At first it was mild panic.

She couldn’t find the car.

And then it was annoyance, at herself, that she could even imagine Tucker driving off and leaving her stranded. By now, in just three short and chaotic days, she felt intimately bonded to him. An ultimate trust forged by a longtime friendship, and a newly discovered sexual passion—as well as their dependence on each other to survive the various life-threatening situations they’d found themselves in.

Would there ever be a time when someone wasn’t trying to kill both of them?

By working with DARC Ops, Macy was sure that neither of them could take the ownership of having put the other in danger. She had been the first, yes, in filling Tucker’s life with a little more excitement. But here in South Africa, with a whole other set of assassins coming after Tucker and his men—and now Macy—it was fair to say that things had balanced out a little. They were even. Both in danger. Both in lust for each other.

Things could have been a lot worse.

With increasingly morbid thoughts, Macy forced herself to ignore the specifics of how much worse. She spotted their rental car parked off to the side of the lot, in the shade, empty. No Tucker in sight, inside or out.

After the last few days, it seemed as though any odd little change or surprise had her shocked, on edge. It was like her psyche had been peeled like an onion, exposing the raw surface underneath. A raw jumble of nerves all that was left after several years of constant fear. Maybe Tucker was right about the PTSD. In the past, without Tucker and the protection and normalcy he’d provided, she didn’t have time to worry about such psychological idiosyncrasies. But now, under the safety of his presence, there was room for wandering thoughts. Introspection. Weakness, even. The kind of tactical flab that could wind up getting her killed.

Her approach to the car was slow and cautious, maintaining a line of sight back to the building and on anyone who could potentially be exiting it. When she finally made it back to the car, a sense of relief washed over her. Not because Tucker was waiting inside, but because she’d just turned back to see him leave the store. He was walking with his normal pace, only he wasn’t smiling back at her. His face was tight with concern. Like an infectious disease, that concern spread to Macy. She felt it deep in her bones.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him when he got close enough not to shout. She understood the benefits of hiding her American accent.

But Tucker just kept approaching without saying a word.

“Tucker?”

“What?” he finally said, a look of surprise on his face as if he hadn’t heard her.

“Is everything okay?”

He stood at driver’s-side door, staring at her across the roof of the car.

“What the hell is it?” she said, keeping her voice calm. She wasn’t going to lose it. Not now, when they were so close.

“Oh, um . . . Can you actually go back inside and, uh . . .”

“What?”

“Can you grab something for us to eat?” He started looking through his wallet, flipping through. “I forgot breakfast.”

“There won’t be anything actually edible in there,” she said. “You want junk food?”

“Yeah, can you just, um . . .”

She’d never seen Tucker act like this. He looked guilty about something. Covering, scared.

“Tucker? What’s going on?”

He put his wallet away and then frowned, looking down, away from her eyes at all costs. But she felt it right away anyway, a clear sign that he’d done something. Something . . .

“Tucker?”

He was shaking his head, swearing softly to himself. It horrified her.

“What the hell is going on?” she said.

He didn’t say a word.

And then Macy remembered her phone. She’d left it inside the car. With Tucker. She took a deep breath. “Open the door.” The words came out low and calm, her voice steadying against her growing anxiety.

Tucker finally raised his head up, and with a crooked half smile he said, “Okay . . . Let’s just talk about this for a minute.” But there was a dead look in his eyes that didn’t match the rest of him, especially that chipper voice. He laid it on too thick, like a bad used-car salesman. “Can we just talk about this first?”

“Talk about what?” Her eyes instinctively went back to the car, her gaze through the window, searching for whatever it was that Tucker had been trying so hard to cover up.

“Okay,” he said, “so, Jasper just wanted me to sync up your phone. That’s all. I should have told you, but—”

“What? Sync up my phone?” She saw it now, her phone on the seat, with wires hanging out. “What the fuck is that?”

“We had to sync it up to—”

“What do you mean, sync? What does that mean, Tucker?”

“To connect them.”

“No. You mean to steal my data. My contacts, my calls. Files. History. Is that it?”

“No . . .”

“You needed to spy on me?”

“No.”

“Yes,” she said. “Who was it? Jasper? So Jasper had you spy on me. And this was all planned out, having to use the phone, stopping here.”

“Well, you had to use the bathroom.”

“You lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie.”

“You . . .You fucking . . .”

“No . . . Macy. It wasn’t like that.”

She turned around, away from the car and her phone, and away from his goddamn face. She leaned against the door, arms crossed, watching the traffic roll by, feeling time swirl around, like a little inconsequential drop in a bucket. Meaningless. Everything was meaningless and empty now. She was alone.

She felt alone again for the first time since Luanda. Since before Tucker.

“Come on,” she heard him say, his words barely cutting through the thick cloud that enveloped her.

The door locks clicked open.

“Come on,” he said again. “Let’s get going. I can explain on the way to—”

“Save it,” Macy said, flinging open her door and getting in. The first thing she did inside was disable the wire and toss it out of the car.

“Please, Macy . . .”

“I’m only getting in this car because I . . . have to.”

Did she really?

What were her options?

The old Macy knew it was better to be alone than with someone she couldn’t trust. Especially in this country—or anywhere she’d run to.

Tucker, already on her side of the car, had picked up the wire from the ground. “You don’t have to do anything. You can do or not do whatever you want, and with whoever you want.”

“That’s not true, and you know it,” Macy said. “You know the situation I’m in right now. You know how fucked up it is . . . including this, you hacking into my phone. I can’t believe it, Tucker. I can’t even begin . . .”

“I can explain.” He slipped into the car and sat next to her. Her body instinctively recoiled away. Tucker’s shoulders dropped.

“Come on,” he said. “Please?”

“Please what?” It came out angrily. “How about you please drive? Or can I? Can we just go?”

With a loud sigh, Tucker started the car and idled out of the parking lot, driving out a one-way entrance.

And then he almost slammed into the back of the car in front as it came to an unexpected stop.

“Do me a favor,” she said.

“What?”

“Don’t get us killed, okay? Okay?”

“What are you talking—”

“—Just pay attention!”

“Alright!” he barked back, the two of them sounding to her like an old married couple. “Alright, let’s just . . .”

“Let’s just get to where we’re going,” she said, folding her arms and looking away.

“Macy, I believe you. I mean, I trust you. Totally.” He paused, but she added nothing in between. He grumbled something quietly, and then sighed again in the silence. “It was set up so that I had to prove something to them. I was doing it for you, actually.”

“How nice.”

“Jasper was . . . worried, since the attacks. He just wanted to be sure. I mean, you’re new. New people get vetted like crazy. Fuck! Macy, I just wanted to . . .” He trailed off, as if testing the waters for her reaction. But when none came, Tucker said nothing else. He drove, pulling away quickly from the gas station. She glanced his way when she finally no longer felt his gaze on her. His face was impassive, but his eyes burned, and his hands gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles and fingers were white with the pressure.