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6

JOANNA

I stared at West, a stranger wearing my husband’s skin. How dare he have the audacity to use me, hurt me, and then dump the responsibility for the success of his undercover operation on my shoulders?

Yes, Ortez was bad news and I wanted him dealt with, but why did that have to come at the price of my peace of mind?

West gazed back at me with flinty eyes. His expression never wavered. This, then, was who he truly was. He’d never been the charming, sweet man I met in Canada. The one who liked mountain biking, cooking, and brain teasers. The real West was sharp, hard, and distant. Did I even know him at all?

My throat tightened, but once again, I managed not to cry.

“That sounds like blackmail,” I choked out.

“Not blackmail,” he countered, something flickering through his eyes that could be guilt. “Just the truth.”

I straightened my shoulders. “If you want to talk about ‘truth,’ why don’t we start with the fact that I’m a detective and you must have known there was a chance I’d catch on to you? I’m sure you have a contingency plan that doesn’t rely on me keeping your secret. You’d be a fool not to.”

Liar or not, I didn’t think West was a fool.

“Any change of plan at this point would waste time and resources.” He shifted his weight and his muscles rippled. I forced myself not to react. “I know you. You value justice. Are you willing to take the chance that over a dozen dirty cops could go free just because your ego is bruised?”

There was a very real possibility I was going to throw up. He knew exactly what buttons to push. “You manipulative asshole. This isn’t on me. Don’t you dare try to blame me for finally waking up and doing what I need to protect myself.”

He flinched. It was barely perceptible, but I was completely focused on him, so I noticed.

“You’re a good person.” His tone suggested he was being reasonable. “Your goodness is one of the things I love most about you.”

“Stop saying you love me!” I spat. “It isn’t fair.”

“I know.” He didn’t look sorry for it. “Sometimes, life isn’t fair. We both know that. Right now, you’re angry, but when your head is clear, you’ll be upset with yourself if you ruin our operation. Take some time to think about it before you throw everything we’ve worked for away.”

The thing was… he spoke sense. I would be mad at myself for jeopardizing an operation that could end with Ortez behind bars. But somehow, in the moment, that just made me madder.

Fury burned inside me, and I clung to it like a life raft because, if I let go, I might be forced to experience the other emotions crowding around me—like sadness, grief, and loss.

I blinked rapidly and blew out a breath, angling my face away from him, so he wouldn’t see the tears in my eyes. “You bastard. You know what all my vulnerabilities are, but I have no idea what yours are. I don’t even know who you really are.”

A sound in the back of his throat made me glance up. His mouth was pinched at the corners, his eyes filled with hurt.

“You do know who I am.” He didn’t move toward me, thank God. I was in no state to fend him off. “I’m the same person I always was. Even if things you thought you knew about my past aren’t accurate, they’re not what makes me who I am. Inside, where it counts, I’m still the same guy you fell in love with.”

I snorted humorlessly. “All I have is your word for that, and sorry, but your word doesn’t carry much weight right now.”

“I’m still me.” This time, he did reach for me.

I yanked away from him. “I need space.”

I started to turn, desperate to leave the apartment, but he grabbed my shoulder.

“You can’t go.”

“I won’t ruin your precious investigation,” I snapped, tearing away from him. “Not yet, at least. I need time and space to think, and I can’t do that around you.”

“Oh.”

Was it just me, or was there a note of regret in his voice?

Keeping my back to him, I spoke again. “I may come across as practical, but I have a soft heart, and you took advantage of that.”

“I’m sorry.” To his credit, he sounded it.

“Yeah, well, sorry doesn’t count for much.”

I managed to hold it together while I packed a bag and slung it over my shoulder.

“Where are you going?” he asked quietly as I headed for the door.

“To Hallie’s.”

“Drive safely.”

I didn’t answer. I gritted my teeth to keep from saying anything—or losing it—hurried to my car and drove on autopilot to my best friend’s apartment building. I parked in a guest space and took an elevator to her floor. I knocked on the door and, as soon as she opened it, the tears that had been building inside me burst free.

“Jo?”

I fell into Hallie’s arms, crying. She hugged me tight, stretching onto tiptoes to comfort me properly. She was much shorter than me, and I buried my face in the crook of her neck, my back heaving as I sobbed.

“There there,” she murmured, stroking my hair. “Come in and tell me what’s wrong.”

She guided me inside, closed the door behind us, and slid all three locks into place. She wrapped her arm around my waist and led me to the sofa. I flopped onto one end, and when she lowered herself down beside me, I rested my head on her shoulder.

Now that I’d started crying, I didn’t seem able to stop.

“Wanna talk about it?” she asked.

I sniffed miserably. Where was I supposed to start?

The man I’d loved didn’t exist.

I’d been manipulated into believing pretty lies by a flinty-eyed liar with deceptively sweet dimples.

I wasn’t even legally married.

Not to mention the fact that, apparently, a good number of my colleagues were crooked.

But deeper than that, beyond the loss of what I’d thought was my happily-ever-after, was the fact that I’d always held a fundamental belief in the power of love. I thought I’d know my soulmate when I met them, and I’d been wrong. West was absolutely not that person. If I’d been mistaken about that, then what else had I been wrong about?”

