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The Holy Grail of happiness is having Bridget asleep in my arms.
It’s back.
That dreaded feeling.
I think back to last night and what could have happened if they were, in fact, after me instead of the target. Would they have killed her if she got in their way?
I’ve never dealt with rogue agents before. I have no idea what to expect here, but I know it isn’t good, whatever all of this is.
I owe Bridget my life… in more ways than one.
I need to get back to Washington and find out what the fuck is going on.
She rustles in my arms, and I know it’s time—time to let her go.
I close my eyes and hold her for one minute more, and then I stand and walk into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I take a shower and dress. I then lift her into my arms and place her back on the bed, gently covering her body with the blankets.
She’s exhausted. “Sleep, angel,” I whisper as I kiss her forehead and lie down beside her. I watch her as I lean up on my elbow.
Her honey-brown hair is splayed across the pillow. She’s still wearing her clothes from last night, too tired to have changed into her pyjamas. Her dark eyelashes fan out across her perfect olive skin. My eyes roam down to her chest and her small hands. Unable to help it, I take her hand in mine.
“I can’t be with someone who does this, Ben.” That’s what she said.
I close my eyes, filled with regret.
This is why I didn’t tell you. I never wanted you to find out this shit about me.
She’s not going to accept it. She never will.
Why would she?
She stirs and her eyes slowly open. I smile softly. “Morning,” I whisper.
She looks at me, her brow furrowing before she glances around the room. “Ben?” she whispers.
“I’m here.” I squeeze her hand.
“Please tell me that I had a really bad case of jetlag and that was all a nightmare.”
I smile sadly. “I wish.” I swallow the lump in my throat.
She cups my cheek in her hand as her eyes search mine. “What’s going on?” she whispers.
I drag my eyes away from hers. I can’t stand that she can sense how I feel.
“Nothing.”
Get up. Get up and do it.
I inhale as I try to make myself get up off the bed. Finally, my body concedes and I stand.
“Talk to me,” she pleads.
“We should go out for breakfast, angel.” I fake a smile.
She frowns. “I want to talk about last night.”
“And we will. But you have to eat first. You’ve hardly eaten for days.”
She lies still for a moment, as if contemplating my offer, until she finally stands and disappears into the bathroom.
I zip up my bag and pull it close to the door. It will save time later.
This time will hurt more than the last—I know it already. This time it’s goodbye… forever.
13
BEN
I watch Bridget eat her poached eggs on toast. “You’re really not eating?” she asks.
“I’m not hungry,” I reply as I sip my coffee.
We are in a small restaurant that sits a few blocks away from our hotel.
“So, this is the job you’ve been so secretive about?”
“Yes.” I sip my coffee again and put my hand up for another cup.
“How long have you been doing this?” she asks.
“Six years.”
“How many people have you killed?”
My eyes hold hers. “Too many to count,” I reply, monotone.
Her face falls and she drops her head.
“It’s okay, Bridget.” I roll my lips as I force the words from my mouth.
She frowns as her eyes rise to meet mine. “What’s okay?”
I shrug and sip my coffee. “I understand that you don’t understand.”
“Do you?” She frowns.
“I don’t expect you to.”
She narrows her eyes as she watches me. “You said you loved me last night.”
I bite my bottom lip and drop my eyes to the table.
“Look at me,” she demands.
I drag my eyes to hers.
“Well?”
“I do love you,” I murmur.
“Why do you only tell me that you love me when something bad is happening?”
I frown.
“The first time you told me you loved me was when you were leaving me.”
I swallow the sand-like feeling in my throat.
“Last night, you told me because you thought I was leaving you.”
I sip my coffee.
“Ben?”
I exhale. “What do you want me to say, Didge? Meet me in the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse for board games?” I shake my head in disgust. “I’ve told you before… I’m not wired the way you are.”
Her eyes hold mine. “That wasn’t what I asked. Although, while you continue to act like Goofy, I will meet you in the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse to strangle you.”
I sip my coffee again.
“Why don’t you tell me you love me when you make love to me, or when we have happy times?” she asks.
I scowl. “What the fuck are you on about? Who cares when I tell you I love you?”
