Page 23 of Deadly Sights

“Hey! He didn’t answer my question.” Nadira pushes me to the side to see the smoking hole in the middle of the man’s head.

“He didn’t have to. What he said is a phrase our operatives use to recognize each other. He works for my employer, which means I’ll have to take a rain check on that date. We need to leave now.”

“But why are your people following me?”

CHAPTER 11

MISTRUST FESTERS

Nadira

Now that Julian has revealed the man breaking into his Spanish home was a coworker, I watch him with more suspicion than before. In our profession, trust isn’t easy to come by. Sometimes to carry out our assignments, we have to do whatever it takes to make a target trust us. I wish I could say Julian’s actions tipped the scale to get me to believe him. He has been consistent since he broke into my home, but we come from a world where we create realities to support our con.

We eat, breathe, and sleep with the alternative narratives we invent until our true identities seem like imaginary ones. And with this recent development about his organization, I’m less convinced that he isn’t running a con on me for purposes I haven’t figured out yet. For all I know, he’s playing a long game and will take advantage the second I drop my guard. What that advantage is, I don’t know.

“You can’t go home.” Julian’s comment breaks from my thoughts as I stare blindly out of the airplane window.

“That’s obvious.”

“You should also stay out of the office. Your cover’s probably broken.”

“Again, you’re stating the obvious. I agree that they know about my current identity, but they’re not aware of what I’ve discovered. Now if I don’t show up, they’ll know I’m onto them.”

“Assume that they know.”

“Even more reason to go into the office.”

He stares at me, an incredulous smile growing on his face. “You want to trap them.”

“Got a problem with it?”

“A few, but I doubt they’ll sway you from undertaking such a dangerous task.” He scrubs his face. When he removes his hands, all trace of amusement disappears. His lips are firm and a grimness brackets his mouth. “Before you enact a plan that endangers your life, will you let me help you?”

His offer comes as no surprise, but his assistance would open me up to other dangers, namely his hidden motives behind everything he does for me. My hesitation keeps me silent until my lack of response creates an awkward tension between us. I’m stuck between wanting to believe he is who he says he is and a sense of self-preservation that needs to doubt him.

Unable to bear looking at him as hope dwindles in his eyes, I turn to the window once more. The tactic doesn’t make me any less aware of him. I’m used to the tingling at my nape and now associate it with when he’s lasered his attention on me. So when a soft, almost inaudible, wisp of air sounds behind me, I recognize it for what it is. His disappointment. A twisting ache in my chest makes breathing hard.

“If that’s not an option, I’ll find you a safe place for you to stay until things blow over,” Julian says, sparking an idea.

I swivel in my seat to face him. “Where do you have in mind?”

“I doubt they’ll check the short-term rentals before you book a place. Even so, you’ll reserve under an alias.” He goes on with multiple options, none of which I expect. They’re all acceptable, providing different benefits that would aid me in staying off his company’s radar while trying to lure them into a trap.

To be fair, my suspicions are driving me to expect an invitation to his home, his perfectly curated space that is meant to draw me in and trust him. But he doesn’t offer his place at all. Is he playing a kind of reverse psychology on me?

“What about your place?” I finally ask, interrupting his list of options.

“My place?” All signs of life leach from his face, and for the first time since meeting Julian, he avoids my gaze. “Not a good idea.”

“What if I insist?” I push, needing to see how far his resistance goes. “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing you won’t discover on your own. Either way, my home isn’t a good place for you to be.”

I sit back in my seat and fold my arms. “So what you said about wanting me to trust you, that was bullshit?”

His head springs up and he glares at me. “Nadira, I see what you’re doing, and I don’t appreciate it.”

“Oh? What did I do?”

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