Page 6 of Oathbreaker

She’s stopped moving. I don’t even know if she’s breathing, she’s staring at me so intently.

“And then it all went wrong. Our agent was already dead, and when they got wind of the questions I was asking in trying to find him…” I let her use her imagination.

“You were captured.”

“Well, I was already in prison. But instead of spending thirty days for being a careless American who did something stupid, they figured out I was a…spy. And everything changed.”

Her eyes get cloudy and then she abruptly turns away. “I have breakfast. Do you still like your coffee with sugar?”

She remembers.

“Yes. Thank you.” I take the proffered cup.

“And chocolate croissants.”

God, I love this woman.

“Perfect.”

She busies herself putting croissants on plates, digging out napkins and arranging our breakfast for us. “Eat the sandwich first,” she says, thrusting a bagel with what looks like bacon, egg and cheese at me. “You need protein. The croissant is dessert.”

I take the first bite staring into her gorgeous green eyes.

She’s even more beautiful now that she’s older. Emerald-green eyes, ivory skin, and fiery-red hair that matches her sometimes explosive personality. It’s one of my favorite things about her.

“What?” she asks, scowling when she catches me smiling at her.

“I’m enjoying my sandwich—and the view.”

Her cheeks flush pink and she dips her head. “Don’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s been five years, Colt!” There’s that temper I love so much. “This isn’t like you were deployed for six months. We buried you. We mourned you. We lost you. I…lost you.” A single tear rolls down her cheek and she swipes at it angrily, another wave of guilt hitting me right in the gut.

I didn’t know what the powers that be were doing in the background. I was focused on the mission. And getting back to my girl. I figured with a year’s worth of salary building up while I was in training, I could buy her a ring when I got home.

Once she started receiving my letters, she’d understand.

She would wait.

Except those letters were never sent and… the painful reality hits me that Briar didn’t wait. She had nothing to wait for.

I was dead.

For nearly five long years she believed I was dead.

Fuck. Me.

“Babe, I?—”

Her phone buzzes, and she whips it out of her pocket.

“I’m sorry, I have to take this.” She answers in a cool, professional voice I’ve never heard before. “What’s going on?” She listens. Annoyance crosses her features. “Are you kidding me? Now?” More silence, and it ticks me off that I can’t hear the other end of the conversation even though it has nothing to do with me. “Yes, I’m coming. I’m on the other side of town, though, so it’ll probably take me an hour in traffic… Yup. I’m on my way.” She stuffs the phone back in her pocket. “I have to go. I’m sorry. There’s an issue at the office.”

I don’t know exactly what she does for work, but I know she works for my friend Atlas Delarosa. Who has apparently become one of the richest men in the world in the last five years. I assumed she was his secretary or some kind of executive assistant, but the tension in her face and her body language tell me she’s more. A lot more.

And I’m dying to know how much.