Page 23 of The Truths that Deceive

“Why did you run from the CIA if you weren’t guilty?”

She swallows. “Someone got into my work. I received a threat.”

“And you didn’t report it?”

“They were looking at me funny, Smith. Questions started coming up about my agent. And what could I say? That he asked me to keep his going deep a secret? I know how that looks and?—”

“What was the threat?”

“Just like the one you made… it was against my brother.” Her voice drips with dislike. But behind that dislike is fear. “A photo.”

That’s a threat all right.

“And what about Estonia? The Collectors?”

She’s quiet. Then she breathes out, pulling off the ugly wig that failed epically to make her less attractive. “A source and I don’t know. You snatched the phone before I could investigate.”

Calista’s lying. It permeates the air. But lying about what and why is the intriguing part. Is there someone the government’s interested in who was a Collector?Isa Collector?

I’m guessing yes, because there were plenty before we decimated them, and there are enclaves now. Rich people who think they can do anything, who want more than they should, are dangerous, and always watched on some level.

But the Collectors operated for years without being torn apart. Until the Knights. Until they dared touch my daughter.

I study Calista, how she swallows like her nerves are picking and poking away at her throat. How she moves like her limbs aren’t her own.

She’s nervous. Scared. And angry.

“So you just decide to fuck around like you can do anything?” I say, poking the bear. “This isn’t a game. Anyone could follow you.”

“No one is.”

She never saw me, so doubtful she’s even aware who is out there. I shrug, noting the thread of panic in her tone. “We’ve been lucky. The earlier rain cleared the streets. Made anyone following either disappear or easier to spot.”

“I know,” she says. “I’m not an idiot. Just let me go. I’ll?—”

“What? Turn up at a designated time and place as long as I let you do your thing?” I ask.

Because the thing is, the Collectors, or someone involved with them, might be at the center of this. I don’t need to know what the weapon does. I can guess at the usual suspects interested in it.

And maybe she’s the one who got her agent snatched so she could sell blueprints, or just information. It’s not a far stretch for someone like her to put all the scattered pieces together—scattered pieces the CIA uses to protect—and sell to the highest bidder.

Like someone in the Collectors. Someone who escaped our big purge.

Calista Price with her skills and youth would be perfect to carry that out.

Throw in the brother as the reason why she did it if she’s caught?

Perfection.

I cross over to her. She flinches but stands strong. The air crackles as I get close, a pull to each other that neither wants. A pull we both want to dive into.

“Tell me,” I say, capturing her chin and tilting it. There’s more than one way to pursue prey. I bring my mouth close, skimming over hers. “Tell me what you know.”

“Even if I knew something,” she whispers, her lips seeking mine. I don’t even think she’s aware of it. “Telling you the tiniest thing amounts to treason.”

I slip an arm low on her waist and she flows up into me. I’m fucking hard. This girl makes me beyond hard. She’s like a fucking walking ball of freshly minted hormones masquerading as human.

Fuck, do I remember that feeling.

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