[You’re sure about this?]
[Positive. This is what I do.]
I was a little stunned. [Any known connection to Alec Stratton?]
[No. This has covert op written all over it. I hate to tell you, but someone at the agency wants you dead.]
“That son-of-a-bitch,” I muttered.
[Thank you.]
[Anytime.]
I slipped the phone back into my pocket.
Tyson’s curious gaze begged for an answer.
A slew of images flashed in my head. The floodgates had opened. Memories poured in—an overwhelming onslaught. I thought my brain would fry. Random puzzle pieces of my past flickered. Now, it was up to me to sort them out and put them all together. The series of images ended with a vision of me putting a bullet into Ross’s brain.
Maybe these weren’t all memories.
"What is it?" Tyson asked.
I exhaled a sigh of relief and devastation—the truth had become evident, and it wasn't pretty. “Nothing. Just certain things are starting to make sense.” I didn’t want to get him riled up.
“Like what?”
“Don’t worry about it. We can talk about it tomorrow.”
His gaze persisted. He wasn’t going to let this go.
"Ross wants me dead," I said.
"Why?"
"Because I can expose him.” I paused. “This was never about Phaxelon. Stratton didn’t send those assassins.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I recognized one of them.”
It was there the whole time. I just couldn't grasp it until now. It was still kind of hazy. I didn’t have all the answers yet, but I was getting closer.
"Want to tell me what's going on?" Tyson asked.
"Get some rest. I've got some things to sort through. Pieces to put together.”
"You can't leave me hanging like that."
I took his hand. “Trust me. It’s better if you don’t know.”
His face tightened. He didn't like it, but he understood. "What are you going to do?"
I smiled. “I’m not going to do anything. I’m going to stay here and take care of you. You stayed by my side when I was in the hospital. The least I can do is return the favor.”
His skeptical eyes surveyed me.
“Relax. I’m not looking for any more trouble right now. We’ll sort this out later.”