He decided the best way to handle things would be to lie low. There were sirens, so one of the people on the sidewalk who saw him snatch her had called the police. Probably the man she had been with. He pulled into what looked like a dump of a motel, using the back side of the building as a means to hide his truck.

“Stay here,” he commanded, giving her a hard look that didn’t allow argument. “I’m going to get us a room and we’ll figure out where we go from here.” She didn’t look like she would run. If anything, there was something trusting in the way she looked at him. She looked at him as if he were here to save her and not kill her. He couldn’t fathom why.

He knew next to nothing about her. The only connection they had was when she was a child and he participated in the murder of everything she knew. If anything, there should be hatred in her eyes. His better instincts told him not to leave her, but he did. He left her in his truck as he arranged for a room. Fortunately, it didn’t take the guy behind the desk long to get him a key, but wave enough cash at a person and they tend to rush to give you what you want.

He trotted back out to his truck, grimacing at the damage in the grill. He liked the truck. He knew he’d have to get rid of it eventually, but now? He sighed. He would have to go about getting another vehicle sooner than he would have liked. Sirens started ringing through the area and, much to his relief, the woman in the front seat looked startled.

“C’mon.” he opened the door for her. “We don’t have a lot of time to hang out and explain all the details, but” —he reached behind her seat to pull out his gun case and the duffle bag that held his belongings— “we can take some time to get a plan together and see if we can’t shake anyone else who might be on your trail.”

“On my trail,” she echoed, her arms wrapped around herself. She looked afraid and unsure. Her eyes were watery and tired. It made his lack of sleep come back to haunt him. “How many are on my trail? And who? Why?”

“Let’s get inside.” He gestured toward the sidewalk that ran in front of a series of doors. He looked at the key in his hand and saw Number Sixteen etched in the plastic chain. “I’ll explain then.” He led the way, keeping an eye on her to make sure she followed. She didn’t seem to be unwilling or ready to fight. She still stumbled along due to the alcohol she consumed.

Maybe the need to know what was going on kept her following. Maybe seeing him again did. He unlocked the door and ushered her in. She went without struggle or protest. Compared to how much of a fight she had put up when he picked her up, it was a relief.

The room was musty, smelling of dust, and it looked as if they had gone from modern times and stepped right back into the 80s. The decor was that dated. These were things he was used to. He frequented joints like this, so dust and peeling wallpaper didn’t bother him. “Take a seat.” He set down the gun case and his bag. “We’ll talk.”

“Are you here to kill me?” she asked as she settled down on the edge of the bed, her blue eyes pinning him. “After you let me live the last time you and I met?”

“In my defense” —he sat down at the small table that took up a corner— “I wasn’t aware it was you I was coming for. Other than the fact that you’re a Borjan, I don’t know your name from before.”

She paled, and he didn’t try to make her feel better. “You are here to kill me.” She looked away, a hand coming to her neck. “Is it because I . . . I got away all those years ago? Because I ran?”

“No, I never told anyone about you.” He watched her wearily. “I don’t get to know the why. I just get the person and do the job.”

“So you’re a mercenary?”

“No.” He stood and went to his bag, fishing out his laptop. “I work for the CIA.” He opened up it up and went to the local newsfeeds, hearing sirens as they passed by in search of them.

She watched him closely, then seemed to deflate with a growing realization. “They think I am a threat? A bigger security leak than I already have been?” She sounded torn, and when he looked at her, he saw a distraught woman. “I do not know why I did not expect this sooner.” She released a shaky breath, not meeting his gaze. “I am a liability, and I am guessing they think I still have important information so I need to be eliminated. Put down.”

He didn’t bother offering up any comfort. What was he to say? He had been sent to kill her. But, lead sat in his gut like it did the first time he saw her. When she was a child and standing at the other end of his rifle. “The woman who bumped into you looked familiar,” he admitted. “I’m pretty sure I know her from somewhere. I just can’t pinpoint where yet. I will though.”

“Was she sent to kill me, too?” Her words shook as tears seemed to choke her up.

