he could help her find.
This oft-used code told her they were not alone. She couldn’t go into the back yet to say her goodbyes to Sean.
Goodbyes? She huffed, pretending to look at an assortment of candy. He didn’t deserve a goodbye, not really, not after what he’d done.
But this was Sean and she’d loved him for so long. She couldn’t help but feel as though the heavens had given her an added blessing, allowing her to hear his voice one more time.
If she were honest, something inside her, some small, foolish part, wanted to see his beautiful face one last time. To drown in the warmth of his eyes, touch his skin, breathe his scent. She craved this in much the same way she’d craved sex right after they’d married.
She’d given up sex. Certainly, she should be able to give up Sean. After all, she’d done so once already, two years ago. She’d gone on with her life and, while she couldn’t unequivocally say she was happy, she’d survived without him.
Sean. The love of her life. The one man she’d trusted. To learn he’d betrayed her hurt almost as much as his death.
Yet she couldn’t make herself walk away. Not without knowing why he’d done what he did. She should demand answers; hell, she deserved answers.
But did she really want to know? Could she really handle the truth, whatever that might be?
As she strolled nonchalantly around the small shop, she realized two things. One, though she’d never been a coward, she didn’t yet want to know the why of his defection. Someday, maybe. But not just yet.
And two, she couldn’t leave him. Not now, not until he was healed. And if some tiny, foolish part of her whispered never, she ignored it.
Finally, the other customer left. Auggie came to her and touched her arm. “Come on.”
Sean sat slumped over on the cot, his head down. He looked up when they entered, then looked away.
Natalie crossed the room silently and dropped down beside him. She motioned Auggie to leave, which he did.
Once the other man was gone, Sean raised his head, but still wouldn’t look at her. “You’re going,” he said. His voice sounded hollow.
Her throat ached. Wrapping her arms around herself, Natalie came to a decision. “No. I’m not leaving. I need your help,” she said softly. He met her gaze then, his own full of frustration and stubbornness and physical pain.
Swallowing, he dipped his chin. “I think maybe it’s the other way around.” He dragged a hand through his unruly hair. “I’m the one who needs help.” The soft gravel in his voice told her how much of an effort it cost him to say the words.
Despite herself, her heart melted. For sanity’s sake, she kept her expression stern. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“Help you go after the Hungarian? If so, I’m in. I want the bastard.” Now she had his attention. “I do think he’s responsible for what happened to my team. There are rumors that he’s running a major arms-smuggling operation. The code we were working on could be about that.”
He gave her a startled look. “Do you have any proof?”
“Not yet. But we figured out a rudimentary character-exchange system. Signal for phrases, that sort of thing. There was one section no one could crack. I’d planned to take a shot at it. Then my entire team was cut down in cold blood.”
“How?”
“Murdered at their desks.”
“At SIS? With full security on duty?”
“We worked a lot of nights on rotation. Someone disarmed the alarm and took out two of the guards. Everyone in the office that night died.”
“Except you?”
“I wasn’t there.”
“And the code?”
After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded. “All traces gone. Except for the copy I’d taken with me.”
“Do you still have it?”
“Yes.”
He swore. “I want that son of a—” Taking a deep breath, he met her gaze. “I want him, you want him and Corbett has offered to help. Don’t you think we have a better chance of taking him down if we work together than if we work separately?”
“Maybe.” She didn’t dare let her guarded hope show. “Are you proposing we work as a team? If so, then like I said a moment ago, I’m in.”
He looked down at his leg. “Are you sure?” he asked, quietly. “Before we do this, we both need to be one-hundred-percent certain.”
Even after two years apart, she realized he knew her too well, knew that she was offering this as a way to protect him.
“Please,” she added, because she didn’t know what else to say.
As he opened his mouth to speak, his cell phone rang.
Watching while he answered, again she was struck by his sheer masculine beauty. Her heart hurt.
How she’d missed him.
And, she thought bitterly, how she hated him for what he’d put her through.
“Here.” He handed her the phone. “It’s Corbett. He wants to talk with you.”
Gingerly, she took the phone and said hello.
“Your father’s worried about you,” Corbett said, by way of greeting. “Why haven’t you contacted him?”
Guilt made her wince. This was the first time in her entire career she’d had to ask her father, a former Lazlo operative, for help.
“You sent Sean,” she volleyed back. “You knew he wasn’t dead.” She couldn’t believe it. Corbett had known Sean was alive. As a family friend, Corbett had attended the funeral, offered his condolences, watched her suffer when with two simple words—he’s alive—he could have alleviated her agony.
But he’d never said them.
Then, when she’d been in the worst trouble of her career, she’d called her father and Corbett had sent Sean back to her. As if she wanted him back.
A horrible thought struck her. Had her father known, too? Had he withheld the truth, even as he comforted his grieving daughter?
The depths of such a betrayal would be impossible to fathom. Such a thing would rank right up there with her mother abandoning her when Natalie was six.
“I sent the best, per Phillip’s instructions.” Corbett’s clipped voice told her the subject wasn’t open for discussion. “Sean got you out, didn’t he?”
Clenching her teeth to keep from saying things
