Page 52 of Fallen Hero

“He might not let me—”

“That’s a deal-breaker,” I interrupted her. “Your personal protection doesn’t leave your side. If you show weakness, he’ll pounce and won’t take you seriously. If you demand his respect on this issue, he’ll give it.”

“That was almost as condescending as last night’s ‘stay sharps,’” she noted.

I wanted to remind her what wasn’t condescending about last night, but I’d never break her trust, so I settled on finishing the French toast.

“Fallon will stay close as well, and I’ll play driver,” Pete finished, as if our exchange didn’t happen.

“Once you have the location for Tom, your part’s done,” Fallon circled back. “Where does that leave you?”

“Leave me?”

“Where are you going next?”

Fuck.

I hadn’t thought of that. In a few days, this would be over, and Calista would be gone.

Gone from my life.

“I don’t know. Until Tom clears my name, it won’t be the US.”

Fuck. Would she quit? Would she go someplace quiet and find her peace? Would she leave and go write the mysteries she never got to? Would she leave all of this behind—leave me behind?

My chest felt like it was going to cave in. A pressure so heavy it felt like my heart was struggling to beat.

Fuck.

How the hell had this woman gotten under my skin . . . and how did I work her out?

Chapter Thirteen

“Are you still mad at me?” Atlanta asked in my ear.

I turned off the faucet. My shower would have to wait. I made my friend wait until I sat on the ridiculous tufted bench that looked and felt like silk—but I hoped it wasn’t, since I still had on my sweaty workout gear—in the ridiculously lavish bathroom.

“Yes.”

“On a scale of one to ten, how mad?” she pushed.

A few days ago, I was at a ten. Now that I’d spent time with Mason and my worst fears had come to fruition, I was at a six hundred and ninety-one. Though in the rare times he was sweet, that number ratcheted up significantly. When he was being his normal jerk, it lowered. So I figured it was best to average it out.

I didn’t share this with Atlanta.

“Is there a reason for your call?”

“You mean other than to ascertain where my friend’s head’s at and if she’ll ever forgive me for having her back and doing the right thing, even if it meant going behind her back because she was being stubborn?”

I clenched my jaw. Another indication I needed to quit. I was losing patience, and with that my ability to suppress my emotions. I couldn’t hide my anger from Mason. I couldn’t hide my irritation. I couldn’t hide my reaction to him in whatever form that came. It was dangerous and reckless and very careless.

“Yes, other than that.” I was proud my tone came out bored.

“I’ll tell you if you promise you’ll only be at a level three and you’ll work on forgiving me.”

“I make no such promise.”

I heard her laugh, and I wondered where she was. What she was doing with her life other than gathering information for the CIA—unofficially, of course. Like me, she was a ghost. We received orders, we executed those orders, we collected our pay, and we waited for the next order.