“Jojo. Talk to me. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong. Do you want me to call West?”

“No.” I bolted upright. “Don’t call West.”

Her eyebrows flew up. “Oookay.” She nibbled her lower lip. “Did West… do something? Are you fighting? Did he hurt you?”

I almost snorted at the absurdity of it. I was a trained fighter. Yet, she wasn’t wrong. West had hurt me. Just not in the way she meant.

“Everything between us has been a lie,” I whispered.

Somehow, whispering felt easier than speaking aloud.

Hallie frowned and swiped a strand of her dark hair aside when it fell across her face. “Why do you say that?”

I looked her in the eye. “His name isn’t Westley Gallo. It’s Weston Conti. I just found out.”

Her mouth formed an O . “Why would he lie about that?”

I looked down at my hands, the fingertips cold despite the warmth of her apartment. “Because he’s a federal agent on an undercover assignment. I’m part of his cover—only I didn’t know it.”

“What?” She looked as stunned as I’d been by the revelation. “Explain.”

So, I told her about how I’d seen him with the blonde and asked Zeke to find answers. Then, how everything had turned upside down.

“You can’t tell anyone any of this,” I reminded her, drying my damp cheeks on my sleeve. “I’m sure it’s classified, and I promised not to mess up his assignment.”

Hallie smirked. “You do remember that I’ve worked on classified assignments before too? At King’s Security, they train us to keep our mouths shut. Your secrets are safe with me. ”

“Thanks.”

She shrugged. “We’re friends. That’s what we do. Now, let me get us a drink and we can talk about your options. Would you prefer beer, wine, liquor, or tea?”

“No coffee?” I asked.

“Not in your state. You need soothing, not amping up”

I felt a flash of amusement. “Have you been spending time around Sage?”

Sage was Hallie’s boss, Kade’s, fiancée—a quirky, homeopathic-remedy-loving yoga instructor.

“A little. So, what’ll it be?”

“Tea, please.”

I could really go for a drink. Perhaps a strong wine or a gin and tonic, but if Hallie and I were going to discuss options, I’d need a clear mind. Hence, tea.

Hallie stood. “Put your bag away. I’ll make the tea.”

I hauled myself upright, wincing at how much effort it took, and carried my duffel bag to the spare bedroom. It was simple with a double bed, white walls, dark gray carpet, and a matching wooden dresser and nightstand.

I placed my bag on the bed, unzipped it and rifled through to find the pajamas I’d need for tonight and an outfit for tomorrow. I hung my pants, shirt, and blazer from the door handle and plugged in my phone charger beside the nightstand. I glanced at my phone, half-expecting to see missed calls and messages from West, but there was nothing.

I donned the pajamas, returned to the sofa and tucked my legs beneath myself on one end. Hallie carried over two steaming mugs of tea, placing them on the coffee table.

“Have you thought about what you might do?” she asked.

I grabbed my mug and raised it to my nose, breathing in a faintly herbal smell. “Is this chamomile?”

“Yes, with a few other things in the mix. It should help settle your nerves.”

My lips twisted wryly. “You’ve definitely been listening to Sage.” I blew across the surface of the tea to cool it. “The way I see it, I have three options: One, I demand a separation. He deceived me and betrayed me, and there’s no reason I should have to tolerate his presence in my life.”

Hallie intertwined her fingers and rested them on her knee. “But that might unravel whatever he’s managed to achieve so far. Do you know what, exactly, he’s been up to?”

“No,” I admitted. “So I can’t predict what will be inconvenient versus completely screwing up his operation beyond repair, and I don’t want Ortez to go free if there’s a chance to lock him away.”

She pressed her lips together. “We might need to learn how high the stakes currently are. What’s option two?”

“Option two is that I pretend nothing is amiss and continue acting like I’m happily married for however long it takes him to complete his assignment.”

“Which could be months or years.”

An unpleasant prospect. I also wasn’t sure I was a good enough actor to convince people that nothing had changed. My more casual acquaintances, sure, but my closer friends and family would notice something amiss.

“Option three is a combination of the two,” I continued, flattening my palms against the sides of the mug to warm them. “I let people believe we’re together but one of us secretly moves out. There’s another apartment available for rent in our building. Perhaps he could move in there and no one would notice.”

“Other than your family,” she pointed out.

“Yeah.” I sighed. “There’s no getting around that.”

Hallie hummed in thought and sipped her tea. “From what I know of you, option two isn’t really an option. Whatever his reasons, West hurt you.” Her eyes flashed in a rare show of temper. “He married you under false pretenses. No matter how you rationalize it, I doubt you could actually go through with pretending everything is fine.”

She was right, of course. I was rational enough to understand why he did what he did, but I also knew myself well enough to realize that trying to live with him and keep up appearances would be like allowing a wound to fester.

“Option one would be satisfying.” I was willing to admit—even if only to my best friend—that I could be petty when provoked. I wanted more than anything to be able to tell West to get the hell out of my apartment and never return. It would be best for my mental health to rip off the Band-Aid. Get it over with quickly and begin healing.

