Page 84 of Faron
A war.
77
Aponi
The rec center was quiet. I’d stayed late, going over files I already had memorized, pretending I wasn’t waiting.
But I was.
Tag had said he’d stop by. Help strategize next steps. Grab food. Nothing official. Just... him and me. I was going to suggest he stay at the rec center. There was plenty of room and it had a kitchen.
So when the door creaked open and I heard his voice echo down the hall, something fluttered in my chest.
Then I heardhers.
A soft, breathy laugh.
I turned the corner too fast and regretted it immediately.
She was stunning.
Wavy blonde hair that fell over her shoulders like something out of a shampoo commercial. High heels in a neighborhood where most people wore sneakers. Her hand casually resting on Tag’s arm like it belonged there.
I froze.
Tag looked up. “Hey. Didn’t think you’d still be here.”
I shrugged, folding my arms. “Couldn’t sleep.”
His companion turned toward me. “You must be Aponi. Tag’s told me so much about you.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Has he?”
She smiled—bright and polished and probably fake. “I’m Camille, an old friend of his.”
Of course, she had a name likeCamille.Not abattle-hardened detectiveortrauma-worn fighter,butCamille,who probably had a matching set of luggage and used perfume that didn’t come from a drugstore.
Okay, I’ll let the two of you check out the place. I’m sure Camille would like a look around,” I said, grabbing my coat and turning. “I was going to ask if you would like to stay here. That way, you don’t have the long commute.”
“That would be great.”
I walked outside, climbed into my car, my Apartment was two blocks away.
Tag followed me out. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Damn it, I couldn’t keep quiet. “I’m just surprised that you go for women like Camille,” I was becoming angry. “I’m nothing like her. My skin is dark, my hair is black and straight,
Tag’s gaze sharpened. “What are you talking about? You think that’s what I want?”
“I don’t know what you want,” I said. “You don’t let anyone close enough to find out.”
He didn’t blink. “I know what Idon’twant. And it’s someone fake.”
His hand lifted, not touching me—but close.
“You think those cheekbones of yours are a flaw?” he said softly. “You don’t even see it, do you?”
“See what?”
