“I’M OKAY,” I said quickly. But then my throat closed up. How could I possibly explain? How could I tell him I was turning—I felt sick—traitor and running away with the enemy?

I’d underestimated him. “The phone’s a secret,” he said. “No one else knows about it. When you went off the air, procedure says I should have called in the cavalry and rushed in to get you. But….”

And I heard it in his voice: worry, frustration... and just a hint of jealousy.

He already knew.

“...but if there’s something you need to tell me, first….” He left it hanging in the air, a plea for me to come clean.

I closed my eyes, mad at myself. This was Calahan, my friend. Of course I had to tell him. I took a deep breath and then it all came spilling out: my attraction to him, even before the mission, what happened in his hotel room in Boston, how we’d fallen for each other, how he wanted me even now he knew who I was. “He’s taking me to Russia,” I finished breathlessly.

I heard the rasp of his palm rubbing his stubble. “Hailey,” he started.

“I know. I know what you’re going to say, I haven’t forgotten what he is. But if you knew him like I knew him….” For once, I used his first name. “Sam, I love him. And he loves me.”

I heard Calahan’s chair creak as he rocked back in it and imagined him sprawling there, hands over his eyes as he debated.

I held my breath.

Calahan sighed. Cursed. “Go,” he said at last. “But make it fast. I’ll cover for you as long as I can but Carrie and the others will figure it out soon.”

“If they find out you covered for me, you’ll be in trouble,” I said.

“Wouldn’t be the first time. Go. Go, Hailey, go and... be happy.”

I heard that tiny pang of jealousy in his voice again and my chest tightened. He deserves to be happy, too. “Thank you,” I whispered. And ended the call.

Less than five minutes later, we were in the Mercedes, speeding towards the airport. There was no sign of pursuit yet but Grigory wasn’t taking any chances and had his foot hard down. Meanwhile, in the back, Konstantin was on his phone, looking up the number of a Russian government contact who could help me arrange an emergency, last-minute visa. I dug out my own phone so I could call her.

Weird. My phone was off. I turned it on and waited for it to boot, trying to remember why I’d turned it off. Then Konstantin was reading me the number and moments later I was speaking to a woman in Moscow, painstakingly spelling out Christina’s name, the address of the mansion, her passport number, and date of birth... the woman was polite and efficient but the questions seemed to go on forever and we were nearly at the airport before we were done. I thanked her and sat back in my seat with a sigh of relief. Then we were pulling up outside the terminal and hurrying past the crowds. Konstantin went in front, his size and attitude clearing a path for me. Thanks to it being a private flight, we breezed straight past check in and security and we were jogging across the runway towards the jet when my phone rang.

I stared at it in confusion. I recognized the number: Calahan. But why would he be calling me now? To try to change my mind? Or to warn me the FBI were moving in? I put the phone to my ear, still running. It was loud, out here, with planes roaring overhead as they came in for landing, and I had to shout. “What is it?”

Calahan was panting, frantic. It sounded like he was talking from a moving car, but I couldn’t make out the words.

“What?” I yelled.

“Arrest him!” repeated Calahan. “Hailey, everything’s changed. You have to arrest him!”