Lies(7)

Thom groans. “Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not.” The man squats, sorting through the pile of bags with ease. And sure enough, a Tiffany-blue bag yields a ring box. “I suppose you should do the honors.”

Without comment, Thom takes the box, sitting on the bed beside me. I can’t read the expression in his eyes. But he grasps my hand lightly, sliding the rock onto my ring finger. The diamond is huge and it fits perfectly.

“I thought we weren’t telling anyone about—” I start to say.

“You can trust Crow. If anyone asks, the story is that you took your old ring off while you were doing work around home yesterday morning. That’s why you weren’t wearing it when the explosion hit.”

“I would have proposed properly, got down on one knee and done it right. A square-cut diamond of five carats with a platinum band,” announces Crow. “What do you think, Betty?”

“Wow.”

“I think she likes it,” he says with a smile. “I have excellent taste.”

Much irate grumbling from Thom. “You’re buying her affections with my money. I’m supposed to be a low-level suit. How the hell would I have afforded that?”

“The only people that ring is meant to fool already know you’re not just a low-level suit. Let her enjoy the rock.”

“It’s beautiful, Crow. Thank you.”

The man gives me a brief smile. “You’re very welcome, Betty.”

“And thank you for picking up the clothes. I keep forgetting everything I owned has been blown up.” The thought is both horrible and sobering, remembering exactly how much I’ve lost. Not that any of it was worth a lot. But the sentimental value…like my favorite T-shirts, for instance. Cherished books with cracked spines and worn pages. The beloved old record player and collection of vinyl I inherited from my grandfather. Just all the bits and pieces that made up my life. Though I know it’s only stuff, and I am happy to be alive.

“You backed up your photos, right?” asks Thom.

I nod.

“That’s something, at least.”

“Yeah,” I say, not quite convinced.

Crow clears his throat. “I take it you heard about Scorpion?”

Thom nods. “She was a good agent.”

“I know you two were close. We have to find this bastard. Now.”

“Badger’s tracing access of any and all files relating to us. Anyone left kicking from jobs she and I did together. Someone who might hold a grudge.”

“Whatever’s out there, he’ll find it,” says Crow.

So Scorpion was a she, and she and Thom were close. Interesting. I’m not sure if I care if he cheated on me or not. No, I do. The mere thought stings.

I drag the closest bags over to me, pushing aside layers of wrapping to get to the goodies. Some basic makeup, skin care, hair stuff, and tampons. An assortment of clothes, such as jeans, T-shirts, and a warm jacket, along with a pair of sturdy yet fashionable boots. Very nice.

The fancy lingerie I could have done without, however. Nothing wrong with sensible, comfortable, unsexy grandma panties. Especially in my current predicament. Not that Thom is prone to getting carried away at the sight of me scantily clad. Another dead giveaway about the validity of our romance. I’m such a fool.

“So what, you’re all ex-military or something?” I ask, in the hopes that information will make me less of an idiot. At least pertaining to this particular situation.

“We’re recruited from all over the place. It’s not really something we can talk about.” Crow leans against the wall, arms crossed. “No one’s attempted mixing real life and work before. You being here is quite a first.”

“I don’t know how real it was, considering Thom lied to me about everything,” I say. “But this is your life? What happens later? Do they expect you to just disappear into retirement and never discuss what you’ve done or the things you’ve seen?”

“Pretty much. Though retirement’s not usually an issue,” he drawls. “Few of us live that long. Governments adore handing over the hard cases to people it deems expendable with complete deniability.”

Thom’s eyes tighten. “That’s enough. You’re scaring her.”

“I’m not scared,” I lie.

“Sorry,” says Crow, heading for the door. “I’ll give you two lovebirds some privacy.”

“Thanks for all this, Crow.”

“Anytime, Betty.” He winks before slipping silently out the door.

The room goes quiet and it’s just us again. It takes me a moment to find my voice. For my brain to make sense of all the new snippets of information.

“How many times did you nearly not make it home?” I ask, fussing with the tiny satin bow of a thong I’ll never wear. “The truth, Thom.”

“Often enough to be thankful every time I walked back through the door. Remember when I said the ceiling had caved in on me when I was doing a fire-damage assessment in Idaho?”

“I remember complaining when you were back at work in two days, before the stiches had even healed over.”

“You should have seen the other guy.” He shrugs. “But I’m good at what I do. Try not to worry.”

“Easy for you to say.”