couch. “Trace already told you I’m an operative.”
“Ex-operative.” I tug at the hem of my sweater. “I thought you were retired.”
“Let me ask you something.” Cole rubs his chin, studying me. “If you closed your dance company and pursued a new career, would you be an ex-dancer?”
“No.” I jerk back my head. “I’ll always be a dancer. It’s who I am.”
“Same principle applies here. Retirement doesn’t change my DNA or mental make-up.”
Beneath the dimples and soft brown eyes lives the muscle and heart of a soldier. A man who thrives on adrenaline and mystery.
And he gave it up for me.
Then I left him.
My heart thumps heavily, making a slow crawl to my stomach. “You miss it.”
“Not as much as I miss you.”
I close my eyes and press a hand to my mouth, covering the quiver in my chin.
“What about you, Trace?” I whisper, peering at the quiet man beside me. “Do you miss it?”
“Sometimes.” He grips my wrist, tugging my hand away from my face. “I miss the rush of a difficult mission and the invigoration that comes with success. But the past year hasn’t been without its own challenges and thrills.” His eyes glimmer. “You’ve given me the biggest fight of my life, and I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to win.”
“We’ll see about that.” Cole scoffs.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “So you’re an operative and…?”
“I’m a deep undercover operative.” Cole gives me a pointed look. “Retired from a clandestine group that’s deployed all over the world.”
“I suspected the undercover part.” I lean back on the couch, letting his words soak in. “But I don’t really know what it means. What does an undercover operative do?”
“Information gathering.”
“Like what?” I imagine him stealing access codes or military secrets, but that’s Hollywood shit.
“When the U.S. sends in the tip of the spear to some beach or undisclosed location, who do you think provides the information to the SEALs on where to land their ships or parachutes?”
“You?” The air whooshes from my lungs.
“It’s a trite example, but yes. Sometimes we feed them the intelligence on where to drop and who to strike.”
“The eyes and ears in the shadows,” Trace murmurs.
My imagination runs wild as I picture Trace sitting in a spartan control room, talking to Cole on high-tech communication devices. Of course, Cole would be dressed head to toe in black, maybe some black paint on his face and weapons concealed beneath his clothes as he runs across dangerous terrain in the dead of night. In the distance, bombs explode and bad guys die.
I shake my head. “It’s nothing like what I’m imagining, is it?”
“It’s not like the movies.” He tucks my hair behind my ear, letting his touch linger on my neck.
My breath falters, and I lean away. “Did you do this undercover work behind enemy lines?”
He lowers his hand and stares across the room, his eyes losing focus. “The last mission embedded me deep within the enemy’s ranks.”
When he doesn’t continue, I sneak a peek at Trace. His gaze is stark and fixed on the folder of papers.
Whatever happened on Cole’s mission put into effect a series of events that changed the course of our lives. If Cole returned when he was supposed to, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with Trace. I’d be happily married to Cole and oblivious. Maybe I would’ve met Trace down the line, but I wouldn’t have seen him as anything other than Cole’s best friend.
There would’ve been no Trace and me.
“When I was planted inside the inner circle of the target,” Cole says quietly, “I used an assumed identity for the purposes of gaining trust and information. Nine months into the operation, my cover was blown.”
“How?” My stomach turns to ice.
“I’ll get to that.” He clasps his hands together between his knees. “When the leak occurred, I had to sever connections and find a place to hole up. I was running and hiding from the target I infiltrated, as well as the person who ratted me out. I couldn’t contact you or Trace. Didn’t know who was watching me. I couldn’t risk anyone learning my true identity, where I lived, and who was important to me until the threat was neutralized.”
“But someone learned you had a girlfriend.” The bloody images of the dead man in my house flash through my head.
“Yes. That someone was one of our own, an operative like myself.” Cole clenches his hands. “The traitor was the woman in the photos.”
The naked woman in the photos didn’t just blow Cole’s cock. She blew his cover. She is the reason he disappeared for four years. An angry wave of heat flushes through me as my mind swims to fit the pieces together.
“The day those pictures were delivered, you said the woman was a defector.” My legs bounce with the urge to pace, but I remain on the couch, wedged between Cole and Trace. “Was she with you on the last mission?”
“Yes.” Cole scrubs a hand over the back of his head. “We were assigned together often, because we worked well together.”
Given the variety of sexual positions in the photos, they fucked well together, too.
“You went on that mission…” My lungs slam together, choking my voice. “You left me, knowing you’d spend a year with a woman you had sex with?”
“I didn’t have a choice!” Cole launches from the couch. “They say jump, and I fucking jump. That’s how it works. I don’t choose the missions or the team I’m working with.”
I look to Trace for validation.
“It’s true.” Trace glowers back at me, his tone firm yet soft. “When I talked to him before he left, he was upset about being paired with her.”
“I knew she’d be a problem.” Cole paces through the room.
“Because you were involved?” I ask, resigned.
“We were never involved. When we were on assignments for months at a time, she scratched an itch. That’s all it was.”
“I have a feeling it was more than an itch to her.” I drag my hands through my hair, emotionally drained. “What’s her name?”
“It’s classified.”
“Did she make a move on you during the last mission?”
“Yes, and I turned her down.” He pauses beside the coffee table, his face lined with frustration. “She doesn’t like to be denied, but I made damn sure she understood I wasn’t interested.”