Compromised (7 page)

S
imon sat at a table in the restaurant he'd picked from a rack of cards at the concierge desk. It was far enough away from his hotel and her apartment that he wouldn't be tempted to…he didn't know what. It would be a toss-up between dragging her back to either place to duct tape her to the wall to keep her safe from her “boyfriend,” or dragging her back and doing all kinds of other things with this new Sadie.

He'd been sure that the routine she'd given at the café was in some way insincere, but with him not seeming to be able to get a bead on this new Sadie, he couldn't tell for certain.

Maybe she had gotten in over her head with Asker. Maybe she was just appealing to the part of him that still cared about her. He was all switched around and upside down, and he didn't much care for the feeling. He hadn't felt unsure about anything for years. It just wasn't in his nature. But she was so hard to read. Yes, he should walk away, but he couldn't. He needed to know why she had changed so dramatically. And what the previous night had been about.

He shifted in his seat uncomfortably at the thought of the sex they'd had. It had been horrible and fascinating and hot as hell all at once. She'd treated him like a fucking man-whore, used him, and immediately went cold. Shit, he couldn't even remember if they'd kissed. She'd turned him into Julia fucking Roberts.

Sadie was ten minutes late. When she appeared at the maître d's desk, she just pointed at Simon's table and snaked her way through the other diners toward him. She looked happy and relaxed, which he wasn't expecting. And really fucking hot. Her slightly tanned skin shimmered in the dim light of the restaurant, and her short, just-fell-out-of-bed hair belied her determined eyes. She looked casual, but it was easy to see that she had purpose. He tipped his head slightly in contemplation. He'd never noticed this much about her before. It was as if she'd suddenly come into sharp contrast before him.

She wore a dress with small cutouts that revealed skin on either side of her waist. The short skirt was flared and had layers of thin material that made him want to see what they were hiding. He knew what was under there, but the dress was doing terrible things to his brain. And dick.

“I wasn't sure if you'd come,” he said, rising to pull out her chair.

“Why?” she replied with a smile.

“Because…I feel as if I don't know the first thing about you anymore,” he said honestly.

“Maybe you never knew me as well as you thought. Did you consider that?” she asked, sitting back in her chair.

He gave her a small smile as he sat back into his seat. “It felt like I knew you very well.”

“Things aren't always as they seem.” She nodded at the waiter, who had grabbed the wine from the silver wine bucket next to the table.

What was that supposed to mean?

“Your father told me you left the DoD. What made you do that?”

A flash in her eyes. What was that? Fear? Surprise? Goddamnit—why couldn't he get a handle on her?

“You spoke to my father? When?”

“A few months ago. A business call,” he lied.

She paused, watching his face.

“Why?” She took a sip of wine. Her eyes fluttered shut for a second as she tasted it. He'd picked an expensive wine that she'd cooed over at a wine tasting back in DC. So maybe Sadie hadn't completely changed.

“It was a work-related thing.”

“If you've only brought me here to lie, I think I'm done.” She put her napkin by the side of her plate and slid her chair out.

Shit.

He put his hand lightly on her arm. “Okay, I spoke to him this morning. I'm sorry. I didn't want to piss you off even more.”

She sat and smiled. “See? Telling the truth isn't
that
hard. So let's try again, and don't forget I have a built-in bullshit detector when it comes to you. Why did you call my father?”

What the hell was she talking about? “I told him that I'd seen you here and that you were in the company of someone…we know.”

“
We
know?” she asked, interest sparking in her eyes.

Maybe she
would
pay attention to this. “He's associated with some bad people.”

“Associated how?” she asked, leaning forward slightly.

“He's been photographed with several Greek persons of interest.” There. That should do it. She'd always respected his job and his—

She burst out laughing. “This is Athens, Simon. Everyone knows everyone. If you take enough photos, I'm sure you'd find me standing next to all manner of ‘persons of interest.'” She laughed again, holding her napkin briefly to her lips as if she was scared she'd make too much noise. She took another sip of wine. “Look. Athens is like DC. So many crooks masquerading as regular people, and so many regular people masquerading as crooks.”

It was good to see her laugh. Properly laugh. He sat back and did the same. “I suppose you're right. Man, DC—I'm not sad to be away from that scene. Don't get me wrong: I'd have stood by your side at those cocktail parties my whole life for you. But sometimes it was like swimming for your life in a shallow pool filled with sharks and piranhas.”

Her eyes softened. “I had no idea you hated it so much. If it's any consolation, I wasn't keen myself. But it was always hard to say no to Mother. You remember.”

He laughed again. “Oh yes; I do remember. We were that close to eloping before she guilt-tripped us into staying for the big wedding.” He took a swig of wine. “That close.” He held up his fingers a millimeter apart.

A pained look flashed across her face and she leaned forward. “I'm so sorry about that. I had no idea…”

“No. How could you know that our wedding would descend into something out of
Apocalypse Now
?”

“That's not what I meant. I'm sorry that you spent a year doing things you didn't want to do because of me.” She frowned. “I never realized, and I should have.”

“What are you…No, that's not what I meant. I just wanted to be with you. As long as you were there, I would have been happy anywhere. A cocktail party, a war zone, or I don't know…spending time with your family?” He deliberately made it sound worse than being in a war zone to make her smile. It worked.

“I know. Talk about above and beyond the call of duty. Sometimes I wonder if it would have just been easier if we'd faked our own deaths and gone to live on a desert island somewhere.”

“Eh. I already thought that one through. Your father would have found us.”

She laughed again. “Yes, he would have. No doubt about it. Remember when…” Her voice trailed off.

