Page 61 of The Angel and the Agent

“He doesn’t actually work at the State Department. He’s just well connected,” Amelia said, squirming. Ethan’s hand slid to rest on her knee, giving it a pat. He had told her to say as little as possible, to let him handle it.I lie for a living. It’s harder than it looks.

“Washington’s a small world. Who is it?” Mr. Bauer pressed.

“The Colonel,” she blurted.

He smiled patronizingly. “Which one?”

“Colonel John Caruthers,” Ethan inserted smoothly. Mr. Bauer flinched and actually seemed to pale at the mention of the name. “Yes, good, well everything seems to be in order here, though no one told me you were here to get married.”

“It was spur of the moment,” Ethan said. “We came to vacation, and I talked her into it.”

Amelia wanted to blurt things. She had never been good at deception, and now words and assertions wanted to blather out of her like hot lava. She sat on her hands, trying not to say anything else.Keep it simple,Ethan had warned.Good liars take a spark of truth and stick to it. Bad liars elaborate. Resist the temptation.

In her mind, all kinds of concocted stories were swirling, detailed, fantastical excuses for why she and Ethan had come to Cameroon and what they’d done since they’d been there. One of them involved pirates, a search for hidden treasure, and possibly a dolphin rescue.Don’t talk, don’t talk, don’t talk,she warned herself.

Her passport was in his hand. All he had to do was stamp it, and they could leave, but he seemed content to linger, tochat. “You’re a well-traveled young lady,” he said, staring at her passport.

“I am?” Amelia asked and then, when he gave her a questioning look, “I mean, I love to travel so much it doesn’t feel like I’ve been that many places.”Or anywhere ever.

“I’d say eleven countries by the age of twenty three counts as widely traveled,” Mr. Bauer said. “Twelve, including Cameroon.” He stamped the passport and handed it over.

Amelia nodded, not trusting herself to speak again. Ethan wrapped things up with the man, recounting all the fun, make-believe adventures they’d had in Cameroon. It sounded like complete gibberish to Amelia, but Mr. Bauer ate it with a spoon.

“And when do you head back?” Mr. Bauer asked.

“Day after tomorrow,” Ethan said, surprising her again.

They shook hands with the man, thanked him for his help, and then they were on their way.

“Day after tomorrow?” she questioned when they were safely outside. “I thought you said we were leaving tomorrow.”

“When I was describing all the fun, made up things we’d done, I felt a little bad we hadn’t actually done those things,” Ethan said.

“You want us to go back and re-do the trip so you won’t feel guilty for lying to the embassy?”

“No, I felt bad for you, that your entire time here has been fear and worry and hunger, hiding, and escape. So I was thinking tomorrow maybe we could have a day of fun.”

“That sounds suspiciously like a honeymoon,” she said.

“Not to me. Anytime I pictured a honeymoon, it didn’t involve leaving the hotel,” he said. “Speaking of which.” He put up a hand, hailing a taxi. Once they were tucked inside, he gave the driver their destination: “Hilton,s’il vous plait.

Outside it was growing dark. Amelia stared up at Ethan’s handsome profile, her heart flip flopping around inside herchest, and added her own direction to the driver.Va vite:go quickly.

Chapter 22

Amelia sat in the lobby of the Hilton, staring at her passport while Ethan secured their room. Why had Blue made up so many differing country visits for her? It seemed to go against what Ethan told her, to keep it simple. To further the lie, she would have thought Cameroon would have been her first and only stamp.

“Ready?” Ethan asked. She tucked her passport in his pack and followed him to the elevators that took them to their room.

“A king size bed,” she exclaimed when he held the door and allowed her to precede him inside. She took off her shoes and flopped on the bed, stretching out her arms and legs as if about to flap them and make a bed angel. Ethan took off his shoes, set down his pack, and lay down beside her.

“It takes so little to please you,” he noted.

“I wish I could have a king size bed, but my apartment is microscopic. Before I got my own place, I spent four years sleeping on a dorm-room bunk bed. And the last couple of nights, I shared a bed with you, giganthor. Muscles are all well and good until they take up two thirds of available space. Might want to dial down the ‘roids, just saying.”

“I have news for you: you were the one chasing me all over the bed. I’ve never felt so hunted. Every time I tried to find some space, you were on me like a lamprey checking for parasites. I thought it was some kind of commando cuddling technique, but you were dead asleep. You’re sleep needy.” He poked her.

“I’m like a heat-seeking missile when I sleep. I go where the action is.” She reached out and ran her fingers gently through his hair.

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