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But what was not mentioned in the emails was how much the mission had meant to her. She had learned so much about herself during that op. It had been one of the most significant and consequential jobs of her life.
Getting to know Tomás had been a revelation. The bright, articulate, and charming seven-year-old had woven a place in her heart, and she would have gladly died for him. And she almost had.
It was also during this time that she was beginning to recognize her deep feelings for Hawke. She had kept all these thoughts to herself. This Dove22 impersonator knew nothing about them.
This person did not know the real Olivia Gates. The writer of the emails continued to complain about Hawke’s harsh treatment and stringent rules. If she hadn’t known better, she’d say a spoiled, bratty teenager had written them.
It was after three in the morning when Olivia turned off the light and lay down on the bed. Her mind was an active hive of thoughts, and though there was no way she would sleep, she gave herself permission to cry. If she had seen those emails when Hawke and Kate had first seen them, she could have pointed out the inconsistencies and the obvious manipulation of the intel. Yes, they contained facts and data that only someone on the team should have known. But whoever had designed this hoax hadn’t known her. Not really.
As the tears poured out, she hugged herself tight and thought about all she and Hawke had lost. If he had just come to her, she could have proved her innocence. But he hadn’t. He had assumed she was a traitor. A liar. A killer.
The last few emails she’d seen had been the most damning of all.
Dove22: New job a bore. Got any action?
Z: Interested in making a killing?
The double entendre hadn’t been lost on her. The emails had gone on to mention that R was in M, and he needed to disappear. Was she up to the task?
Dove22 had answered in the affirmative. Days later, Rio had been murdered in Ixtapa, Mexico. His killer had never been caught.
Hawke had said that someone fitting her description had been spotted close to where Rio’s body was discovered. Had that been part of the hoax, too?
A gap of several months had passed before another email arrived, indicating that L was now in the Music City. Was she interested?
Layla had been killed in Nashville, known as the Music City, a few days after the date on that email.
Yes, it looked damning, and yes, she wanted answers. But dammit, it hadn’t been her! Why hadn’t he seen that? How could the man she had shared every intimacy with believe she was this Dove22? A cold, heartless murderer.
Around five, she got up and showered. She brushed her teeth and combed her hair, all without looking at herself in the mirror. She knew she looked like hell, and she just didn’t care.
She dressed, grabbed the damning papers, and walked out the door.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Someone pounding on the door before dawn was never a good sign. Hawke figured he’d slept maybe forty-five minutes the whole night, and he was not ready for whatever it was. Didn’t really matter, because whoever was on the other side of that door was not going to stop until the entire house was awake.
He pulled the door open. One look at Olivia’s puffy, red eyes and the pages she had grasped in her hand, and he said softly, “Shit.”
“Exactly.”
She pushed him back and Hawke shut the door behind her.
“Kate shouldn’t have given you those.”
“You’re right. She shouldn’t have. You should have. Three years ago, or whenever this first came to light.”
“Sit down.” He nodded to the sofa. “You want some coffee?”
“No, I don’t want coffee. I want answers!”
Instead of replying, he went to the alcove across the room and turned on the small coffee machine. Whether she wanted coffee or not, he did. He glanced back, noting the droop of her shoulders and the prominent dark circles beneath her eyes. Turning around, he took down another mug from the cabinet, grabbed a tea bag, and switched the function of the machine to hot water. In less than a minute, he was pouring steaming water into the mug.
He switched the machine back to coffee mode, then took the hot water and tea bag to Olivia. He set them on the table beside the sofa and handed her two pills and a glass of cold water.
“What’s this for?”
“Headache.”