Page 8

A light rain fell from the dark sky as Quinn and Braxton stepped out of the pub, and a misty shroud covered the City by the Bay. She wasn’t from San Francisco, but since she’d arrived, she decided she liked it. It had a certain big city charm lacking in her small hometown back in Ohio. Add in the hills and the ocean view, and she was tempted to make her stay more permanent.

“I have a safehouse nearby.” When she turned and headed up the sidewalk, Brax followed.

“I can drive us.”

She glanced over at him, her pulse kicking up a notch at how much taller he was than her. Exactly seven and three quarter inches taller than her five foot five frame. A part of her wished she could forget details like that, but she never had. “Afraid you’re going to melt, Graves?”

His mouth edged up. “Hardly.”

They didn’t say much more during the walk to her place. She wasn’t worried about bringing him there because she could always move if she felt threatened. There was no way she wanted to go back to his warehouse where his teammates would be waiting, most likely polishing their knives and cleaning their guns. Hell, he probably had her face on a dartboard. Plus, she had weapons stashed around her place, all within easy reach if she needed them.

Besides, she was the Cardinal and, ego aside, she was trained to handle any dangerous situation that came her way.

Physically, anyway. Her traitorous heart was another story, and she needed to keep her emotions locked down tight. Because when it came to Brax, he had a way of making her lose her mind, and her control, far quicker and easier than anyone else she’d ever encountered.

When they reached the nondescript apartment building where she was staying, she unlocked the door and he reached an arm over her head, pushing it open and holding it for her. He always did gentlemanly stuff like that and, truth be told, she missed it. She missed so much about the way things used to be between them.

But you can’t go back, she told herself firmly. No matter how much she wished she could rewind what had happened and somehow fix it, she couldn’t. Their marriage was over, and every precious memory they’d made had shattered when he’d chosen to not fight for her.

And that made her so mad, she still saw red when she thought about it.

Marching past him, she walked up to her first-floor door, quickly opened it and shoved through before he could try to hold it for her. She didn’t need his help and she certainly didn’t need him.

To hell with Braxton Noah Graves.

He hadn’t even pulled the door closed when she whirled around. “Let’s stop dancing around each other. Time to lay it all out on the table.”

“Alright,” he agreed, slowly dragging the word out as he bolted the lock. “Where do you want to start?”

“With why I should believe you over Merlin. You admitted Ex Nihilo is a team of hired assassins taking out Agency targets. How does that make you any better than them?”

“I never said I was better.” He stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “All I said was the job came when I needed it.”

He was still circling her questions and it pissed her off.

“C’mon, Brax.”

“What do you want to know, Quinn? Really?”

God, that was a loaded question. She hesitated, knowing this wasn’t just about The Agency anymore. Not really. It was about the one question that had haunted her for the last five years.

She wanted full disclosure, so time to get down to the dirty truth.

“I want to know why you gave up on me so easily after the CIA accused me of something I didn’t do!” As hard as she tried, she couldn’t keep the hurt out of her voice. Or the slightly hysterical pitch that made it raise a notch.

“You. Left. Me!” he roared, his normally calm composure slipping as he stalked closer. His hands were out of his pockets now and clenched into fists.

And then he was right in her face, but she refused to back down.

“I called you and told you someone set me up!”

“Two days after you disappeared without a word and my superiors grilled me like a goddamn terrorist. Everyone assumed you got the intel you sold from me ,” he growled. “Do you have any idea what I went through, defending you to them like a damn fool?”

Her heart caught. Wait, what? “You defended me?” she asked softly, completely thrown for a loop.

He let out a frustrated huff, shoulders sagging. “Of course, I did. You were my wife. I loved you…and you left me.”

Her mind reeled. All this time she assumed he thought she was guilty. Hell, that he might’ve even been leading the charge to track her down. She took a moment to process his words and their significance.

“I ran because I didn’t want to drag you into my mess. And because when the CIA sets someone up to fall, they make sure they’re silenced. That morning, someone came after me and all I could think about was keeping you safe.”

Suddenly her eyes felt wet and she squeezed them shut, hating herself for showing emotion. She used to be so good at shutting it down. So good at convincing herself she didn’t need anyone, especially not the man who she thought betrayed her.

“Quinn.” His voice sounded as broken as she felt.

“But when I called you…you didn’t believe me,” she insisted.

“The CIA showed me supposed proof of your involvement, but I still had my doubts. Your running didn’t help, and I was suspended from active duty for three months.”

“What proof?” she demanded.

“Photos of you meeting with a known arms dealer and handing him the specs for the latest military drone. Specs only a handful of people had access to, me being one of them.”

“That’s fucking bullshit! I never did that! I swear to God, Brax, it wasn’t me.”

His steely gaze searched hers and she held it, not backing down.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” she rasped. “Not knowing how much your military career meant to you.”