“Yes, I do. I
do
remember when he LoJacked your car to make sure we were on our way to the Smithsonian benefit and not having a Five Guys burger in Alexandria,” Simon said, wanting somehow to make her remember. To see the old Sadie.

He felt like there was some kind of veil between them…like camo netting. He could see her, but he couldn't really
see
her. Couldn't reach the Sadie he had known.

He poured some more wine into her glass and paused the conversation as they gave their orders to the waiter.

“What's been going on since I last saw you?” he asked casually as if he desperately didn't want to know every last detail.

She took a sip of the icy wine and then licked the tip of her finger where moisture from the glass must have been. “After you disappeared, I quit my job, cut my hair…all those stereotypical things that we girls are supposed to do in the face of a breakup.” She stopped talking to take another sip.

He resisted the temptation to explain or apologize. He let the silence sit there.

“And I came here. Took an English-speaking job so I could afford a kebab and some wine every now and again, and started dating. What about you?”

He paused. It all seemed so logical, and yet his instinct told him something was wrong. All wrong. God, he wanted to shake her until the truth rattled out. But he wondered if he'd recognize the truth even if he got at it.

She was beginning to piss him off.

She wanted to have fun with him, like they used to. To banter back and forth, make light of the problems they faced with jokes and jibes.

He looked so good, sitting across the table from her as he'd done so many times before. Strong tan arms, with muscles that flexed just under the skin whenever he moved, short sandy hair—longer than the usual military style—that she used to run her fingers through when he kissed her, and intently blue eyes that were slow to smile…but when they did…She remembered the joy she felt when something she said creased his strong jaw and solemn face into a smile or even a laugh. What had happened to the two of them?

But she couldn't afford to mess this operation up or lose her job because she accidentally told someone what she did. And that included Simon. Oh sure, they were working for the same government, but she wasn't naive enough to think they always went about things from the same perspective or with the same goals. In fact, some of the biggest intelligence blowbacks had come precisely because of that gaping chasm between agencies. But it wasn't her job to fix that by breaking her oath as a CIA officer.

And of course, if she slipped up, let something out that she shouldn't, hinted at something, then Simon would be duty bound to report it to his superiors. So she was saving him from that decision too.

None of that changed one thing, though: She still wanted him. In all honesty, she could've made do just fine with her favorite vibrator that night she'd been so high off infiltrating Platon's meeting. She hadn't slept with Simon just because he'd happened to show up. She'd jumped on him because she'd wanted to feel that familiarity, that closeness with him. She'd missed it. She'd missed being able to turn to him for advice during her training. And yesterday, she'd tried to reconnect with that, but on her terms.

“How long are you in town for?” she asked, breaking the silence that he'd left hanging over the table, presumably in the attempt to have her fill it with more details about her life.

“I'm not sure. And I don't care; I have the nicest hotel room I think the government has ever given me.” He smiled and continued eating.

“What have you been doing since you got here?” she pressed on.

“Just looking around. What do you suggest I do?” She could have sworn he sighed.

“Well, the Acropolis, of course. The museum of archaeology is a great place too.”

He wiped his mouth with his napkin and threw it on the table. “Okay, we have to stop this. I'm frankly terrified that you're going to get up and disappear without us talking about something real. Like your young boyfriend. Like the danger you seem oblivious to. Like what the hell happened last night. And what the hell happened to you in this past year.”

She started at his vehemence and was forced to put a hand on his arm and look around to indicate to him that people were listening to his raised voice.

“Simon. What's the matter with you?” She could see him flexing his fists in his lap, so she knew he was trying to get a handle on this inappropriate anger.

An anger that was making her really wonder why he was really here and what was going on. Was he on a similar op?

“Okay; let's get out of here and talk where we won't be disturbing anyone else's dinner,” she said.

He threw way too many notes on the table, clamped his hand around her arm, and led her out onto the street. She could have gotten his hand off her in a second, but that would only expose her training, and she had to keep that buried around him. “Get your hand off me,” she hissed.

“No fucking way, princess. I'm still not sure you won't make a run for it.” But he did loosen his grip a little.

The streets were busy and noisy with people, which is pretty much what she loved most about Athens. It was kind of like New York in the number of people who stayed out partying all night.

He led her to a small street garden—a patch of grass with benches, where an ancient building used to be. Old ruined walls added to the seclusion and atmosphere of the place.

“Start talking,” he said, shoving her onto one of the benches and sitting.

“All of those things you asked—everything you want to know—are none of your business now. We're not friends. You made sure of that when you disappeared.” And when she'd realized she'd been his mark in Mumbai.

His jaw tightened in the moonlight. “So what was last night? You can fuck me, but we're still not friends?”

Ah, shit
. She looked away and gazed into the darkness of the park. “That was nothing. A mistake,” she said firmly, still not managing to meet his eyes.

She jumped as his fingers clasped her chin and made her look at him.

“We might not be friends, Sadie. But we are something.”

She moved her head so that he let go of her chin. “You used to tell me that I was your everything. Your port in a storm. Your sanctuary when you came back from a mission. Did you ever wonder what you were to me? You were the man who always disappeared. The man who was there but only until your phone rang. I loved you, but you were a ghost to me. Is that the ‘something' you mean?”

“Sadie.” He looked devastated, and she cursed herself for saying those things. As true as they were, she hadn't wanted to explore their relationship right then. Nor ever, if truth be told.

She lightened her expression. “But that's all just history, isn't it?”

He leaned in. She knew he meant to kiss her, and she wanted to move, wanted to slap his face and run. That's what she should have done.

Instead she allowed her mouth to open slightly as her eyes fluttered closed. Just one kiss. A safe good-bye kiss…and then all rational thought escaped her.