Spy Games (Tarnished Heroes #1)(46)

He couldn’t, though. He was a different person now. He was a covert operative for the United States. Men like him didn’t get second chances. They didn’t get nice, normal lives.

Yes, he was deluding himself in these hours, thinking he could have something with Sarah that lasted longer than this op. Letting himself live the fantasy made their cover story ring true. But he couldn’t perpetuate this lie that they could have more than what they were now. His premature confession would have to go back into the vault.

Loving someone was a risk. A luxury. And it was time to wake up to that reality. If he screwed up, if he let himself wallow in her presence, he’d get them both killed.

The waiter finally came by to take their orders and deliver their drinks.

Rand had to be honest with her. He couldn’t lie, but he couldn’t lead her on. They had to come to…an arrangement.

“What’s going on over there?” Sarah’s voice broke into his swirling thoughts.

“Not a lot. They were just served.”

“So they’ll be done before we are.”

“Probably.” He focused on her face.

They descended into silence. She mindlessly moved the utensils around, arranging them just so. He rolled the situation around in his head, finding no other alternative than the obvious.

This was simply how things were.

The waiter arrived with their dinner about the same time as he gave up fighting with the reality of his world.

“Listen, I want to talk about…us.” He braced his forearms on the table.

Sarah closed her lips around her fork, eyes wide.

He really hadn’t meant to wait until she had food in her mouth, but it was a convenient way to allow him to power through this.

“I will always…care for you. Which is why, I think we need to be clear about our priorities. When this job is over, I’m likely going back into the field. So are you. Given our history, I don’t want you to be surprised when I have to go again. What we are here, now, it’s both organic—chemistry. And it’s the cards we were handed.”

Sarah chewed slowly, her dark gaze showing nothing of her thoughts.

He searched around for more words to soften the blow, to gentle his words. She kept chewing, hardly blinking. He tapped his fingers on his thigh, wishing she’d hurry up and say…something.

Sarah swallowed and reached for her glass, sipping the water as though he wasn’t waiting on pins and needles for her protest.

“Is that it?” she asked.

“Well…yeah.”

“Did you want to add anything else?”

“No… I just wanted to be clear with you.”

“Well, thanks.”

“‘Thanks’? That’s it?”

“What am I supposed to say, Rand? When I said as much to you, that there wasn’t an us—because my priority was seeing this through—you got your boxers in a bunch. You stormed out on me and treated me like…”

“That was different.”

“How was that different? I was trying to be honest with you and you wouldn’t listen. Now you say the same thing to me, like…you expect me to flip the table at you?”

“Look, what I’m saying is that—there’s something between us, but I can’t commit to more than here and now.”

Sarah tipped her head back and groaned. “Because that’s so different from what I said. Awesome. Great. Thanks for clearing that up.”

“That’s not what you—”

“Rand. Shut. Up.” She dropped her fork onto the plate with a clatter. “I get it. You want to screw me, but you can’t commit. Communicated loud and clear.”

“That’s not—”

“How is that different?” She leaned forward, staring at him.

He glared back, grinding his teeth together.

What he felt went deeper than wanting to fuck. He cared for her, but caring for her meant leaving. Doing his job. Being the tool he’d been shaped into. If she couldn’t understand that, well, maybe it was better if they left things this way.





Chapter Eleven


Sarah stalked into the elevator and crossed her arms over her chest.

Rand took up a spot on the other side, a group of four between them.

Good.

She needed the space. To get away from his stupid, boneheaded man-brain.

He had some nerve to try to school her like that. How many times had he taken her words, twisted them, then used what she’d been trying to say as his original idea? He could be so damn irritating. Why had she ever thought sleeping with him was a good idea?

God, she just wanted to wrap her hands around his neck and squeeze. She’d said almost the exact same thing to him and he’d gone into a man-sized temper tantrum over it. He didn’t listen to her, not really, and that was what drove her up the wall. She could talk—scream—and he’d never really hear her.

Why was he so infuriating?

She couldn’t wait to be free of him. Of the way he crawled under her skin to poke and prod at her. He couldn’t go with the flow, he couldn’t be the shoulder for her to lean on or watch her back, no. He had to pick at her. Constantly.

It was like they were kids again, always fighting. Only now, they didn’t have Mom and Dad there to tell them to go to their corners.