Page 47 of Spies Don’t Fall for Their Best Friend

Ledger shuffles along the ledge ahead of me.

When we reach a section beneath the upper deck, we stop while two armed men lean over the railing above us.

“They can’t have gone far,” one says. “Reznik wants Shaw alive until we get the token.”

“And Alati?”

“He needs her too.”

The men move away.

Ledger exhales and adjusts the front of his jacket. He has done that at least six times tonight, always checking the same inside pocket.

“What are you carrying?” I whisper.

“Nothing.”

“You’ve protected that pocket more carefully than I’ve protected the token.”

A wave strikes the hull, spraying cold water over our shoes, and Ledger grips the rail more tightly. Then he says, “A ring.”

I turn my head toward him. “A what?”

“An engagement ring.”

“We are clinging to the outside of a hijacked yacht while armed criminals search for us, and somehow that still manages to be the most surprising development of my night. Why do you have it?”

“Because this wasn’t a hijacked yacht when I put it in my pocket.”

“Why is it in your pocket at all?”

“Because I picked it up this afternoon and didn’t have time to take it anywhere safe.”

“You’re proposing to Zoe.”

He gives me a wide grin. “Tomorrow.”

A laugh escapes me, partly because I’m happy for him and partly because this is the most Ledger-possible place to share major personal news.

“Does she know?”

“Nope. Just you, Mom, and Blake do. Zoe and I are going to an after-dark ropes course,” he says as we keep scooting along the ledge. “You can race side by side, and at the end of the course, they’ve got a scoreboard that shows both of your times. I talked to the staff—they’re going to replace our times with ‘Zoe, will you marry me?’ Then I’ll pull out the ring and get down on one knee. I’ve got a friend who’s a weatherman, and he says the night is supposed to be perfect.”

His expression shifts, the recklessness easing into something steadier. “I decided I’m done waiting for some imaginary moment when neither of us is scared of anything. She knows who I am. All of it. And she keeps choosing me anyway.”

The words hit harder than the spray against my face.

Zoe knows Ledger is a spy. She knows what he does, what he hides from everyone else, what his life costs. She knows his worst traits and his best ones, and Ledger never has to wonder whether she chose a version of him he manufactured for her.

Reese knows me better than almost anyone.

She also doesn’t know where I am tonight. She doesn’t know why I sometimes disappear or why I can read a room before I’ve found a seat in it. She doesn’t know that I can talk a stranger into trusting me, or that half the charm she accuses me of using is a skill I was trained to sharpen until it became instinct.

Last night, she gave me the truth. Today, I left before she woke and gave her nothing.

We reach a place where we can climb over the railing and onto a small section of deck with a door. We go through it before anyone above can spot us, and find ourselves in a narrow crew passage on the engineering level, where it smells faintly of fuel and machinery. And an alarm is beeping.

Ledger and I exchange a look. “That’s probably not the dessert bell,” he says.