I listen as Eve scurries up the stairs to, I assume, the bathroom. I’m a dick. I know it. But I don’t like what she does to me. Don’t like what happens to me when I’m around her. Like this thing now, I can’t even think about that. When she made that comment about the graveyard, I got fucking pissed. But then she was there—so close—trapped. Trapped between me and the wall. Small and scared and at my mercy.

And all I could do was touch her. Kiss her.

Kiss her to shut her up? No. That’s a lie. I kissed her because I wanted to.

I shake my head and pick up a folder. I spent the whole of the morning at a fucking copy shop printing shit out. Now I’m taping all those photos up on the wall opposite the one with my men.

The doctor who saved me, Anthony Hassan, was a good guy. Is a good guy. His son—I called him Ace, never did get his real name—he’s my connection in the Middle East. If I need anything, he usually knows where to find me the answer. They risked their lives for me and although I know by contacting Ace, I’m breaking my promise to Anthony, I need his help. I’ll know in a few minutes if Ace delivered.

I hear her come into the room even though she’s trying to be quiet. I turn to her. She flushes pink and can’t hold my gaze, and all I can see is how she looked on her knees before me. Sucking my cock. Her little virgin tongue so wet, her mouth so hot.

But I can’t think about that now. I won’t be able to do what I came to do if I go down that road, and I already fucked up today. Because in a way, she’s right. This is a graveyard. And what I just did, I did before the dead.

“What are these?” she asks, walking over to the new photos I’ve just put up. Three are of the same man in various disguises. The others are different. I want to know if she recognizes anyone in particular. I hope she does because that will be my first lead.

“Is one of these men the one who gave you your passport?”

She shakes her head no, but I see her pause at each of the three images which are of the same person.

“Sit down.”

She obeys.

“Tell me what happened that last day.”

She studies me for a few minutes, and the look on her face is sad. Not pitiful, just sad.

“My brother came home that morning as usual, but he was irritable. Irritated with me. And maybe I was anxious, considering. He went to his bedroom to sleep. He always did that after being out for the night with Malik. He was always tired.” Her forehead creases and she’s looking off in the distance like she’s seeing it all.

“Stay with me, Eve.”

She startles and shifts her eyes to mine. “He asked me that afternoon why I was nervous. Said he was going to take care of everything. When I went to cook dinner, some men came over. It wasn’t that unusual for his friends to eat with us, but these men were…different. I didn’t know them. And they carried weapons into the house. In front of me. He didn’t usually allow that. That’s when Armen told me to sit down. When he...” she trails off.

“When he called you a whore?” I see that word upsets her and I’m not sure why I use it.

“I already told you all this.”

“Tell me again.”

“He said it was time for me to be punished. He injected me with something that knocked me out, and when I woke up, I was at that place. Where the auction was. My wrists were bound and I was gagged, but I could hear everything. It was a little while before Armen came though, and he didn’t come to me right away. He was talking just outside the room where I was being held. I remember he was speaking in English. I didn’t understand why.”

“English?”

She nods.

“Then the door opened and he dragged me out. I still remember how his eyes looked. The dark circles around them. The look inside them that for a second told me he didn’t want to do what he was about to do.”

“Put you up there to sell you?”

“Yes. The rest you know.”

“Tell me about passing out.”

She shakes her head. “There isn’t much to tell. I heard that explosion and my head hurt so badly I thought I’d been shot or hit by something else, shrapnel maybe. That’s all I remember. After that, I woke up in that room with that man waiting for me.”

“Passport man.”

She nods.

“He never mentioned his name?”

She shakes her head.

“You didn’t feel the need to ask?”

“I did ask. He said he was there on behalf of the US military. That was all he said. You have to understand, I was confused. In shock. He showed me photos of the place after the explosion. I saw bodies, Zach…” she closes her eyes and covers her face. “Parts of so many bodies. No one could have survived that.”

“Yet you and I both did. I told you this already.”

“You don’t know the state I was in. I’d just lost everything and it was my fault.”

I guess we had that in common.

Silence stretches out. I watch her. She’s seeing it all again. I know the look of someone losing themselves in memory. In guilt.

Slowly, she raises her eyes to mine, then drags them to the photo of the man I’m hoping she’ll recognize. When she gets to her feet, I don’t stop her. She moves to stand in front of it again.

“It’s him.” She touches it, covers his beard with her hand. “He didn’t look like that when I met him. He was clean-shaven. Wearing a suit. Hair lighter.”

In the photo, he’s got a full beard and he’s looking a little worse for wear.

She turns to me. “He told me the passport was in thanks for my part, even though the mission failed. He said they’d found me alive and rescued me and that I needed to get out of the country because if Malik found out I’d survived, he’d have me killed. I asked him about Armen, and he told me he’d died. I also asked him about you. He said you had cost them the mission.”

