Spy Games (Tarnished Heroes #1)(55)

Sarah placed the firearm in the nightstand drawer and considered what to do next. She wanted to strip down, crawl in bed and go to sleep. But what made sense? Her mind was so fuzzy, it was hard to think.

She spent a few moments washing her arm in the hall bath, applying a bit of ointment to the skin around her stitches. Rand was right when he said it would be an ugly patch-up. Her scars would be worse, but at least she was alive and the damage superficial.

How was she going to explain that to her family next time she saw them? The old scars had begun to age and fade. The new one was going to be obvious to them.

Sweaters. She needed a large collection of cardigans and long-sleeved shirts so she could just avoid that topic for a while longer.

The side door creaked open. Sarah held her breath.

“It’s me,” Rand said, his voice soft.

She exhaled and met him in the living room.

“High fences. Neighbor’s got a couple dogs. Good spot.” He shrugged out of his coat. “We’ll be safe tonight. Come here.”

She walked into his arms, needing that touch, his support.

“Everything’s going to be okay, Bitsy. I promise.” He kissed the top of her head.

How could it be okay when people were dying? She didn’t see it.

“Come on, let’s get some rest.”

She led him into the bedroom and toed off her shoes. As much as she wanted to get undressed and feel the sheets and Rand’s warm body, she couldn’t. They had to be ready to go at a moment’s notice.

Sarah lay down on top of the comforter, pulling an extra blanket up over her, and stared at the ceiling. She listened to Rand lay his coat on the bench at the foot of the bed, stash his guns, dig in the bag.

This was what she’d signed up for. It wasn’t just the carrying stuff place to place, it was this, too. They’d told her she’d never get into trouble, that stuff like this just didn’t happen… Well, she was ready to call bullshit. If this stuff never happened, why had they insisted she go through training? How had they landed themselves in this mess?

Rand flipped off the lights and lay down next to her, fully dressed save for his shoes. He draped his arm over her waist and kissed the back of her neck.

His presence made her feel safe, but that sensation hadn’t stopped the death so far. It wouldn’t next time, either.





Chapter Thirteen


A long, high-pitched creak woke Sarah from the sleep of the dead.

She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Rand stood with his back to the wall, gun in hand, edging closer to the door. Sunlight streamed through the leaves of the tree outside the window.

Shit.

It was later than Sarah had thought she’d sleep. She got up and shoved her feet in her shoes.

“Rand—wait,” she whispered. “It’s going to be Julie.”

“Hello?” a woman’s voice called out.

“Is that—”

“Julie, hi. It’s Sarah.” She rushed out the door ahead of Rand.

An older woman with honey-blonde hair stood in the doorway. She breathed a sigh of relief, and her shoulders slumped.

“Good God, Sarah. Where have you been? You’ve had everyone worried sick about you. Come here.” Julie wrapped her arms around her. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry.” Her voice was muffled by Julie’s jacket.

“What happened?” Julie held her at arm’s length, deep lines of worry etched into the woman’s face. “The last I heard, you were headed out and then—nothing. No one’s heard from you in days.”

“Oh, uh, I missed my flight and things sort of got crazy.” Sarah shifted her weight. Last night she’d briefly thought up a story, but in the light of day it wasn’t really making sense.

“Ah, hello there.” Julie stared over Sarah’s shoulder, brows arched.

Sarah glanced behind her at Rand. His hair stuck up every which way, he’d removed his jacket, and the threadbare shirt clung to his chest. The way his belt hung half buckled suggested he hadn’t been dressed long.

No. No. No.

Sarah wanted to shove Rand back into the bedroom. This was not the right time to play the “whirlwind lovers” card.

“Julie, this is my friend Rand. We grew up together.”

He pushed off the wall and crossed the living room, offering his hand and an easygoing smile.

“Oh really?” Julie’s smile slowly widened.

Fuck. She’d walked into that one.

Julie was a romantic, always shoving some new book about angsty lovers into everyone’s hands. Sarah had been sucked into them to the point where she just picked up whatever bag of books was up for grabs on her way through the office. She knew what Julie was thinking, because she’d put those books into Sarah’s hands plenty of times.

Only, people didn’t die in Julie’s books.

“It’s my fault she missed her flight,” Rand said with a cheeky smile.

“It was an accident, and then there was a misunderstanding,” Sarah said in a rush.

“I see.” Julie glanced from Rand to Sarah. “Well, make sure to call your family and let them know you’re okay. They’ve just about crawled up Amanda’s butt.”

“Crap.” Sarah scrubbed a hand over her face. Of course. When they couldn’t locate her, they’d start asking around. Trying to find her. Wishing Well was a very connected organization that worked more like an extended family than a company. It’d be all hands on deck trying to find her.