She spun, but he snagged her elbow, turning her back to face him. “What the hell are you talking about?”
She jerked her arm free. “What does it matter? You’ve already got your version of the truth locked away inside your head. Anything I say is just going to be more of this elaborate lie I’m supposedly part of. Some grand scheme to screw you over.” She stepped into his space, again, jabbing one finger against his chest. “Well, guess what, baby? You weren’t the only one who got screwed. And, at least, you didn’t lose everything. You still had your life. Your team. Your precious brotherhood. So, if you’re looking for pity, cry to someone who has any sympathy left to give.”
She marched away, getting to the doorway to his room before he was on her. Spinning her and trapping her between him and the wall. Pressing his body hard against hers. She felt every inch. Every rough breath, every clench of his muscles as he stared down at her. Nostrils flaring. Skin taut and slashed with red.
“I’m done playing games. I want to know why you left with nothing more than that damn note. Why you didn’t have the guts to tell me to fuck off to my face. And I want to know, now.”
God, being held like that, his deadly expression focused on her, shouldn’t make her breathless. Wish he’d take both her arms and lock them over her head, then claim her mouth with his. But denying it aroused the hell out of her was pointless. He was pressed hard against her. He was bound to feel her nipplespoking him in the chest. How her heart had kicked up the moment he’d cornered her. See how her pulse fluttered wildly beneath her skin.
She swallowed, damn near came when his gaze dropped to her throat then back up. “And if you don’t like what I have to say?”
“At least, I’ll know.” He inhaled, held it, then slowly let it out, grimacing as if what he was about to say would cost him. Cause physical pain. “It’s not like you’re the first person to ditch me because of my father. I just thought I deserved to hear you say it to my face.”
She blinked. Had she blacked out for a moment and missed half of the conversation? Because she didn’t have a clue what Brett meant. “Your…father?”
His lips twitched, looked like a damn wolf baring its teeth, before he pounded the wall on either side of her head then stalked off, turning to face her a few feet away. “I get it. He’s a monster. I’m his son, but damn it, El, I’m nothing like him. Never will be. I thought…” Another deep breath. Another rough exhalation. “I thought you knew that. Knewme.”
“What are you talking about? Why would I care who your father is?”
“Because you obviously think I’m gonna turn out just like him.”
Ellis leaned more of her weight against the wall, praying she didn’t just collapse into a heap on the floor. She pressed her head into the firm surface, hoping it would steady her. God she was tired. Tired of fighting to stay strong. To pretend she hadn’t died that night five years ago. That she wasn’t just going through the motions because she was too stubborn to give up. To just end it. He wasn’t going to like this part—might not believe her.
She released a weary breath, glancing over at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know about any note because the truth is, I didn’t write one.”
A grunt, then he was back. Full body against hers, again. Every muscle hard. Unyielding. He jammed his hand into his pocket, then held up his fist, shaking a crumpled piece of paper at her. “Stop lying to me. I still have the damn thing. Couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it. A reminder never to fall like that, again.”
He shoved it at her, stepping back enough she could smooth it out. Read it. It was smudged, the edges frayed, with some of the writing nothing more than faded strokes. But she could still make out the words.
God, Brett, I just learned that your father’s Daniel Sievers! How could you keep that from me all this time? Didn’t you think I needed to know? That I’d want to hear it from you and not have it tossed in my face during a briefing? I can’t be with a man who built our relationship on lies. Who obviously doesn’t trust me. Who’s got the same blood as that monster.
It’s over. We’re done.
Ellis
Each word hit her hard until it took every ounce of strength, all her damn training, to raise her gaze to his—look him in the eyes. Hurt. Anger. Betrayal. That’s what stared back at her.
She tried to take a shaky breath—failed. “Shit.”
“Shit? That’s all you’ve got to say?”
“I didn’t write this.”
Narrowed eyes. Firm mouth. Muscles primed for a fight. “It’s your handwriting.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Ellis—”
“It’s a close match. I’ll grant you that. Pretty freaking spectacular. But it’s not my handwriting because I didn’t write it. McCormick did.”
“Who?”
“My boss. Roger McCormick. He’s one of the unit directors for the CIA’s Special Activities Division. He wrote the note or had someone do it for him. This wasn’t me.”
“You said you’d stop lying.”
“I’m not lying. Let me guess? You got this, what, a week or so after we talked last? Around the time we were going to meet in Paris? About a month after that clusterfuck of a mission your unit went on in Somalia? The last one I gathered intel for? Where some of those NCS bastards nearly got you and all of Alpha squad killed?”
