Page 123 of The Truths that Deceive

But there’s a hint of amusement in his voice, and as I pass him, he mutters something.

I turn. “What was that?”

“I said Smith’s finally met his match.” Then he leans in. “Not that you’ll get the chance, where you’re going, but… don’t go around fucking trying to sterilize men who’re trying to help you.”

“And here I was, thinking a man like you doesn’t want kids.”

He snorts and leads the way to a room where he shoves open the door. “I don’t. But options, y’know.”

My heart starts to go crazy as I step into the room on wobbly legs and catch sight of Smith. “You’re all right. I thought you’d died.”

“Twice? I’m not that easy to kill, sweetheart.” He stretches out on what looks like the world’s most comfortable hospital bed. “He likes you.”

“Who?”

“The psychotic killer who just brought you in.”

“I think he likes getting zapped in the balls.”

We’re lying to each other again, being giddy, almost airy with words, like this is just a fun day, and death and carnage and my end aren’t waiting around the corner.

Not a real end, but my freedom.

The CIA’s not ever letting me go.

“I’d get you too, but he took my stun gun.”

Smith closes his eyes and sighs, and with that soft sound, the laughter drains away and a heaviness settles.

“I’m sorry about Riley. He…”

“He was what?”

“I really don’t know. But he might have been on our side.”

“Guess it doesn’t really matter, does it? He’s dead.” I swallow hard. “W-when’s Johnny coming to get me? Is it him? Do you think I can see Henry before I go?”

“No one’s coming. Shit, I should have just done this when I had the plane blown?—”

“What?”

I go completely still as heat sears up the back of my head to plug into my temples, making them unbearably tight.

“That plane, I might have had it blown up.”

“That’s insane.” I stumble to his side and sit on the chair. “I honestly don’t know what to be mad at. The damn tickets to DC or that, or… I don’t know, what else did you do?”

My voice is rising because I don’t want this. I want him to grab me and kiss me. For him to tell me he loves me—which is just never happening—and that we’re running off together.

“You can’t see your brother.”

I push up from the seat. “No. I’m going to be locked away. And I don’t care how nice it is, how good they make it, I won’t have a lick of freedom. I’ll be forced to work for them until I actually die for real, and you’re saying I’ll never get to see my twin?”

“Calista—”

“No!” I hold up a hand to stop him as I look wildly around. “No, don’t you dare tell me I’m overreacting or that it’s not that bad. I helped the CIA, I helped you and your merry band of killer hot men, so I don’t think it’s unreasonable to want to see my brother. Did you know Felicity Trenton took down all her social media? And those bank accounts I told you about are drained? What?—?”

“Calista,” he says. “Of course she did, and I believe we did that to the accounts. We have ways.”

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