◆◆◆

Braxton’s head spun at Quinn’s revelation. He’d always been a good judge of character and he’d never wanted to believe the evidence he’d seen. But he also wasn’t a gullible idiot. At the time, he’d been a newlywed, so head over heels for his new wife—a woman he’d only known for three months.

After she ran, he’d spent the next three months sitting at home and questioning everything. Had she used him to further her agenda? Had everything between them been a ruse? Was their marriage a total sham and he really meant nothing to her? Was he just a mark?

The humiliating answer he kept returning to had been yes.

But now he wasn’t so sure.

He looked deeply into her sage-colored eyes and her gaze didn’t waver.

She’s telling the truth, he realized. He was willing to bet his reputation as a CAG commander on it. His gut was screaming her innocence so loudly, and his head began to pound from the information and emotional overload.

“I believe you, Quinn,” he finally said.

Her eyes widened slightly then her entire body seemed to sag. “Thank you,” she whispered, and they continued to stare at each other. “So what does this mean?”

Potential plans rapid-fired through his brain, and he kept coming back to one. “Are you willing to play double-agent?”

“I used to be a CIA agent, Graves. I excel at spy games.” Her full lips tilted up in a smile. “What’re you proposing? I help you take down The Agency?”

“The final four players, yes.”

“And why would I do that?”

He smirked. His beloved ex-wife was too smart to agree to anything too quickly. Well, except when he’d asked her to marry him.

Yeah, and look how that turned out, he reminded himself.

“Because I’ll help clear your name with the CIA,” he told her. She only blinked. “Then you can come out of hiding, live a normal life.”

He had military connections in high places, people who owed him favors. Plus, he now had a team of hackers at his disposal. If they had to go in and make certain things disappear from official records, he’d do it. Brax might normally balk at something like that, but if it was all bullshit lies to begin with—and he believed it was—then he’d help Quinn clear her name once they’d toppled The Agency.

She nodded. “I’m in. What’s your plan?”

“First, I want full disclosure on what The Agency contracted you to do and I need to know exactly what you’ve told them about us.”

“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” she asked, and he frowned. “They hired me to eliminate your team. I’m the Cardinal.”

Brax sucked in a sharp breath. The pieces clicked together and he really wasn’t surprised. They’d always been so damn similar, on the same track, same wavelength, same everything. This was just another example.

“Guess we both went from being the good guys to assassins,” he murmured.

“Yeah, guess so.” With a sigh, she walked over to the couch and dropped down. “After going on the run, I decided to use my skills in other ways, and the Cardinal was born.”

He walked over and sat down beside her, focusing on her red hair. He’d always loved the vibrant color and itched to run his fingers through it. The codename fit her perfectly. Unable to resist, he reached out and took hold of a fiery strand, rubbing it between his fingers. Just as soft and silky as he remembered.

“Am I hearing regrets?” he asked, voice husky.

“About my current profession…or you?”

Brax let go of the red strand and slid his hand up and around her neck, cupping it. When had they gotten so close? His thigh pressed into hers and he felt a tremble move through her body. His attention dropped to her lips which parted slightly.

God help him, he was on the verge of kissing her. And nothing would stop him.

They both moved at the same time, their mouths crashing together. The kiss was desperate, molten, and full of need. Five years. The thought flashed through his head. It had been one thousand eight hundred and twenty-five days since he’d last tasted her sweet lips, and he drank deeply, savoring the moment.

And none of it had been their fault. They’d merely been victims, caught in a web of lies.

Locking down his fury over the situation, he focused on the feel of her mouth moving hungrily against his. He knew one thing for certain—his desire for Quinn had never lessened. He craved her like nothing else. Losing her had left a jagged hole in his heart, one that nothing or no one had been able to fill.

It had always been Quinn, and it always would be. Whether he fucking liked it or not.

He grabbed her hips and dragged her forward until she was straddling him. Her fingers scraped through his hair, dislodging his curls from the gel that held them in place. Their mouths fused, tongues dueling, and desire spiraled through him. He yearned for her with every fiber of his being.

She broke her mouth free, breathing hard. “This…” —she began nibbling on his lips— “isn’t a good idea.”

“No…” —he flicked his tongue against hers, his hands squeezing her ass— “it’s a horrible idea.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.” She rolled her hips against his and he groaned, aching for her. But the moment his hand curved around her breast, Quinn slid sideways off his lap.

He wanted to reach for her, but he held back.

“You’re a mistake I don’t plan on repeating,” she murmured, scooting further away.

Ouch. That hurt. But the reality of the situation was they’d both been duped.

“Quinn—”

But she didn’t want to hear it.

“I think it’s in our best interest to keep things professional.” A steely look settled over her features and he knew better than to discuss it further. Not yet, anyway. But he would when the time was right. Because one thing just became very clear.

He wasn’t giving up on her. On them. Not again.