Page 69 of The Bachelor Spy
She twisted free, using his grip against him, and her knee came up with such force that the impact would have debilitated him if he hadn’t spun away just in time.
They stared at each other, breaths pulsing shallow. Neither moving. Both assessing.
And Blake was trying his best to understand what was happening. Build truth out of the pieces she was sharing or not sharing.
“If you believe I know you, then trust me now. Explain why you are here.”
“Don’t you know?” The question emerged from her, strained.
He couldn’t read her expression, but his chest squeezed at the look. “If I knew, would I be asking questions?”
“Idiot!” Her eyes narrowed, and she rushed him again, almost desperately. “I came here because—” She got past his guard, her fist connecting with his stomach hard enough to bend him at the waist. He retaliated with a sweep that took her feet out from under her, but she rolled with practiced skill and was up again before he could press the advantage. “It doesn’t matter.”
He managed to get behind her, his arm across her shoulders—holding her against him as he had last time, mouth at her ear. “It matters to me.”
Her breath hitched, almost like a … sob?
What?
“It shouldn’t.” She breathed and used his position against him.
Dropping her weight and twisting, she nearly flipped him over her shoulder, but he held tight, crashing them both onto the floor. Steering his body at just the right moment, he partially broke her fall, sending a shock of pain up his side.
Idiotic chivalry!
If only it served me well.
He pulled her over, pinning her to the floor.
“You should hate me,” Evie gasped, pushing against his hold. “I should have known. I should have seen the signs in Evan—”
What?
Blake managed to pin her wrists above her head, his weight holding her down. They were both breathing hard, faces inches apart in the moonlight. Evan?
Why would she mention Evan? Slowly, awareness began to dawn.
Was she blaming herself?
“Whereisyour brother?”
“Dead.” The word was flat, final, and it stilled Blake entirely.
She used his hesitation, her knee ramming into his thigh—thank heaven—and despite his wince, he kept hold of her arms.
“Evie …”
Whether from him speaking her name or her own admission, some of the violence was gone from her movements. Then those eyes, made deeper and darker by the shadows, gave him more information than her words.
And the truth gutted him.
“You killed him.” It wasn’t a question.
“I defended myself.” Her jaw tightened as she struggled against his grip, but weakly now, as if the fight was draining out of her. “He tried to kill me after theLusitaniawent down. We were in the water, and he … he couldn’t let me live. Not after I’d seen what he’d become.”
“No—” Blake’s grip loosened fractionally. What a horror among so many horrors of that day!
“So yes.” Her voice shook, her gaze boring into his. “I left the service. Because I killed my own twin brother, and I couldn’t … I couldn’t go back and pretend everything was fine. And I’d shot you, my partner … my …”
