Chapter Thirty-Three

Angel felt Colton’s body tense when he realized she was there.

Not that she should be there.

She’d taken off. She should have kept going.

But before he’d left for work that morning, he’d said the same thing he always said. “If you’re not here when I get back, good luck and take care of yourself.”

He’d made it sound as if she would be leaving because she had no choice, but she’d seen the doubt in his eyes. He expected her to leave him like she had the last time.

Maybe it was because she didn’t want to let down another man in her life, or maybe it was that she was selfish and wanted to stay here with him. Whatever the reason, she couldn’t make herself go. She’d turned around and came back.

His response to her being in his bed was not what she’d expected. She’d hoped he’d pull her close and kiss her. Maybe those kisses would even lead to more.

It seemed she’d abandoned the plan to keep things professional at the same time she realized she couldn’t leave.

She remembered how amazing they’d been together. Now that she had admitted her need for him, she was ready to let him know how much she wanted him. But he didn’t seem to be in the same place.

He was still tense.

“You came back.” His voice barely moved the darkness.

“Yes.”

There was some shifting, then the light came on. He looked her over.

She hadn’t been brave enough to get into bed naked, so she was wearing a tank top and sweats. But his gaze seemed to go straight to her hands.

Was he expecting her to have something? A cup of coffee?

A gun?

He let out a breath and looked at her. It wasn’t a breath of relief that she was back. He didn’t look happy to see her. He looked…frightened.

“What is it?” she asked. He was a seasoned agent. It would take a lot to get him this worked up. Maybe he’d had a bad dream.

“Why did you kill your parents?”

She nearly fell off the bed at his question. Whoever their visitor had been, he’d planted doubt in Colton. Big doubt.

It was a familiar tactic. If you wanted someone to give up the other person, you had to make them a suspect. She hadn’t thought it would work so well on Colton. But then, she already knew he didn’t trust her. And for good reason.

She’d acted as though she’d cared for him. She’d said things to make him believe she was in the same place he was. And then she’d left while he was sleeping.

“He told you I killed them,” she whispered.

The only answer was a stony look while his eyes searched her face for the truth.

“You believed him.” It wasn’t an accusation, just a sad statement of fact.

“I don’t know what to believe. I know if you did it, there was a good reason. I hope there was a good reason.”

“Can I show you something?”

He nodded and she slid off the bed. She hurried to the living room to get the computer, and walked back as it booted up. Pudge followed her the whole way.

She crossed her legs and rested the laptop on her knees as she pulled up the browser and typed in the headline she knew by heart.

Cassandra Larson, sole survivor of heinous attack.

“Your real name is Cassandra?” he asked. She nodded as she tilted the screen toward him so he could read the appalling story of her past. “It was your brother?”

His whole body seemed to relax at the knowledge as she nodded in confirmation.

“You were hurt.” His eyes flared with concern, even though it was obvious she was fine now. Physically, at least.

She pulled the strap of her shirt down so he could see the worst of her injuries—the scar at her left collarbone. The one he was already familiar with from their lovemaking, though she’d never told him the truth about how she’d gotten it. Had the wound been a bit higher, she wouldn’t have been the sole survivor of the attack.

“Tell me what I’m not reading here,” he said, finishing the article, and she found that for the first time in her life she wanted someone to know what had happened to her. What had really happened.

And she wanted it to be Colton.