I dozed fitfully off and on for more than a day. Trent left me alone for the most part. Nudging me awake to take a sip of water, or a bite of food. I had no concept of time. Had no idea how long I’d been in and out of it. It could have been hours, or days that I lay there.

The couch dipped, pulling me to the surface once more.

I hissed, pulling my knees up to my chest when Trent poked at the bandages on my feet. “Healing nicely,” he said, holding out his hand, palm up. The little white pills resting there moved closer to my face. “Take these. It’ll help.”

I pushed myself up and moved further down the couch. “I’m not taking anything you give me. Do I look that stupid?”

He clenched his fist, closing the pills out of sight. “Have it your way then.”

He got up from the couch, leaving me alone once more. Tired as I was, I just didn’t have it in me to crawl back to my room. And I really didn’t have it in me to be afraid of Trent right then. Had he wanted to hurt me, he would’ve forced me to walk with glass embedded in my feet. He hadn’t though. He’d taken care of me.

I didn’t want to think about what that meant. Didn’t want to confuse myself into believing he was the same man I’d known.

There were so many unanswered questions I had. Questions I feared asking, yet desperately wanted answers to. And what if the answers weren’t what I wanted to hear? Could I listen to him explain why he’d left me thinking he was dead? Had he really loved me like he told me he had? Did I want him to love me like that again?

How could I love someone who’d turned into everything I fought against? And did I still love him?

No, my subconscious answered. Yes, my heart argued.

And Josh?

The thought of him twisted me even more out of control. I’d used him. Used the feelings he gave me. The chemistry between us. I’d taken all he’d given and felt no shame for it. No remorse. I’d needed that. The touch of a man. The feeling of a need met.

He was a distraction.

No, he wasn’t.

He was a willing body.

Maybe so, but you know there was more to it than that.

He’d become a friend.

A friend with very talented benefits that may or may not be dead because of you.

It was possible.

Probable. You heard the gun fire. You saw him hit the deck right before you tumbled over.

Shut up, conscience!

My mind clearly needed to be purged. Having an argument with yourself had to be the first step of going crazy, or a sign of mental instability.

It didn’t matter which one it was, crazy or mental, both didn’t hold much appeal to me.

And worse, all I had for company were my thoughts and my husband, first husband… ex-husband? Was there a right term? I’d been considered a widow when I’d thought him dead. Was I now an ex-widow?

More like a black widow… shouldn’t you be looking for a way out or worrying over Josh? You did marry him.

I had no other options!

Lie. You could have stopped it at any point. You could have pulled Allyson aside and told her that you weren’t ready to marry him, or that you weren’t sure you wanted to marry him. She would have respected your wishes.

And if something would have happened to her? We went along with the wedding to keep tabs on her. And why am I explaining this to you… to myself?

I forced myself to sit up. Forced my thoughts to settle and took a deep breath. There was the briefest moment where I swore I caught a whiff of something different in the air. When I tested the air again, I realized that it must have been whatever cleaner Trent used in the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Trent stood before me again with an unopened bottle of wine, two plastic cups in one hand, and a chair from the kitchen. He handed the cups to me and then poured the wine.

He sat, putting the bottle between his feet and took the cup I held out to him. A warning rang through my head. How many times had we shared a bottle of wine? Once. On our twenty-four-hour honeymoon. We’d married without consent. Uncaring what anyone thought. It had been a quick ceremony in Reno, and then we’d made a mad dash for the room we’d rented for the night. Our excuses had been made to cover our hidden agenda. Oliver expected us back in Chicago the following day and didn’t think twice about Trent telling him that we were going to get some rest and head back in the morning after a long day of slogging through intel on a high-profile case. Someone else would take what we’d learned and head out into the field to complete the mission.

We’d shared the bottle. Talked. Took our time enjoying each other. It had been the best twenty-four hours of my life.

I sipped the wine from my cup slowly. In part to hide my thoughts as if they’d show on my face, and in part to keep the memory from slipping past my lips.

The wine warmed me, filling my head with its heady scent, and pulsed through my body. It left me comfortably numb as I held the cup out for a refill.

Trent obliged me, holding his cup between his hands and watched me. Eyes smoldering and hooded.

The look was enough to melt me. My scalp tingled and my heart raced. But when my lips went numb and my fingertips began to tingle, I knew something was wrong.

When I brought my hand up in front of my face, there was a blurry outline like a second hand.

“It works fast, but doesn’t last long,” Trent said, tilting his own cup and looking down into it.

“You…”

“Do you love him?” he asked.

“Who?” I dropped the empty cup in my lap. The plastic was too heavy for me to keep hold of. “You drugged me.”

“Don’t worry. There’s no lasting side effects,” he said.

I put my hand to my head, feeling the room wobble.

Trent’s hands guided me down so I lay on my side, facing him. Disorientation rolled over me in waves.

“Why?” I asked.

“Why what?”

“Why did you leave me and let me think you were dead?”

He shrugged and asked again, “Do you love him?”

“Do I love who?”

“The man I killed. Do you… did you love him?”

Josh’s face flashed between us. Moments played out in front of me. The last ending with the look on his face as he’d said his vows.

“I think I do,” I answered, unable to stop myself from telling the truth. What did it matter anyway? Truth, lie… they were all the same. They were all different. A lie led to the truth. The truth led to a lie, and they both met at the fork of a river where words washed over stone to be cleansed enough to speak again.

I was the rocks. The water washed over me. Words bubbled around me, and I gave them back. There was another rock beside me. It, too, spoke, saying words only I could understand and in turn could understand me.

There were birds screeching in the trees and the other rock didn’t like the noise. It bellowed a string of words not meant for my understanding so I ignored them and watched the watery world rush over me.

The river shifted. Thinned. What was once soft sand, turned to jagged shards that moved beneath me. They prodded and pushed, trying to lift me from my peaceful resting place. Until all at once I emerged from the river and in a blinding flash, no longer part of that world.

“Izzy! Izzy! Wake up!”

“Ally?”

I came back to a high-def reality. The tittering birds weren’t birds at all. They were voices. Female voices. And what I’d thought was my companion rock had been Trent.

I didn’t have a chance to sit up on my own because Allyson yanked me up and wrapped her arms around me.

“Izzy, what the hell is going on?” she asked, hissing the question close to my ear.