Page 33

We walk until we find a café opening for the day.

“You hungry?”

“Can I trust you not to poison me?” I’m only half-serious.

He shrugs. “Poison’s not really my MO, but there’s a first time for everything.”

We walk into the café. White stone walls and a hodgepodge of chairs and small tables dot the space. It’s cute and homey. Weboth get coffee. I order a croissant and a granola yogurt bowl, he orders porridge. I hand over the euros, earning a side stare from Dimitri.

“Don’t pay for my food.” He dips his head. “You’ve done more than enough.”

“Well, you used to throw extra money in my paychecks whenever you were pissed at Sveti—which happened a lot. I’d say this makes us even.”

We take a table far from the door. Neither of us wants our back to the entrance, so we slide the chairs around to avoid blind spots. I don’t have to explain why I don’t like sitting next to the door or windows. He just gets it.

He dips his head. “You never answered my question last night. How much of you is real?”

“My real name is Katie. I’m from North Carolina.” I slip into the real accent I’ve tried burying for a year. “I was recruited by the CIA right out of college, thrown into a different program, and this is my longest undercover mission.”

He turns away, unable to hide his feelings of betrayal. “You were using me?”

“Well, I had you under surveillance for two months before I started working for you. In fact, I was only supposed to do surveillance, like Markus. But one of the field agents broke her leg, and I was sent in instead. I needed to get information about your family, crimes—yadda, yadda, yadda. But I spent more time intercepting attacks on your club than anything else.” The carpet stains seem easier to focus on than my confession. “I’m not sure who your family pissed off, but I tried to hold them off for as long as possible.”

“Why would you uproot your whole life for this mission?”

“I was running away from a broken heart.” I exhale, disappointed in my story. “I was young and in love—or so I thought. I ignored all the advice and became his bride. And whenit went tits-up like everyone said it would, he left me with a cat and a shit-ton of debt I’m still paying off.”

His jaw tightens, and his fingers flex. I can’t tell what he’s mad about.

“But everything else was real.”

He scoffs but stops and smirks. “Do you even like otters?”

I place my hand on my chest. “Sir, you dishonor me. I would lie about my identity and my combat skills, but never about my love of otters.” I pause. “But I could do without cats.”

Our coffee and food arrive, and I swear to God, this is the best coffee I’ve ever had. I shimmy my shoulders—something Katie used to do, but Katya never would.

Halfway through my croissant, the burner phone comes to life. We both stare at it like it’s a sleeping dragon, afraid to move and wake it.

But if it’s Markus on the other end of the line, I have to answer.

“Hello?”

The gruff voice responds, “Jarad from accounting farts when he walks.”

I reply, “I was trapped in an elevator with him.”

In the background, Uri yells, “Seriously? How fucking immature are you?”

“It’s easy to remember,” Markus snaps back. Then he grumbles, “Should’ve let you burn.”

Uri calls out again, “Bitch, I saved you!”

Markus fires back, “Holy fuck, you did not.”

Dimitri laughs—a big, booming laugh that seems to come from his soul. “God, Uri’s such a pain in the ass.”

“Is there anyone else with you?” I ask.