Erika blinked her eyes open, trying to break through the haze clouding her mind. All she could think about was the need to run, to get out of there. Urgency roared through the fog swamping her brain.
The last thing she remembered was hitting her head on the tile floor in the bathroom and the impending sense of doom urging her to get to safety.
So how did she end up tucked under the covers in Jace’s bed?
Her blood ran cold as fragmented pieces of information came back to her. She and Jace had made love. Something else had happened, too. But what? Had she stayed the night?
Try as she might to reach out to her memories, they were out of her grasp. In fact, she couldn’t account for large gaps in time over the past few days. And where the hell was Jace?
She pushed up to sitting position, her head raging.
Forcing movement, she performed a quick inventory of her body. Her clothes were on. Nothing seemed broken or injured, although it hurt to move. Her gun was still tucked in her jeans, knife in her boot. So, no one had touched her weapons. She had no recollection of getting into Jace’s bed voluntarily.
What else had she brought to his place? Her purse. Where was her purse? Frantic, she surveyed his apartment for her handbag, scanning every surface and corner until she located it on the floor tucked against the bed.
Gingerly, she moved toward it, ignoring the drums pounding inside her ears.
How much did Jace know?
The thumb drive and her satellite phone were still tucked inside the zipped compartment on the inside lining of her handbag. He hadn’t touched her weapons and that had to be a good sign. Unless he was baiting her, letting her get closer on purpose to lower her guard before he struck.
The image was in stark contrast to the man who’d stood vigil over her while she’d been sick and exhausted. He could’ve done anything he wanted to her and didn’t. Didn’t that speak to his intentions?
Confusion clouded her judgment. Those damn headaches made it hard to think straight. Another one was forming, coming over her like a storm cloud, darkening the sky.
The sense of urgency was mounting, escalating, and all Erika knew for certain was that she needed to get out of there. She picked up her purse and raced for the door. Fear was a pit bull nipping at her heals.
The overwhelming need to get back to her place propelled her legs forward. It was a force stronger than the headache building.
Opening the door, bursting into the hallway, she froze at the sight of Jace rounding the top of the stairs.
“What’s wrong, baby-doll?” Concern creased the lines on his forehead. His blue eyes fixed on her as he moved toward her.
“I have to go.” She pushed past him, knocking his shoulder back, making a run for the elevator.
He didn’t make a move to stop her. He just stood his ground. “Stop, dammit. Don’t run away. We need to talk. I called your employer, Erika.”
Battling nausea, she put her hand on the wall to stop herself from falling as she pushed the elevator button for the fifth time.
“I know you lied about working there. They said they’d never heard of you. What the fuck’s going on?”
“Nothing. I’m a freelancer. I don’t technically work there. So what? It’s none of your business anyway.”
“Let me help you through whatever it is you’re going through,” he said, his voice laced with the tenderness from last night.
God help her, she wanted to believe he could. If he’d figured out her true identity, he was one hell of a liar and that scared her even more because she wanted to believe in him.
“I’m fine. I just need fresh air.” She turned away so he couldn’t see her face. The truth was she wasn’t fine. And she feared she’d never be fine again. If he hadn’t figured her out—God, was that even possible?—then maybe she could come back later. He’d been in a hurry to leave. Had he been in such a rush that he’d tucked her in his bed and then disappeared? It was possible. If he’d pinned her for being an officer then he would’ve made sure she couldn’t go anywhere until he got back.
“Bullshit, Erika.” The amount of hurt embedded in those two words kept her feet rooted even as the elevator doors opened.
“I’ll call you later.” Walking away from Jace was taking all the strength she had. Another headache was gripping her and she couldn’t risk staying this time. Even if everything inside her wanted to turn around and run into his arms—a weakness she couldn’t afford.
No way would she glance back, either. One look at him and she’d cave.
She’d already disobeyed a direct order and allowed him to live. She had some serious explaining to do at Sanctuary. That, she could deal with, not this. Looking into his eyes again would knife her. She’d bleed out.
Besides, what could she do? Quit her job and join him? Disappear? Go on the run with a man who was wanted by her employer—the US government?
There had never been a time when Erika had considered a man over her job. She was her job. She had to live her job. Anything less and she wouldn’t survive a day in her world. That meant making sacrifices. Forsaking other things—husbands, white pickets, kids—which felt less of a sacrifice when Erika considered that with her background she’d suck at them anyway. Kids deserved normal and she had no idea what the hell that was.
Except being away from Jace made her feel empty and confused, even though she’d convinced herself long ago that she didn’t want the whole marriage and minivan thing. That rarely worked out anyway. But the boyfriend thing could’ve been good. With Jace.
A hollow ache settled in her chest as the elevator doors started closing.
Erika punched the button for the ground floor, and then made a huge mistake. She looked at Jace one more time.
* * *
All Jace could do was stand there and watch Erika go. He’d tried to keep up the facade, even threw out that he’d called her work even though that was a lie. He knew everything about this relationship had been wrong and yet he’d been powerless to stop it.
Erika was a spy. He’d suspected it the first time he’d seen her in the bar. Then, when he’d pulled off her boots last night, the proof was there in the form of metal that weighed less than eleven ounces. He’d carefully placed her boots back on so she wouldn’t suspect that he knew and a few other pieces had fallen into place. He knew exactly who her father had been. Against all better judgment, Jace wanted to get to know her better. To—hell, he didn’t know—talk to her like a normal person for a change. Nothing about Jace’s family life had been ordinary, except to outsiders. Keeping up appearances had mattered to his social-climbing parents, and they’d been experts. The first time Jace had realized the bruises on his mother’s arms didn’t come from gardening he’d headed straight for his father’s home office to confront him. His mother had stopped him and begged him to leave it alone. She’d said that she loved his father and that the abuse was her fault. Jace had retreated into his own world when he’d realized he couldn’t help someone who refused to see the real problem.
And right now Erika was in the same boat, so he let her walk away. Telling her what he knew would make things worse for her. Wouldn’t change the job he had to do, either.
Maybe the past few months on the run had been making him soft. It was weakness that had him wanting to hold Erika all night. He’d been doing this job too long, been too lonely. Or maybe he thought he’d found someone who would finally understand his twisted life.
Jace did a mental head shake. None of that mattered. It was almost over. As soon as he knew for certain how deep Murdock was in, Jace would disappear. Making contact with Erika would be writing his own death warrant.
What if he’d told her the truth? It wouldn’t matter.
She’d find him and kill him, or he’d do the same to her. Either way, one of them had to die. His feelings for her complicated the situation. Hell, his whole career had gone FUBAR in a matter of weeks—why not his emotions, too?
Fuck.
He gripped Erika’s locket in his palm.
He’d expected Sanctuary to send someone, so he was already prepared, just not for her. If only she knew what was really going on, what this was really about.
Would it change things between them?