Page 19 of A Touch of Treachery (Section 47 #3)

Even now, all these years later, I could still hear the sharp crack of Bryce’s shot and the woman’s muffled scream of pain, along with the heavy thump of her body hitting the floor.

I could still smell the coppery tang of her blood and feel the hot, sticky liquid gushing over my hands as I tried and failed to keep her from bleeding out . . .

I blinked, forcing myself to focus on Charlotte.

“Bryce said it was no big loss. That the woman was taking Ellis’s money, so that made her just as dirty as he was.

I lost it. I threw myself at Bryce and started punching him.

He tried to fight back, but even with his enduro magic, I was still faster, stronger, and angrier.

I got Bryce down on the floor. Broke his nose, broke his jaw, split his lips. ”

Charlotte eyed me. “You gave Bryce the scar through his left eyebrow and on his cheek.”

I gave a short, sharp nod. “Yes. I was still punching him when the Section support team arrived. I would have killed Bryce if the other agents hadn’t dragged me off him.”

Once again, the coppery scent of blood flooded my nose, and the thwack-thwack-thwacks of my fists slamming into Bryce’s face banged in my ears like a drum, punctuated by his pain-filled groans.

That long-ago rage bubbled up and sizzled through my veins like an acidic poison corrupting every part of me it touched.

Charlotte stepped closer and threaded her arm through mine. Once again, I drew in one breath after another, just drinking in the blue of her. Slowly, my rage faded away, although the ugly memories remained, like pictures stuck on the wall of my mind.

“Bryce filed a complaint against me, but the General pulled some strings and had it dismissed. After that, Bryce and I went on a few more missions together, but he hated me, and I hated him. On our last mission, some weapons and cash went missing.”

“Do you think Bryce stole them?”

“I don’t know. No one could ever prove anything, but Bryce was forced to resign from Section a few weeks later.”

Another bitter laugh burst from my lips. “First Bryce Finkley and then Trevor Donnelly. Two cleaners I worked with for years. Bryce killed an innocent hostage, and Trevor set me up to be murdered multiple times. I’m really shitty at picking friends, aren’t I?”

Charlotte shook her head. “Bryce shooting the hostage wasn’t your fault. He made that choice, not you, Desmond.”

“I know that, but I still feel responsible. Just like I do for Graham’s death.” I let out a tense breath. “And I made the choice to attack Bryce. I also broke Section’s rules of engagement, and that’s entirely on me.”

We both fell silent, and we reached Charlotte’s apartment building a few minutes later. She stopped under a streetlight, the glow bringing out the warm highlights in her auburn hair.

I cupped her cheeks in my hands and stroked my thumbs over her smooth, silky skin. “I’m sorry you had such a terrible day. And I’m especially sorry my father is such an overbearing jackass.”

She covered my hands with her own. “Right back at you, Dundee. Although sadly, I think overbearing jackasses are the norm in the spy world.”

I smiled a little at her joke, then leaned down and kissed her. Charlotte’s lips were chilled from our walk, as were mine, but the heat of her body washed over my own, and I sank into her welcoming warmth.

Right now, for this moment, there was no Section 47, no overbearing father, no mysterious new nemesis. Just Charlotte and me and the way we felt about each other.

I tilted my head and pulled her closer, and her tongue darted out to stroke against mine.

Charlotte tasted like the cake she’d eaten, rich chocolate and bright strawberry.

I relished the heady mix of flavors, along with her scent, which always reminded me of sugar and limes swirled together.

On Charlotte, it was the perfect sweet-tart perfume.

Then again, just about everything about Charlotte was perfect, from the way her body molded against mine to her soft gasps to the bright crackle of her aura, which was sparking with the same desire zinging through my own body.

A minute later, we broke apart, both of us breathing hard.

“You should come inside,” she whispered, digging her fingers into my coat. “We haven’t properly broken in some of my new furniture yet.”

Temptation surged through me, and I smoothed a lock of hair back over her shoulder.

“I want to, more than you know. But right now, it’s better if I keep my distance.

The General will have his own spies watching everything we do inside Section.

Maybe outside too. He’ll be looking for an excuse to get rid of you, and I’m not going to give it to him.

I know how important being an analyst is to you, and I would never do anything to jeopardize that. ”

Charlotte drew back, a stubborn look filling her face. “Don’t worry about me. Your father might have demoted me to level three, but I’ll keep poking around. Between the two of us, we’re bound to find Henrika sooner or later.”

“Well, let’s hope for all our sakes it’s sooner. And that my father will leave on another mission the minute Henrika is captured.”

Charlotte’s stubbornness melted into sympathy, and the same emotion pulsed off her aura, once again acting like a soothing balm to my own soul.

Charlotte had issues with her father too, and we both had hidden wounds and deep, aching scars from our work for the spy agency.

Such things were just part of the Section legacies we carried with us, for better or worse.

I kissed Charlotte again, then forced myself to step back. “I’ll see you tomorrow at headquarters. Good night, Numbers.”

“Good night, Dundee.”

I gave Charlotte a small, tight smile, then turned up the collar of my coat to ward off the cold, spun around, and walked away. I didn’t look back, but I wondered at all the pieces of my heart I was leaving behind—far more than I realized Charlotte had accumulated in our time together.