Page 70 of The Bachelor Spy
She looked away.
Her what? His breath stalled again. What had she meant to say?
“And yes, I know the sleepless nights of wondering if you’d bled out or drowned or been crushed when theLusitaniawent down.” Her gaze flashed back to his. “Five months of those nights, in fact.”
The truth stabbed him as if she’d used her knife.
Shehadcome for him. Blake’s mind raced. How was it possible? That she …
His thoughts couldn’t even wrap around the idea. Yes, as partners, they were bound to each other. But this choice, it whispered of something infinitely sweeter. A truth he’d only hoped for.
If Evan was dead, if Evie had killed him in self-defense …
“Why didn’t you report to Director Lark?” The question came softer now.
“Because I was done!” The words erupted raw, anguished. “I killed my own brother, Blake. My twin. The person I’d trusted more than anyone besides you. And when it came down to it, as he was attempting to drown me, I put a knife between his ribs and watched him die.”
Her hands trembled where he held her wrists.
“So forgive me if I wasn’t keen on rushing back to take orders from men who’d send me out into a world I wasn’t ready to face again.”
The pain in her voice was real—he’d heard enough false emotion in his career to know the difference. And he felt its truth all the way through his body.
“And then I heard you were alive,” she continued, pulling against his grip now, more desperately than angrily. “That you were here. That there was a mission. And I thought—” She shook her head. “I thought maybe I could make up for what Evan did. Maybe I could protect you—”
“You thought you could save me.” Blake’s words were scarcely audible, the truth eradicating his anger, his concern … and leaving behind something more convoluted—understanding mixed with something he wasn’t quite ready to name.
Or, perhaps, had been wanting to name for a long time.
“I thought I owed you that much,” she whispered.
Owed me?He stared at her, frozen, kneeling over her, his hands still circling her wrists, their faces inches apart. The moonlight painted silver tracks down her cheeks where tears had fallen.
Hertears. Ones he’d never seen before.
Blake rocked back on his feet, bringing her with him. Without a word, he gently led her away from the open room and easy discovery. She followed without resistance, without question, and that told him everything.
She trusted him.
And she wasnothis enemy.
He guided her into a small storage closet off the corridor. Cramped—barely six feet square, filled with old furniture and unused linens. A narrow window high on one wall let in faint moonlight that spilled over white cloth, wooden shelves, and Evie’s upturned face.
He knew then. She cared for him. Enough to risk showing vulnerability. Enough to cry in front of him and trust him with her brokenness and wounds.
Not the kind they’d bandaged for each other.
But the ones hidden from the world. Twisted behind a shield of years of practice and unfortunate betrayals. The ones that made her the glorious woman he’d grown to … love?
All the pieces of his heart—the puzzle of his nameless emotions—snapped into place with sudden, perfect clarity.
He loved her.
He loved Evie Montgomery.
His friend. His colleague.
Hisheart.
