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“A valid point, and one I’ll consider. For the time being, we wait until connections are made so we can get the fuck out of here.”
“You’re afraid. Aren’t you?” I asked after a full minute had passed.
His laugh was bitter, hollow. “Sweetheart. Men like me don’t get afraid.”
“Why is that? You’re human.”
“Am I?” He lifted his glass in some unknown salute, taking his time before bringing the rim to his lips. Every move he made was impossible to ignore, arousal building to the point my heart was skipping beats. Even in the moments of fear when he was near, I couldn’t avoid the desire that swept through me, nor did I want to. I felt the anguish of knowing that we could never stand a chance at being together. Just another pipe dream amidst hundreds of them.
“Yes, you are. You might not want to be, but you’re flesh and blood, water and bones. And you have a heart.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I’m nothing but a machine.”
What could I say that would make either one of us feel any better? My flash drive had the potential to destroy the world. I was one of the most sought-after women in the country for all the wrong reasons. A lump formed in my throat, the ridiculousness of what I’d gotten myself into opening the pits of darkness even more, pulling at me as it had done so many years before.
“Who is this man you seem to trust so much?”
I hung my head in my hand, unable to stop shaking. “His name is Dane Shepherd. He’s a good man. A very good man.” He didn’t register I’d answered him, although I knew by now he’d captured the name in the back of his mind. Cobra would hunt him down, grilling him as to what he knew and his intentions.
“Why was he fired?”
When I looked away, I gathered another sense of his anger. “Because he was too close to me. His superior believed he couldn’t do the job effectively.” I didn’t want to see the look on his face.
“Your sister was killed in an accident.”
I shot him a look. I should have known he’d check on what I’d told him to see if I was telling the truth. “Yes, a terrible car accident.”
“Why do you think your father had something to do with it?”
“Because I overheard Angela and my father arguing right before it happened. Angela never came to the house, except to see me. When she left, she was in tears. Twenty minutes later, she crossed over the double line, hitting a truck head on.”
He took a deep breath, holding it for several seconds. “You never learned why they argued?”
“No. My father lied to me. He laughed, patted me on the back, and told me they hadn’t been arguing. I was standing right outside the door for most of it. I remember every detail like it happened just yesterday. The time of day, the way the sun looked. I remembered the flowers my mother had just planted in two huge pots. Red and pink, her favorite colors. And I remember their loud voices, her scream that she never wanted to see him again. I ran back to my room at that point. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.” I closed my eyes, my anger building.
“I understand how you feel, Isabella, but she might have had mechanical issues, or a tire blew, which forced her into the other lane.”
“No. That’s not what happened.” I was as defensive as I’d been years after the incident when grilled in the damn facility my parents had sent me to. “He never liked my sister. He didn’t even care she’d moved out. My parents even sent her away to school for several months. I never found out why. I knew she had trouble in school, but she didn’t want to leave.” Maybe I wasn’t making any sense.
“Memories can be… difficult. Nightmares become real, jading the truth.”
I thought about what he was saying.
“Is that what happened to you?” I asked. The second I did, he dropped his gaze.
“Perhaps.”
“Something terrible happened inside his office that day. That’s why she’s dead,” I insisted. “My father never loved her.”
“Why would you say that?”
Bile had formed in my throat, the same sense of agony I’d felt then even more powerful today. “She was adopted. My mother was told she couldn’t have children, so they found Angela. Then I was their little miracle.”
He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t have to. He didn’t believe anything I was telling him.
“Unfortunately, Angela was rebellious. She was more difficult to handle than they realized. They just didn’t want that in their lives. She never got along with my father.”
“All children can be difficult, Isabella.”