“Probably not.” He tapped into his account, looking through files on other agents he knew of. “Though I imagine if she managed to get away with you before I did, you probably wouldn’t be in a safer position.”

“Honestly . . .” She flopped back on the bed, dust motes kicking up as she did. “Perhaps it would have been better if I had not run away and you had just ended me when you had the opportunity the first time.”

“I don’t kill children,” he said without a thought. He frowned, because it had come from nowhere. “I don’t like killing women.” He didn’t look at her when he admitted it. He didn’t want to offer her false hope. He didn’t want to imply that he didn’t intend to kill her. Who was he kidding though? The woman had haunted him for years, and here she was. Could he really kill her now?

“What is your name?” Her voice beckoned him to look at her, her face ruddy from tears, blue eyes large as she looked at him.

“Scott.” He couldn’t look away. It was like a recreation of their first meeting, only he wasn’t looking at a child now. The girl from the kitchen in Kosovo had grown into a woman. A beautiful woman. He blinked, seeming to realize where his line of thought was going. “What’s yours?” He wanted to hear her say it.

“Jovana,” she said lightly, wiping a cheek. “Did the order to kill me not give you my name?”

He shrugged. “It was actually vague. All I got was a description.” He acted nonchalant about it, as if this wasn’t about a life.

“Is there a chance that you could have gotten the wrong person?” there was a ring of hope to her voice. He met her gaze and slowly shook his head. He wasn’t one for mistakes. While she may be one, having survived their first encounter, it was extremely unlikely that she wasn’t his target. Especially not after spotting that other agent.

He looked back at his laptop, trying to put a name with the face of the woman he had spotted. She was probably the reason Jovana had become a target.

“What happens now?” Her voice sounded small, drawing his attention back to her. “Are you going to kill me?”

He swallowed hard, looking away. He wasn’t able to the first time. He found himself doubting that he could now. It had been a question that had been taunting him since he connected who she was. Looking at her now, her expression nearly the same, he knew the truth. “I couldn’t then,” he admitted and rubbed his face with both hands, not able to look at her now. “I doubt I could now.”

There was something connecting them, this connection that made him hesitate and gave him the desire to protect her. He would be a fool not to kill her, but because of this feeling, he felt like he would be a fool to kill her too.

She crossed the distance between them in a beat, and before he could even protest, her arms were wrapped around his shoulders. She hugged him tightly, pressing her face against his neck as she shuddered out a sob. He took a breath, wanting to tell her to let go, but he was assaulted by her scent. There was the overpowering scent of alcohol and smoke that came from the bar she had been in earlier.

Beneath that was something floral, a flower he didn’t have a name for and a sweetness that would be something he associated with women. It was overpowering in the way he had been able to pick it up under the other scents.

This was putting him into a dangerous position. Hell, he was already in a dangerous position the moment he forced her into his truck. But if he didn’t give Austin proof that she was dead, then there would be someone else on her tail, and probably his, for failing to do his duty. He admitted that he couldn’t kill her.

Feeling her and smelling her cemented the idea in his head. He wouldn’t be able to do it. “Fake it,” he said aloud to himself. The idea came out of nowhere from his fatigued head.

Jovana pulled away, and he was met with her cautious gaze. “I need proof that you’ve been eliminated. A picture. We can fake it,” he explained, looking around the dated room that they were in. What to use and how to fake it? “Maybe get them off your tail or at least buy us some time.”

His stomach clenched, then rumbled, reminding him that he had spent the majority of his day either driving or holed up in an empty office building, waiting her out. He hadn’t had a real meal that didn’t consist of chips and candy. “Pizza,” he decided and stood. “Stay here. Don’t open the door for anyone. I’ll be back.” He took the room key and left her confused and standing in the middle of the room.

“Pizza?” She seemed to try to catch up, but he wouldn’t bother trying to explain. He closed and locked the door, going for a walk. Taking the truck was too risky. Surely, there’d be a pizza joint close by. Even if it was a long walk, he would have to check. Maybe the walk would help clear his head and give him a chance to come up with a better plan.

