Amanda and I close the space between myself and Bear, our pace even, unrushed. We stop a foot from him. Bear gives me a nod and then focuses on Amanda. “Dr. A. Isn’t that what they call you?” he asks, still leaning on the car, which I’m certain is because he’s six-foot-five and, for the moment, doesn’t wish to intimidate Amanda. As if he could.

“That was in my tamer years,” Amanda replies, setting Julie down, and proving my assessment as accurate with her quick-witted reply. “Before I became the killer the agency wanted me to be,” she adds. “Now, I’m called the Poison Princess.”

“I’ve heard not to touch you,” Bear replies. “That it could be lethal.”

“She doesn’t have to touch you to kill you,” I offer, setting the bags down. “I’ve watched men across the room drop.”

“A good friend to make and a bad—”

“—enemy to have,” I supply, a saying that actually originated with me when I was on a mission with Bear years ago.

Bear eyes me. “And yet you always survive her.”

“Yes,” I say. “I do, which is why you called me to get her, and we both know it.”

Julie meows, and Bear’s eyes rocket to the carrier. “Is that a cat?”

“Since dogs don’t meow,” Amanda says, “I think that makes you good at stating the obvious.”

“Why do you have a cat?” he asks, looking between us. “Does Franklin like cats?”

“She’s an attack cat,” Amanda says. “Lethal. I’ve trained her to rip her claws right across the line of the neck.”

I manage a straight face with effort, which isn’t a problem I often entertain. Bear studies her a moment, and laughs. “Attack cat,” he says, stroking his goatee. “That’s funny. I actually love cats. I grew up with a cat as a best friend. Sheila, I called her. Best woman I’ve ever known.” He pushes off the car, towering over Amanda now by a foot, but his energy is relaxed. “Can I say hello to her?”

“No,” Amanda says firmly. “She doesn’t like you.”

He arches a brow. “She hasn’t met me.”

“But I have.”

He levels a stare on Amanda, clearly focused on her in this meeting, not me, and while I could intervene, I do not. Amanda is also focused. She’s re-establishing herself again with the agency, and I let her do her thing. “I didn’t have anything to do with your kill order or that of your parents.”

“That’s a lie,” she says. “The standing order is to kill me before I can be captured and forced to help Franklin. That’s a kill order.”

“She’s correct on that count,” I interject.

He glances at me and then Amanda again, as he says, “That wouldn’t be necessary if the agent is loyal to their country, because a good agent would kill themselves before helping a man like Franklin.”

“A good agent,” she says, “would make the most of being captured, and ensure she, or he, not only left with the secrets needed to save innocent lives, but that the people involved were captured or killed.”

“Are you a good agent?” he asks.

“My work speaks for itself, excluding the false claims of my defection.”

“The agency wants to question you when this is over,” he says, “which gives you the chance to prove your innocence.”

“You mean interrogate me before they kill me,” Amanda says. “That’s not going to happen, so I guess you just have to order Seth to kill me again. Unless you want to try your luck yourself.”

“You really are fearless, aren’t you?”

“I fear things,” she says. “Just not you.”

His lips curve and he looks at me. “You sure you don’t need backup?”

“What I need is a cover story and the hell out of here,” I reply.

“I have an Uber button,” he says. “So, I’ll play Uber driver and fill you in on the way to your destination. I also have a change of clothes for you both in the car.”

I respect Bear. He’s a good agent, but he’s also an agency man. This feels off. “Why weren’t the details of our cover left on the plane, including our change of clothes?”

His eyes meet mine. “They wanted me to see her and feel her out.”

“Then why the fuck did you pull me in on this?”

“You were on assignment with her for three months. You know her. She knows you.”

In other words, the agency knows we were more than partners three years ago, and have been watching me, expecting me to be as dirty as they label her to be. I don’t do anger any more than I do doubt, but if I did, I’d be pissed. “It’s the middle of the night,” I say. “We don’t need a change of clothes. We need a plan, a shower, and a bed. Tell us what we need to know and we’ll get our own Uber.”

He seems to have known this was coming. “All right then.” He reaches into his jeans and produces a hotel key. “For now, you’re in The Joule Hotel, which is a five-star hotel, thus why you need the change of clothes. Full assignment details wait for you in your suite.”

I accept the key and Amanda asks, “What does ‘for now’ mean?”

He glances at Amanda. “One of your ins into Franklin’s operation is John Reynolds, a real estate broker to the elite who’s close to Franklin, at least indirectly. He also manages the highly sought-after warehouse district property owned by a man we believe to be an active partner with Franklin. This man, Eduardo Chavez, has a warehouse in that district that we believe could house the toxin. We’ll have you approach Reynolds to get a lease on one of those spaces. Chavez approves all leases himself, and even meets the new tenants.”

“That doesn’t explain why you said ‘for now’ in relation to the hotel,” I say.

“Right now, we have your cover as it was in the past. Diamond moguls, but Amanda is a fashion designer launching her own line, much like the Brandon empire you’re already working with. Chosen because you have knowledge you can use to establish and maintain the cover. You’ll open a store in Manhattan, but you’re looking for a more affordable state to manufacture.”

