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“I didn’t ask to have my locks changed.”
“You left me a note and money this morning.”
I don’t know what to think about this. I turn away from him, and I don’t know what to do. I pull my phone from my pocket and send a text to the number I’ve been given to contact if I think I’m in trouble. Should I even go to my apartment? I think I have to. How will whoever comes to save me find me if I don’t? Maybe they—whoever the agency is that hid me away is—had this done for safety reasons. I have a gun upstairs. I should be carrying it. I need that gun, and I need it now.
On my way upstairs, I grab my phone, punching in 9-1-1 to be ready if I need to dial. I reach my apartment and unlock the door. I enter and flip on the light and scan the open space of the living room and kitchen, but aside from my scant furnishings, it’s empty. I listen and listen some more, but there is no sound. Huffing out a breath, I shut the door and lock it, then run into the kitchen and pull out my gun. I load it and decide I can’t stay here. I don’t know who else has a key. Coming here was a stupid decision except, well, now I have a gun.
With that gun in hand, I walk toward the archway that’s the only door to my bedroom, and the minute I step inside, I flip on the light and gasp. In the corner, in the leather chair, by my window is a man and that man is Noah.
Chapter three
Ashley (Still Sandy but not for long)
He sits there, in my room, in jeans and a T-shirt, looking as casual, and cool, and perfect as he ever did in one of his expensive suits, a lethal edge oozing from him. That’s the quality about him that I always knew existed, that I denied, but if I’m honest with myself, it appealed to me. It still appeals to me, and it scares the hell out of me how much I still want him, how much I still love him. I should shoot him. He could shoot me.
My world spins, and I turn to run because I’m supposed to be running from him, my God, I’m hiding from him. He’s a dirty CIA agent.
“Don’t run,” he says softly. “I’ve waited too damn long to see you again to have you run from me.”
The emotion in his voice halts me, that whiskey-rich masculinity, and I grip the archway. I can’t run. I can’t walk away. What the hell is wrong with me? But I know. I know that I have to get answers. I know that one of us is going to die tonight.
“Ashley,” he says softly again, and oh God, he’s behind me now, his breath a warm fan on my neck.
I whirl on him, my gun pressed to his T-shirt that stretches across his broad chest, his body perfectly honed. And why wouldn’t it be? This is the body he used to fuck me with while he was killing people, or so I’m told.
“They told me everything, and I’ve laid in bed dreaming of killing you,” I seethe.
“I taught you to use that gun for a reason. To keep you alive. To protect you.”
“To kill you?”
“Is that what you want? To kill me? Because now isn’t my time. You aren’t safe, and I’m the person who can protect you.”
“I know the truth,” I hiss at him.
“You know what they told you. I’m here to tell you my version of everything.” His hand comes down on the gun. “Shoot me or come sit down with me. Talk to me.”
“I’m no threat to you. I know nothing to tell anyone because you never told me a word of truth. Leave. Just leave me alone.”
“You know I can’t do that.” He moves before I can blink, taking the gun from me, and shoving it in the back of his pants, proof that where this man is concerned, I’m always a fool. With no other option, I try to turn and run again, but it’s too late. He drags me to him, pulling me flush against his familiar, hard body.
“I didn’t betray my country. I was setup.”
I don’t fight him. I mean to what end would that lead me anyway? He’s bigger, he’s stronger. He’s a CIA agent. And I’ve already screwed up and lost the upper hand. “What do you want from me?” I demand.
“You. I just want you.”
“Is this where you kill me?”
“I would never hurt you, and I won’t let anyone else hurt you either.”
“You already hurt me.”
“I know that, but I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you give me the chance.”
I’m trembling all over, my heart pounding in my ears. “Stop playing games with me. Just kill me and be done with it.”
“Do you really believe I’d hurt you?”
