Page 39 of Kept By The Agents

"Who was enough of an asshole to say that?"

"My parents. My sister. My grandmother. My best friend. My-"

"Okay, sorry I asked." His tone was soft and there was sympathy in his eyes. "If it makes any kind of difference, he's changed. He's as steady as a river now."

"He was a kid," I said. "We both were. He obviously wasn't ready to get married. At least that's what I always assumed."

"He never told you?"

"The night he grabbed me in that alley is the first time I've seen him since that day."

"Think you'll ever be able to put it behind you?"

"Yeah, Cat. Can you?"

We both turned and looked at the door. I hadn't even heard them come in. How could two men as large as them move so quietly? And why were they determined to ruin my dinner with their questions?

When I didn't answer, Suave sighed. "Looks like we need to have a long overdue conversation."

"I'm eating dinner," I told him. Turning back to my plate, I did my best to ignore him.

"You can come willingly, or I can bring you," he threatened.

"I vote for the latter," Brando piped in. "A lot more fun that way."

Giving him a snarky look, I stood. Bouncing around on Suave's shoulder wasn't something I wanted to do today. It was hard and lumpy and didn't feel too good lodged against my stomach. I'd already experienced what it felt like too many times for my liking. I raised my chin and swept past him, heading up the stairs.

"Have fun," Brandon called out as he sat down in front of my plate.

"That's mine!" I called down. His grin was patronizing and the last thing I saw before Suave hustled me inside my room. Before the door closed, I heard Brandon ask Weaver, "What the fuck is this? Is that corn?" A smile curled my lips. Served him right for taking my food. Though I thought they were all crazy for not liking corn in their spaghetti.

CHAPTER 17

Suave

How could I put off the talk now? I couldn't. Not after flying into a killing rage over the thought of that guy finding and hurting Cat. And especially not after walking in and hearing her and Weaver talking about it. The time had come.

I'd rather face a hundred Raleka fighters than talk about this. Rubbing the back of my neck, I watched her pace across the room.

"I owe you an apology."

She stopped, watching me like she was expecting some kind of trick. "You do," she agreed, "but you owe me more than that." Her hands were planted on her lush hips as she faced me.

Opening my mouth, I tried to tell her what had happened that day, so many years ago. The words stuck in my throat. "I'm sorry I left the way I did."

Her eyes narrowed. She was so damn beautiful and the best part was she didn't even realize it. She could have spent all this time crushing men's hearts, and yet I knew that she hadn't. "That's what you're sorry for?"

I frowned, going over my apology silently, unsure of why she looked pissed. "Yeeeeah," I said, hesitating as I said the word.

The angry look disappeared off her face and was replaced by hurt. "Wow, Darro."

"What?" I was lost.

She seemed to be swallowing back tears. They shimmered in her beautiful eyes. "So, you're not sorry that you left. Just how you left."

"What?" I asked again. "That's not what I said." Was it? The CIA might have trained me to resist an enemy government's interrogation, but that was nothing compared to a woman's interrogation.

"That's exactly what you said."

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