Page 10 of Secrets

“Ruby-throated hummingbird.”

“What about your favorite plant?” She continues without missing a beat.

I shake my head. “An impossibility to decide.”

“I bet it’s not. There has to be one you really like.”

My mind flits over the near-thousands of plant varieties I’ve encountered in my life. There have been many that I’ve adored, and even more that I’ve loved. From the poisonous to the exotic, the expensive to the affordable. There have been plants that forced me to rise to the challenge of growing them, and those that challenged me with how to contain their vast growth. There are too many to name, but in the end, I surprise myself with my response.

“I love the peony because it was my mother’s favorite. I have a distaste for blue passion because it was my father’s.”

“But what aboutyourfavorite?” Her voice softens as she leans closer and for a moment, I forget where we are. Forget that there are a couple dozen people around us, and can no longer hear the low thrum of the music playing overhead. There are simply the two of us, enraptured in a conversation about plants.

Perhaps that’s why I tell her, “Epipremnum aureum.Devil’s ivy.”

“Why?”

My eyes flicker between hers, clashing with her vibrant blues. Her inquisition is both peculiar and oddly welcoming. I assume that’s why I answer her. “They are nearly impossible to kill, adapt to both water and soil growing mediums, and even without adequate growing conditions, they continue to survive. Thrive, actually.”

The agent is quiet for a long stretch of time as she studies me, a sadness enveloping her features the more seconds tick by. For a moment, it’s as if she can push past my carefully crafted mask and truly see me, not the monstrous side but the tormented, and it causes an unsettling tremor to rack through me.

I’m not one for pity. I’ve never felt it for another person, and most certainly don’t want anyone to feel it for me. So I quickly redirect the conversation. “What about you, Agent Frances? What are your hobbies?”

She swallows, blinking twice as she comes back to herself. After clearing her throat, a smile curls the ends of her lips. “Shopping, baking, puzzles—like the ones where you have to find Waldo, or the differences between pictures—and relaxing on the couch. Big fan of that. Oh, and my acrobatic classes. I really love those.”

“A federal agent who enjoys acrobatics.”

She beams, her smile annoyingly perfect. “Aerial silk is my favorite.”

An unwelcome image of the woman across from me, naked, restrained, and suspended in the air, flashes through my mind.

Luckily, before I can reflect on that thought, a walking interruption catches my attention over her shoulder.

“Are you going to stay over here all night, or are you gonna shoot some pool with me? Berk is talking shit about how he’s gonna beat us again.” The woman who entered with Jessica appears next to the table, reminding us both that we’re in the middle of a bar.

Jessica’s eyes flit from her friend to me. There’s a question in them and I stand before she has a chance to ask it. Though, as I should have assumed, it doesn’t stop her. “Would you like to play? Or perhaps observe my magical skills with a pole?”

I have to clear my throat from chuckling at her wagging eyebrows and shake my head. “Thank you, Agent, but I should get going.”

I do my best to ignore both the tightness of my skin and Jessica’s wide, puppy-dog pout by looking at her friend who leans against the back of Jessica’s chair, her eyes narrowed slightly as they sweep over me.

The agent moves out of her chair as I turn to depart. “Well, wait. Can’t you just hang out with us for a little longer?”

I give her a faux apologetic smile. I’ve done more than enough of my intended recon on this woman for tonight and have already decided I won’t need thirty days to lure her to her death. “There’s some work I should attend to. It was lovely meeting you, though. I appreciated the company after being stood up.”

With one last glance, I stride from the table to the door but stop short at the sound of a chair scraping against the floor and the agent rushing to stop me before I can exit.

“But I don’t even know your name,” she whines. “Your real name.”

I smirk, gripping the door handle. There are a million and one reasons I should lie, give her an alias to lessen my chances of being a discoverable suspect in the weeks to come. Yet oddly enough, I can’t bring myself to tell her anything but the truth. “My name is Elena.”

“Elena.” Her tongue rolls around my name with such finesse that a small shiver skims through me. “It’s beautiful.”

An involuntary smile tugs at my lips as I open the door. “As are you. Goodnight, Agent.”

Before she can respond, I slip out onto the street, letting the heavy door slam closed behind me.

The night air washes over my face, cooling my cheeks from a heat I wasn’t aware was there. Only after a few deep breaths am I able to fully leave the bar and disappear into the alley across the street to my parked car.

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