“Only temporarily,” Hallie replied. “As soon as he was gone, you’d start stewing over all of the terrible things that might happen if Ortez remains at large because you were too selfish to set aside your pride.”

When I narrowed my eyes at her, she continued quickly.

“Not that you are selfish. Far from it. But that’s what you’d tell yourself.”

I groaned, placed the mug back on the ground, and buried my face in my hands. “How do you know me so well?”

She laughed. “Years of friendship and a psychology degree.”

I raised my head. “Touché. What about option three? Surely there’s a way we could make it work.”

Her forehead furrowed as she thought. “How often do you see your parents?”

“We have a monthly dinner, and other than that, it’s pretty sporadic.” I didn’t see them as much as I’d like to. Work kept me too busy. But that wasn’t a proper excuse. I should do better.

Hallie drank more of her tea, not even seeming to notice that it was still steaming. “So you put on a good face for your family dinners, and beyond that, you don’t really need to worry. But I do think that having him move out could draw too much attention. If anyone is watching him, they’ll notice if he moves his stuff and find it suspicious.”

“True.” I hadn’t considered that. My heart sank. “He’s going to have to stay.”

Hallie’s expression was sympathetic. “Unless you decide you don’t care about getting dirty cops off the street, then probably. But you could move him into the spare room. Surely he won’t argue. He should just be grateful you aren’t kicking him to the curb.”

“Ugh.” I reached for my tea and gulped, ignoring the slight burn as the hot liquid slid over my tongue and down my throat. “I won’t do it forever though.”

Having him there would only be a reminder of what I’d lost… and how stupid I’d been.

She cocked her head. “So give him a timeframe. Say he has X amount of time to break the case or you’re no longer willing to play along.”

“How long do you think he needs?” It would be easier to guess if I knew exactly who he was investigating and how he was going about it.

“He’s had four months,” she pointed out. “The first month might not have been useful, but surely, he’s had enough time to get a foothold.”

“So, I’ll give him another two.” Eight weeks. I could do that. Any longer and I might forget why I couldn’t allow myself to feel all the soft emotions he’d stirred in me in the past.

“Good girl.” She drained her mug. “So, that’s the plan?”

I nodded firmly. “Yes. ”

“Great.” She pushed to her feet. “Then it’s time for wine.”

I chuckled despite myself. “You couldn’t be more right.”

I followed her to the kitchen and emptied my mostly full mug of tea down the sink. It had been a nice idea, but now that I didn’t have to worry about muddying my thoughts, I really would prefer something to take the edge off.

Hallie popped the cork out of a bottle of white wine and filled two glasses. I took one and we chinked them against each other.

“Cheers to a miserable Valentine’s Day,” I said.

She tipped back her glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

We returned to the sofa, and I checked my phone again. Now, there were several messages from West.

“I’ve got one too,” Hallie said. “He wants to know if you’re all right.”

I huffed. “Just leave it. I told him where I was going, and he knows I can take care of myself. I don’t owe him anything more than that.” Not after what he did. I angled myself toward her and leaned against the arm of the sofa. “So, are there any dating prospects on the horizon for you?”

Hallie rolled her eyes. “Believe it or not, guys aren’t lining up to date a female bodyguard. If the irregular work hours don’t put them off, then the fact I could put them on the ground in under thirty seconds usually does the trick. For some reason, men seem to find that threatening to their masculinity.”

My lip curled. “Men are ridiculous. They should be glad their partner is capable of defending themselves, not put off because their fragile ego makes them want to be the most physically powerful person in a room.”

Hallie sighed wistfully. “Maybe one day I’ll find a guy who doesn’t mind that I can bench press as much as them, but that day hasn’t come yet. ”

I patted her leg. “You’ll get there.”

She deserved love. Hallie might be strong, with the kind of muscles obtained from years of martial arts training, but she was also sweet, kind, and completely loyal. She was a closet romantic, just like me. Or rather, like I’d been. I suspected I wouldn’t be quite so naively optimistic about love in the future.

“Want to watch a movie?” I asked.“Maybe a comedy?”

She perked up. “Absolutely.”

She grabbed the remote so we could choose one, and within a few minutes, we were snug on her sofa, sniggering at a movie with an outrageous premise.

When the movie ended, we cleaned up, brushed our teeth, and said our good-nights. I plugged my phone in to charge. The screen lit up, displaying the collection of messages from West. With a sigh, I opened them and looked at the most recent.

West: Please just let me know you’re okay and when I can expect you home. I’m worried.

A tendril of emotion curled in my chest. It wasn’t fair that he could affect me so much when he’d lied about everything.

Joanna: I’m fine. I won’t be back tonight. Not sure when I will.

He replied almost immediately.

West: I love you. Sleep well.

I scoffed as I placed the phone face down on the nightstand.

He loved me. Yeah, right.

As I closed my eyes, an image of the blond woman from the coffee shop flashed into my mind once again. He still hadn’t explained who she really was to him.

Was she his actual wife, waiting patiently for him to come home?