Page 111 of The Last Promise You Made

After I checked in with the man on guard out back and reassured myself Laredo’s men hadn’t followed us here—at least not yet—I stepped back into the kitchen. I dialed my brother’s number from memory, hoping he’d pick up even though I was calling from a burner phone.

A gruff, sleep-filled voice answered, “Hello?”

I cringed, realizing it was the middle of the night in Toronto, where Holden and The Painted Daisies were, if I’d kept his schedule right.

“Holden. It’s Gia.”

“What the hell is wrong with your voice?”

I swallowed, suddenly not wanting to lie about any of it to him. “That’s not what’s important at the moment. I have a question for you.”

“Seriously, G, what’s wrong?”

“How did you do it?”

He hesitated for a beat, and knowing my brother, he was trying to figure out how far to push me about my voice. He sighed, giving in and asking, “Do what?”

“Your job protecting Leya when you were attracted to her?”

“Hold on.” I heard rustling, a murmur of voices, a door shutting, and then he came back on the line, asking, “Where are you?”

“Tennessee.”

A small half-laugh echoed over the line. “The Hatley Ranch?”

I wasn’t there at the moment, but I knew what he meant. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Everyone there was in my face constantly about whatever the hell had gone down between you and Ryder. What did go down? And why are you back there?”

“When I was here last time, he caught me going through his office.”

Two long seconds passed before he asked cautiously, “Why the hell were you doing that?”

I inhaled slowly, debating, and then letting the air out with the truth. “You don’t really think I work for an agricultural journal, do you?”

“What? Yes, damn it. That is what I thought!” More silence that I didn’t fill as I let my smart brother catch up. “What are you telling me? You’re CIA?” He was upset. I’d known he would be if it ever came out, but there was more hurt and worry than anger in his tone.

“NSA Special Collection Service.”

“Jesus, G,” he grunted. “How the hell did you get mixed up with them? And what does this have to do with the Hatleys?”

“I can’t talk about the case—you know that. And what? I can’t serve my country like my dad and my brother?”

“Is this what really happened in South America? The time you told me you were surrounded by guerillas? They could have chopped you into bits and fed you to the crocodiles, and we’d never have known what happened to you.”

I let out a frustrated huff. “Look. I didn’t call to talk about what happened in the past. I’ve done a damn good job protecting myself and my team. I even made sure you had backup in Colombia. So, stop harassing me about my job and what I have or haven’t been doing. The only reason I’ve come clean tonight is because I need some perspective. How did you stay objective?”

Another long silence followed before he asked, “The CIA agent who helped us? That was your doing?” When I didn’t respond, he said gruffly, “Thank you.”

“Wait, what was that? Did Golden Holden just thank me for something? Wow. How bad did that hurt?”

He chuckled. “Come on, I’ve thanked you plenty of times. You were the reason Leya and I ended up at the Hatleys when we needed a place to stay, and I thanked you then.”

“Write it down in the record books. I’ve gotten thanked two whole times,” I teased, my chest lightening just from talking to him.

“Ha ha,” he said before clearing his throat and moving on. “So, you’re at the Hatley ranch, and you’ve got what? The hots for Ryder? And you’re worried it’s making you lose your objectivity?”

“I’d say it’s more than the hots, but yes,” I said quietly. The way I felt in Ryder’s arms… It had felt like…belonging. True belonging I’d never felt, even with my family. Maybe that was my fault because I’d been lying to them for years about who I really was, but no one had ever looked at me and seen me the way Ryder did. Tonight, as we’d lain there, hearts pounding and bodies still shaking, it was as if he read my entire history, every emotion I’d ever had, and still wanted me to stay.

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