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Noah broke into her tortured thoughts. “We’ve never talked about his death. I assumed you didn’t want to, that it was too painful.”
“The official story was that he was killed on a mission.”
He raised a brow. “Official?”
“It’s complicated.”
He settled back into his chair. “All right. Tell it your way.”
She explained the plan, the reasons they’d implemented it, and how it was supposed to have worked.
“The ruse was simple and a realistic one. We told everyone we were called back to consult on a previous mission. A terrorist, well known in the intelligence community, had resurfaced. Nic was always good at deep cover and had a lot of experience with this type of op, so the mission looked legitimate. Nic was to go under deep cover again and meet with this terrorist. He would draw him to a meeting place. I would then blow the building, killing the terrorist. The op supposedly went sideways, and the building blew before Nic could get out.”
“But that’s not what happened,” Noah said.
“No. There was no terrorist. We created an entire backstory, complete with photos, family history…the whole nine yards. I had footage showing the building exploding. No one could have survived the blast. If anyone dug deeper, they would only see what we wanted them to find.”
“Impressive.”
She gave a grim, half smile. “It took some work, but it all went off like clockwork. We needed everyone to believe I was responsible for his death.”
How many times had she practiced how she would tell the OZ team what had happened? At least a dozen, if not more. By the time she’d actually said the words, she had sounded as unemotional and uncaring as she had planned. Their regard for her had turned to hatred in an instant.
“I’m sorry, Noah. I probably should have told you all of this long ago.”
“When I hired you, I told you I didn’t need to know everything about your life, past or present. You’ve been an exemplary operative, saving lives on almost every mission. I trust you, and as you know, I don’t do that easily. Whatever happened, there’s a good reason for what you did.”
“I thought so at the time. Nic and I were in a bad place. Some things had happened that neither of us was able to get past.”
Those last few days had been some of the most painful moments of her life. She and Nic had barely spoken to each other. And that last day, the day before he’d disappeared, he hadn’t even been able to look her in the face as he had delivered the final blow.
Had that been part of the plan? Had she missed all the nuances because she’d been hurting so much? Now she would question everything. Every word, every glance, every promise—had they all been lies?
She looked away from Noah’s penetrating gaze. There were details she couldn’t share and some she was too ashamed to voice. But when your heart was breaking and every breath felt as if shards of glass were clawing at your lungs, you forged ahead and hoped for the best.
Had Nic known that? Counted on that? Had he planned all of this from the outset?
No. Nic had never been one for revenge or pettiness. He was too laser-focused on the job to fall into that trap, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t use others’ weaknesses against them. Had he used hers? Knowing how she was hurting, had he set her up?
When he had missed his first check-in, she had been concerned but not overly so. Things happened, and in this line of work, you had to improvise. But when he had missed the next one a week later, she had known something had gone sideways. Problem was, no one could, or would, tell her anything.
Kate had assured her that she hadn’t heard from him either. They had discussed what might have happened. Kate had told her that she’d sent people out looking for him—that she was doing everything she could to find him.
Olivia had gone on her own several times. Starting from where he’d planned to be that first week, she had searched, asked questions, dug as deep as she could. Nothing had come up. It was as if he’d dissolved into thin air. That was the problem with searching for a man with Hawke’s skills. If he didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be. Her husband was a master of disguises, and his deep-cover talents were second to none. She had just never considered that he would use them against her.
“How long has your husband been gone?”
“A little over two years.”
“Does anyone else know he’s alive?”
“Yes, but I don’t know how many.”
Olivia accepted the other betrayals with equanimity. Why shouldn’t she? When you’d been deceived by the one person you trusted most in the world, what did another, lesser betrayal matter?
Noah heard the pain behind the words. Olivia Gates was the coolest, least emotional of all his operatives. He had always clocked that up to her upbringing. Being raised by spies to be a spy would definitely make one wary to reveal anything one didn’t want to reveal.
But the pain showed now. In her face, her voice. The clenched fists she made as she relayed her story told a tale of extreme emotional trauma.
