Spy Games (Tarnished Heroes #1)(5)

She’d known who he was? And she hadn’t sold him to the Koreans? After what he’d done to her brother?

Holy hell.

“I’d love to catch up and all, but I’m going to lose my nerve if we don’t do this right now.” Her voice was steady, but reed-thin. It was hard to imagine the girl he’d grown up with, scared of her own shadow, here. In the middle of all this shit.

Which brought him crashing into the present.

Sarah had a tracker in her arm. A device that endangered her life. And it was up to him to cut it out or kill her. Because he would not allow her to be captured. He’d rather take the bullet himself if he could, but if it came down to getting captured or dying, a fast death was kinder.

He swallowed. The part of him that had always been drawn to her smile was repulsed by the idea of ending her life, but he knew what torture did to a person. How it warped them. That couldn’t happen to her.

He set the basket down and lined up the supplies, grounding himself using the momentary activity. He’d save her life, and then get some answers.

“I’ve got these for later.” He shook a bottle of painkillers. “I’d give them to you now, but you look like hell. I don’t want them to knock you out.”

“Gee, thanks.” One side of her mouth twisted up.

He remembered that smile, how she used to pull his leg, make him think he’d hurt her feelings. Those were the worst, those few moments he spent kicking himself for being scum, and then she’d laugh at him. Man, she’d been a brat sometimes.

He twisted open a topical anesthetic and waited for her to extend her hand toward him. Her throat flexed. The girl he remembered used to cry over a skinned knee, and now he was asking her to hold it together while he cut a chunk of skin out of her. He couldn’t decide if he was more proud of her, or disgusted with what he had to do.

Rand traced the six-inch scar. He hated seeing the lasting marks of pain on her body. She was all his best memories of the life before rolled into one person. He’d wondered about her often enough over the years, and now here she was. The best damn thing he’d seen in ages.

“How’d this happen?” He slicked the liquid over her skin.

“Long story. I’ll tell you about it later.” She gripped the edge of the counter. Her face creased in anticipation of pain.

“I’ll hold you to it.”

He was thirsty for more. Anything to do with Matt, Sarah, their family. He’d grown up across the street from them. Their parents had been best friends, and Matt was practically his brother. Sarah, though, he’d always felt closer to her. Being without them these eight years…he’d missed part of himself. But after what he’d done, he couldn’t be near them. Going cold turkey without them had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done.

“This is going to hurt some. It’s scar tissue, so it shouldn’t be as bad. You can’t scream, okay?”

“Do it already,” she snapped.

He felt for the chip again.

There, just under the surface.

He uncapped the scalpel and pressed the tip along the scar that ran the length of her forearm.

What kind of an accident had she been in that caused this? The most dangerous thing Sarah had ever done growing up was volleyball. He couldn’t even coax her up into his treehouse, for Christ’s sake.

“Come on already,” she snapped.

Rand applied more pressure to the blade. She hissed. The skin yielded, blood bubbling up, but he didn’t stop.

He couldn’t allow himself to get caught up in the reality that this was Sarah. His Sarah. Right now she had to be another operative, someone who knew the score. The tracker had to come out, or they were both dead. The how or why she’d been burned—or what the hell she was doing here in the first place—didn’t matter right now, only that he could save her. The cut-throat voice in the back of his head pointed out that she also knew his name, where his parents lived, and other crucial information he could not allow to fall into the wrong hands.

But this was Sarah.

Her name was a punch to the gut. The smell of her brought back all the old memories of Christmases and summers spent together. She was so much more important than another agent or asset.

She was…his.

Rand shut the door on that thought before it led to more. There was too much history, too much shit, in their past.

First, he’d cut the chip out. Then, he’d figure the rest out.

“I’m going to be sick.” Sarah panted, slumped over the sink.

“Almost got it. Hang with me.” He needed to distract her. Get her talking. “How’re your parents?”

“Good.”

“Seen Mom and Dad lately?”

“Seven months ago?”

“How’re they looking? Dad’s knee holding out?”

“Yeah, I think so. Oh, God.” She buried her face against the crook of her other arm.

He grabbed the tweezers and worked the tiny bit of metal out from the tissue. “Got it.” He dropped it into the drain and turned on the water.

The MSS guys could chase that for a bit. Good luck to them.

“How you holding up?” He poured the peroxide on her arm.

Sarah’s eyes bulged and she grabbed a towel, covering her face with it. She smothered a yell and stomped her foot. The liquid bubbled and frothed. It wasn’t kind. He could be gentler, but there wasn’t time for that.