Page 48 of The Truths that Deceive

Only he’s dragging this whole thing out, hopping between countries without giving me any reasons why.

There’s one fact, though.

We’re enemies.

Him and me.

There’s no denying that.

I put a hand in the pocket of the skirt, and it touches the smooth, now-warm steel blade I stole from the kitchen.

An ugly thought nips at my brain.

He’s asked mostly about the Collectors when he’s questioned me.

Not my CIA agent.

Not what I know about the weapon, which isn’t much, and what I do know is disjointed.

Yet he claims the weapon and whatever I might know is the story behind why I’m being escorted back.

Story.My mind snags on that.

He’s not CIA or government now. He lies when telling the truth. It’s a gift. A dark one. And he does that to me. I keep asking and he keeps giving me the truth wrapped in nothing. My “who are you” questions are met with generic answers.

Meanwhile, there’s someone who doesn’t want me to put whatever they think I have in the right hands. Whatever that is.

I need to get away.

With a slow look around, my stomach drops. There’s no way I’ll get to the four-by-four outside. But I’m not waiting for whatever he’s waiting for.

“Put my computer away, there’s nothing on there.”

To my surprise, he does just that. Closes the lid and slides it into the backpack.

“You’re wrong, Calista. There’s a lot on there.” He links his fingers over his abs and meets my gaze, taking me in like he can see inside my soul. “I’m still deciding if it’s of interest.”

“I thought you were just paid to deliver me. You said you don’t care about anything more.”

“True, but I’m a curious kind of guy.” Then he sighs. “Sit down or go back to bed.”

“I’m not tired.” I try not to search out a path of escape with my gaze. I’m thinking the tangle of jungle is my best bet. All through this region, according to Sofia and her chatter, are farms, little towns, and communities. The bigger city, as she calls it, is closer to the water, and I know which direction that’s in. But I don’t want to race down random roads where Smith can track me.

The jungle offers more hiding places.

And then what?

I don’t have a passport.

Ways and means always exist, and while I don’t know anyone in the region, I can do it.

Running and doing things my way seems better than waiting for a man who’d sell me on the black market if I was able to command a good price.

“Go to fucking bed. We’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

“Why were you on my computer?”

His grin is dark and humorless, and it sends shivers of need through me. I know I’m fucked up, because that smile shouldn’t turn me on. It’s a smile that tells me he’ll devour me and leave nothing in his wake, not even my bones.

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