I can’t let myself linger on that. I can’t think about it. I take the photograph and look at it. Then I take out my phone and scroll through to an image I didn’t print. I hold up my phone to show her.

“Is this the man?”

She nods.

“His name is David Beos. He was supposed to have died almost four years ago.”

“What?”

“Car bomb exploded during his transfer to a military prison. The vehicle Beos was riding in was hit. The bodies were unidentifiable.”

“What had he done that he was going to prison?”

“Informant to Malik. He was a traitor.”

Color drains from her face. She’s putting it together now. I’m only one step ahead of her.

“Malik saved my life?”

I’m studying her, trying to make sense of this. “It’s the only thing I can think of. Your passport is a fake, Eve.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It wasn’t issued by the United States government. What I want to know is why in hell would Malik save your life? What value could you hold for him?”

“Do you think…could it mean Armen survived? Made a deal? Maybe Seth and Rafi—”

I shake my head. Most likely, they’re all dead, and she shouldn’t get her hopes up. “I don’t know. What I do know is that Malik’s associates rarely last more than a couple of months. He’s a burn the bridge kind of guy.”

“What do you mean?”

“He covers his tracks. Very well. It’s how he’s managed to stay ahead of the US and other enemies who have hunted him for years. We don’t have a single photo of his face. Not one. And that’s unusual. There’s always something, but he’s like a fucking ghost. Disappears just when you think you have him.”

“You want to find him, don’t you?”

Her question triggers something that’s been niggling at my brain for a long time.

Something’s wrong with this, with all of this. It stinks of a setup. All this while, I’ve thought she was part of it, but my gut is screaming no. It’s telling me she’s innocent.

And that maybe I don’t have to try to find him.

Maybe he’s found me.

She doesn’t wait for me to answer. “If he thinks you’re dead, why won’t you leave it alone? Live your life.”

“I’m not a coward, and I know the debt I owe to those who are dead.”

“You survived. There’s nothing you can do for the men who died. Revenge won’t bring them back.”

“Don’t you think I know that? The people or person responsible for their deaths deserves to pay.”

“You’re on a suicide mission.”

I chuckle and shake my head. “You still don’t get it.” I begin collecting the photographs hanging on the walls.

“Don’t get what?” she asks in a quiet voice.

I turn to her. “I was meant to find you. He knew I’d come looking for you.”

“What?”

“You’re a trap, Eve. You’ve been set up, and so have I. Again.”

She shakes her head, then drops down in the chair. I can see from the crease in her forehead, the intensity in her eyes, that she’s trying to make sense of what I’m saying.

“Get yourself together. We have to go. You have to go.”

“Where? Why?” she asks. She rises to her feet, rubs her face. “I don’t understand.”

I put the photos down and go to her, take her by the arms. “He expected me to find you. Make contact with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You were the bait. Malik somehow knew I survived. And I guess he knew I’d come looking for you once I learned you had too. I made it pretty obvious when I bid on you at the auction. It’s why he kept you alive.”

She’s processing slowly. Panic is rising, I can see it in her eyes. I squeeze my hands around her arms, shake her once.

“You need to keep it together. I have a contact, I’ll get you a new passport. A new name. You’ll have to leave Denver behind, but—”

“What are you talking about?” She shoves her hands against my chest, but I hold tight. “Let me go.”

“No.”

“This makes no sense, Zach. It’s crazy.” She squares her shoulders and looks at me. “You’re crazy. Paranoid and delusional.”

I snort. “I wish you were right.”

“Let me go. I’m leaving.”

“Yes, we are. You’ll drive home and get packed. I’ll get you settled—”

“You aren’t hearing me! I am leaving. Alone.”

I give her one hard shake. She’s wasting time now. She doesn’t believe she’s in danger, but if what I’m thinking is right and she’s worn out her usefulness, Malik will burn this bridge too.

“I can’t add one more name to the graveyard on my back, Eve. And I won’t add yours.”

She stops fighting, stills completely and looks up at me. I’m not sure whom I’ve surprised more by what I’ve said—her or me.

“Do you understand now?” I ask.

“I need to think. Make sense of it.”

Problem is, I’m not sure we have the time. I need to get her hidden before I leave to find Beos. I know he’s my link to Malik.

“Okay, take this afternoon. Go back to work. I’ll pick you up there at five to take you home to get your things.” And that will give me time to set up a hiding place for her.

She nods her head. “Okay.”

This is too easy. She agreed too easily. But I release her.

She takes a step and rubs her arms.

“You really shouldn’t stay here, you know,” she says.

“I can’t stay with you.” I wonder if she understands what I’m not saying. That for a while last night, I lost control. That with her, I need to be careful.

I can’t lose control with her.