Facing It (31 page)

Julia Torrison—codename Sheba—is keeping secrets.

Seventeen months ago she was a CIA superagent, tracking down dangerous terrorists with her partner and lover, Conrad Flynn. A mission was blown, literally, when a bomb Julia built exploded early and Conrad died.

Yanked back to Langley and given a new identity, she is now the Counterterrorism Center’s top analyst, spending her days at CIA headquarters and her nights in the bed of her boss. Her former life as a secret agent has been sealed off. Like her heart.

Conrad Flynn—codename Solomon—has his own secrets. For starters, he’s not dead. Going under the deepest cover possible, he faked his death to save Julia’s life. Now he must tear her life apart and ask her to help him hunt down a traitor: her new love.

Is Con a rogue agent or just a jealous ex-lover? To find out, Julia will have to enter a web of seduction and betrayal to play the spy game of her life using nothing more than her iPod—and her intuition.

Julia warns: “Beware of sexy spies bearing gifts. Trust no one and sleep with a gun under your pillow.” Conrad warns: “Sex, lies and tantalizing suspense…don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

“Would it help,” Conrad said quietly from behind Julia, “if I said I was sorry? Again?” His silhouette reflected in the glass as lightning ripped through the black sky.

She had sought solace in her apartment, locking the door behind her and leaving the lights off. An attempt, Conrad knew, to keep him out so she could hang her head and lose the control she had been fighting so hard to keep after learning of Michael Stone’s betrayal.

“No. It wouldn’t help.” Her voice sounded steady and yet still smart with emotion. “You’d be lying. You’re not sorry it’s Michael.”

“But I am sorry the asshole did a number on you.”

Julia’s eyebrows rose as she calmly accused him. “The pot calling the kettle black.”

Conrad clenched his jaw to fight back a response that would only get him in deeper shit. He couldn’t win this argument. No sense trying.

Julia, sensing his refusal to argue, shook her head mildly and ignored him again. A crack of lightning, the follow-up roll of thunder a few seconds later. Long minutes of silence.

Conrad shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Damn this sucked. He wanted her to lash out at him, yell, slam a door, cry in his arms again—like that hadn’t freaked him out a little, she never cried, but even that was preferable to this sudden silence—do something to blow off her anger and hurt. Then he could help her. But this…this withdrawal wasn’t healthy. The emotions would detonate inside her.

Maybe he should get in her face, argue with her until she broke. Tell her why he wasn’t like Stone. She would break, he knew that, and he damn sure would be there to pick up the pieces this time. “You have to talk to me, Jules.”

“No, actually, I don’t. Leave me alone. I need some time to think.”

“I have more information, more proof, if you want to see it.”

Julia cut her gaze to him as the rain continued to pelt the concrete. “I’ve seen and heard enough. The less I know, the more…how did Smitty put it? Effective? Yes that’s the word. The less I know the more
effective
I’ll be in your little sting operation.”

“So you’re going to help us?”

She snorted. “Do I have a choice?”

No
, he wanted to say, his need for her help almost as bad as his need for her forgiveness. At the same time he felt compelled after what he’d put her through to give her an out. “You always have a choice. I can’t force you to do this, to work with me.”

Her body tensed and he knew he’d said the wrong thing, although he wasn’t sure why it was wrong. Her help was critical to the success of the operation, but he didn’t want to push her into a corner. It would only backfire on him.

Her attention went back to the night outside the door. “What if,” she said, her voice controlled, deliberate, “the roles had been reversed seventeen months ago? What if you thought I was dead, Con, and it was your fault?”

Taking a step back, he let his back slide down the wall on the west side of the patio doors. He let himself think about it for a moment, but a moment was all it took. “I’d have gone crazy.”

Her response was just as quick. “But you’d have survived, just like I did.” And accurate.

Lightning flickered, illuminating Julia’s body with a blinking, strobe-like effect. The green eyes were black, her lips set in a grim line. Behind her set face, he knew she was coming to grips with Stone’s betrayal. With her current situation. With his request for her help. He watched as she continued to stare out at the night. She was right, they were survivors. Whatever the outcome of this operation, they would both survive.

He waited for her to tell him that. To assert that she would be fine. But silence was all he got.

Life with Julia had never been easy, but then he had never opted for easy in his life. To him, nothing easy was worth having. Challenge was what made his blood flow, his pulse pound.

Conrad had a superior operational mind and the balls to put his ideas into action. Intelligence mixed with cool logic and hyperawareness made him excel at everything from running agents to troubleshooting tickets for a sold-out game. Always ready for the next opportunity, he was an artful and cunning risk-taker. He loved the game and he loved to win.

In the
007
version of the Intelligence world, Conrad was an outstandingly good spy.

The problem was he had fallen in love with Julia, his opposite in ways the Myers-Briggs assessment test couldn’t begin to measure. And although her scope of assignments had been more limited than his, she was operationally his equal. That had caused just a few problems.

Being a good spook was the antithesis of being a normal person. Those who excelled at flirting with terrorists, assassins, drug dealers and the rest of the Earth’s scum usually sucked in the everyday departments of spouse, parent or friend.

That’s all right, he thought. Take all the time you need, love. I’m not going anywhere. I’m never leaving you again…