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As for rekindling anything with Paige? Out of the question. Not that she’d be interested. He’d torched that when he strode into the dean’s office.
“Get me out, and I’ll help you find Jason,” he rehearsed under his breath. Simple. Straightforward. No need for explanations or apologies she wouldn’t believe anyway.
The irony wasn’t lost on him. He’d pushed Paige away to protect her, and now he needed her to save him. But she didn’t need to know that. Didn’t need to know the depths he’d sunk to in service of his cover.
He’d have to keep her close, without letting her get close. He shook his head. What a mess.
Cody checked his watch. Almost time. He steeled himself for the confrontation to come. Whether Paige believed in him or not didn’t matter. This was business, plain and simple.
At least, that’s what he told himself as he scanned the crowd, his heart rate quickening at the thought of seeing her again.
His breath caught as he spotted Paige approaching the fountain. His gaze swept over her, cataloging every detail.
Shoulder-length black hair. Bright pink streak. Check.
Five-six. Buck twentyish. Stunning figure. Check.
She looked the same. Only better.
How was that possible?
“Still rocking the pink streak,” he murmured, a smile tugging at his lips despite himself.
She was a vision, her lithe figure weaving through the crowd with unconscious grace. Time had only enhanced her beauty.
The casino’s bustling Saturday night crowd provided ample cover. Bodies pressed together, the din of voices and slot machines creating a cacophonous shield. He eyed the exits again, mapping his escape route in case Paige had baited a trap. The bathroom downstairs held his ticket to anonymity—a wig and fresh shirt that would render him invisible, if necessary.
He watched as she reached the fountain, her dark eyes scanning the throng. Her fingers absently twirled a lock of hair. His heart clenched at the familiar gesture.
“Some things never change,” he whispered, fighting the urge to approach her.
Paige’s shoulders tensed, her gaze sharp as she assessed potential threats. Cody recognized the signs of her heightened awareness, a bittersweet reminder of the innocence she’d lost.
I did that to you, he thought, guilt gnawing at him. Or at least he’d started it. A decade in black ops pretty much solidified her caution.
Trust was a luxury neither of them could afford. The irony wasn’t lost on him.
Minutes ticked by. Paige’s shoulders slumped, disappointment evident in the line of her body. With a final glance around, she melted back into the crowd.
“Showtime,” he muttered, pushing away from the bar.
The cacophony of jackpot sirens and drunken laughter faded as he tapped his watch. “I need casino floor area 10 offline now. Re-engage in sixty seconds.”
The security feed blinked out.
He pushed through the crowd, cologne and cigarette smoke assaulting his nostrils as he caught up to Paige. His fingers closed around her arm, warm and soft beneath his grip. Her jasmine perfume, achingly familiar, threatened to break his composure.
“Well, hey there, Cody.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Long time, no see. I’m good. Great, actually. How about you?”
“Keep moving,” he growled, pulling her along.
He towed her to the back of the casino floor and into a corridor containing guest restrooms and doors to the service side of the operation. The noise of the crowd gave way to the muffled thud of their footsteps on plush carpet. Once he pushed through the double doors, the fancy décor disappeared, revealing metal stairs in a utilitarian hallway. The air cooled as they descended, the scent of cleaning products replacing the smoky haze above.
“Oh, I see. We’re going for the grand tour,” Paige continued, her breath warm against his ear. “Down into the depths we go. How very ... subterranean of you.”
“Quiet,” he hissed, but his grip on her arm loosened slightly.
She was narrating their journey for her team listening in over comms. It didn’t matter. Where he was taking her, they’d be out of reach.