“And we chose Texas why?” I ask.

“They’re friendly to businesses. We’ve included data giving you those hot points in the files provided.”

“Why do you believe Chavez is attached to Franklin?” I ask.

“The water in the border city of Matamoros was tainted four weeks ago. Thirty people died. A photo of Chavez and Franklin was caught at a border checkpoint. And yes. You have a copy and details of all of this.”

“Thirty people,” Amanda says, shaking her head. “He’s such a bastard. Do I have a sample of the toxin used?”

“And a full lab,” Bear assures her, before glancing at me. “That ride offer is still open.”

“We’ll pass,” I say. “Where’s that change of clothes?”

“The trunk,” he says, reaching into his pocket and removing his key fob to pop it open. “I’d walk that way, but we both know you’d be suspicious. Feel free to change back there if you want. We cleared all cameras from the hangar.”

With me closest to the rear of the car, I walk in that direction, locate a Louis Vuitton bag, and unzip it. Inside I find clothes for a male and a female, Louise Vuitton wallet, phones, and two velvet rings cases. Additionally, there are two weapons: a Glock and Ruger sized for a woman. There is also a wig and contacts for Amanda and two extra Louis bags for us to transfer our things into. I remove the black polo shirt and jacket from the bag, and set it aside before making quick work of removing my bloody jacket, which I toss in the trunk. My holsters are next, but I set one of my guns within fast reach. I slip on the overdone diamond studded gold band, and without looking at Amanda’s, assume it will be very large, which, under different circumstances, would meet her satisfaction. In thirty seconds, I’m in that clean shirt with the holsters back in place. Next, I change my pants and boots, and stick the wallet and passport with my fictional name on them in my back pocket.

Leaving the bag for Amanda, I round the car again. She gives my new attire a once-over and I motion to her. “Use the back seat or the plane,” I say, not liking the idea of anyone watching her change.

A flicker in her eyes tells me that she won’t box herself into a place that might explode, and she heads toward the trunk. Bear and I move to the front of the car, giving ourselves a small element of privacy before we step to each other. And yes, he’s six-foot-five, but I’m six-foot-two and see him as a target that has a hard time hiding. “I’m not the enemy here.”

“Something doesn’t smell right here. Why is that?”

“I inherited this situation, years after it started. I have nothing but the facts as they were handed to me to go on,” Bear retorts.

“You’re a part of it now, and I don’t accept blind devotion to the agency without personal responsibility.”

“I’ve never been blind or stupid and neither have you. Don’t let a woman change that, the way she changed your one-hundred-percent kill ratio.”

“If I want you dead, you’ll be dead.”

“But you didn’t want her dead.”

“I don’t kill agents without proof they’re dirty. Do you?”

“If you’re inferring that I killed her parents, you’re off target. I told you. I got pulled into this blindly.”

“Why would they pull you into this now?”

“I’m deep inside a Mexican terrorist connection and I’m working that angle for answers.”

“Then you should be across the border now, finding answers.”

“Thanks for that directive, Cage. But, asshole, I was in Mexico. I got back the same day I enlisted you.”

I consider him a moment, and I don’t read dishonesty, but I do read opposition. “I want indisputable proof that her parents are dead,” I say, my voice low, taut.

“They’re dead. I saw the reports myself.”

“If that report has proof, then provide me a copy, including the name of the assassin on the kill order.”

He narrows his eyes on me. “Where are you going with this, Cage? Because it can’t be any place good.”

“Get it for me,” I bite out.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“This is not optional,” I say. “And I want the details of what Amanda, and her parents, are accused of doing, as well as proof that justifies her kill order.”

“I told you. They want to talk to Amanda before enacting that order. Unless, of course, Franklin turns her into a matter of national security. In which case, your kill order stands.”

A matter of national security. Those words punch at me for no clear reason. Yet. “Just get me the proof,” I say.

“And if she committed espionage, will you kill her?”

“I’d worry about you, not her, because if I find out that she was set up, and you had any part of it, even covering it up, you’re a dead man.”

“I’m not an easy kill.”

“Good,” I say. “Easy bores the fuck out of me.”

“Choose your friends carefully,” he says, Amanda’s footsteps sound nearby as he lowers his voice to add, “And sleep with your eyes open.” Amanda appears by my side, and he says, “I’ll text you the address,” before backing up and walking to the driver’s side of the car and disappearing inside. The car starts and before he even leaves, my phone buzzes with a text I don’t bother to look at. I know it’s him.

“You don’t trust him,” Amanda says.

I face her, finding her now dressed in some sort of lacy pink top, and black jeans. “No,” I say. “I don’t.”

“He told you to sleep with your eyes open.”

“I’ll fuck you with my eyes open, sweetheart,” I say. “I’m sleeping with my eyes shut. Let’s get out of here.”

She studies me for several beats, a flicker of something I can’t name in her eyes, before she nods and heads to Julie’s side, squatting down to talk to her. I stand there a moment, watching her, this woman I love so fucking much, and I’m not sure what she was looking for just now. I’m not sure what she thinks she saw, or didn’t see. But I have a bad feeling that the sins of my past, and the mistakes of the past three years, are about to catch up with me.