Page 87 of The Truths that Deceive

Chapter 24

Calista

Of all the places I expect him to take me to, the last one is a gorgeous three-story house in Brooklyn’s Park Slope.

The sun’s starting to spread a little light into the horizon, and even though I slept on the plane, I’m exhausted. But I’m still not exactly ready to pass out. My nerves jitter too much for that.

At least we’re not in DC.

He hasn’t handed me over.

Yet.

Smith shows me around the place—living area and kitchen on the first floor, study and a more informal living room on the second, a gym, and finally a top floor that houses a master bedroom with a balcony. He takes me back down to the second floor and opens a door I didn’t see the first time around, one that leads to a spare room and an en suite bathroom.

“You can have this.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t have any clothes for you.”

“Is this your way of telling me you want me naked?”

“This is my way,” he says, frowning, “of saying I’ll have stuff delivered. Let me find you something to sleep in.”

“Smith…”

He’s halfway to the door when he stops and comes back over to me. I ease my aching feet out of the stupid heels. Superpower or not, it’s time to turn back into Clark Kent.

“Yeah?”

“What are you planning to do?”

“Depends on you. Are you going to run?”

“I…” He’s not asking about a sexual game or even about him chasing me down. It’s a weird trust question. At least, I think it is. “I don’t know.”

“Your brother goes to school here.”

My heart hammers. “I’m not about to put Henry in danger.”

“Good to know.”

“Are you asking me for a truce?” I ask.

The wig’s off and he smooths fingers through my hair, the heat of him spiraling down into my flesh and bones.

Smith shifts the conversation. “I can work with you to see if this guy Trenton is alive, as long as you help with the information on the Collectors and any other big red flag sex traffickers.”

I frown. “Aren’t they all red flag?”

“You’d be surprised.”

My stomach twists and turns. He smells of sin, darkness, and smoke. Just at the edges.

I don’t know if his cynicism is making my defenses rise or if I’m turned on by his closeness.

Maybe both.

“And the weapon?” I ask.

“That you don’t know anything about.”

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