He was gone forty-five minutes before he finally made it back to the motel. Testing the door, he found it still locked and was relieved. He wasn’t sure what he would do if she managed to get away. It was surprising that she trusted him enough to stay, though, even if it was foolish of her to try to escape. But, he was being far too trusting in leaving her alone. He had done it twice so far.

The first time, she waited in the truck like he told her, and now, he opened the door to their room. It looked like she had listened to him. He put the box on the table next to his laptop. She had left that alone, too, it looked like.

Trust was established quickly between two people who were essentially strangers. This was the first time they had actually spoken. He had made no move to find her. He had been content with her living in his subconscious. Now, though, he didn’t know what to do with the living, breathing thing within reach. And she seemed so ready to do anything he asked her to. “Are you hungry?”

He had her undivided attention as soon as he had walked back in the door. She looked tired, but she watched him with the same fascination that he seemed to feel. She shook her head though. “I am trying to figure out what you are doing. What are you planning? Did you poison the pizza?”

“Sacrilege,” he scoffed as he pulled out a slice, taking a bite. It was cold, due to the walk, but it still tasted good. “You don’t poison pizza,” he rumbled as he took another bite.

She smiled slightly and came to commandeer a slice of pizza, probably having enough of watching him eat. “If you do not poison pizza, what are you planning?” She sounded amused.

He lifted the small tub of extra marinara sauce he had ordered with his pizza. “We’re going to fake your death,” he said simply, setting down the container and finishing off the slice in his hand. “Any objections?”

“How do you make it believable?” she asked as she nibbled on a slice of her own.

“Trust me.” He found it easy to give her a grin, already comfortable with someone he didn’t really know. It was dangerous, but so far, she hadn’t given him a reason to worry. She didn’t look like she could do him much harm, and she had been an analyst before. She probably didn’t have any sort of combat training. He couldn’t help but smirk as he quoted a film. “I have a certain set of skills that might make this easy.”

To his disappointment, she didn’t catch the reference. Getting his phone and taking the marinara sauce, they went outside. There was a slight wooded grassy area that was away from the road, something he had spotted on his hike for pizza. “Lie in the grass,” he instructed. “We’ll set it up like you’ve been shot, then once we’re done, you can shower and we can work on getting out of here.”

“I don’t have a change of clothes,” she protested.

“I can spare a pair of shorts and a shirt.” He took the sauce and started painting it heavily against one temple. “We won’t be able to go back to your place. It’s too dangerous and it may be under surveillance. We need to get out of town as quickly as possible.” He gestured to the grass. “There’s not a lot of sauce to work with, so we’ll have to work with what we have. Lie down so it doesn’t get runny.”

She did as he instructed, lying on her side and grimacing as he spread some of the sauce in her hair. “Can you do a blank stare?” he asked curiously as he began to arrange her limbs, trying to make it appear that she was dead.

“I can try.” Her voice sounded doubtful, but she looked out at a point over his shoulder. Her gaze was glassy, as if she were on the verge of tears. He wasn’t sure if it was an act. She had probably cried while he had been gone.

“This is as believable as I can get it, I think,” he stood up, hovering over her to get the shot. It would be more believable if he could get it in black and white, but that would raise questions. Hopefully, the poor lighting would work in his favor. It was after midnight, after all. He took a couple of shots then helped her to her feet. “Let's get you back inside so you can clean up.”

“I do not get to go home from here, you said?” she asked.

“No,” he said gravely as he let them back into the room. “Clothing can be bought for you when we get out of here.” He went to his laptop and loaded the pictures onto it. “After you are safe, you can start making yourself a new life.” He didn’t look at her as he started up his email, giving a short report before attaching a picture and sending it off to Austin. He just found her again. Would he be able to let her go this time?

“Another second chance?” It was said low, and he was sure he wasn’t supposed to hear it. When he looked back at her, she had already retreated into the bathroom. The shower cut on and he decided to take that moment to get some much-needed sleep.