Page 141 of Player
Clarissa
“Got to say,” a familiar voice interrupts my struggles, “you got a mean left foot.”
Finn.
“Don’t scream. Nod if you understand.”
I shake my head and the hand covering my mouth falls away. He spins me around so we’re face-to-face. All the hurt and frustration he’s caused I express with a glare.
He’s a stranger to me. Someone I mistook for someone worthy of my love.
And the things he’s done.
He single-handedly killed twenty men. Five more prior to that. One more—Vidal—even before that. With one eye swollen shut and his right arm oozing blood. “Who are you?”
“No one you want to know.”
His answer is quick, vague, and familiar—because didn’t I hear this exact response from the man in the suit? Finn abruptly lurches forward, tugging my camcorder strap free from my shoulder.
I slam my elbow into his chest, desperately trying to knock him off-balance. But I’m fighting a brick wall. “Go ahead. Take it.”
A frown mars his handsome, lying face as he fiddles with the Bluetooth camcorder’s high-tech buttons and curses beneath his breath.
“Good luck.”
He looks up at me.
“Once bitten, twice shy.”
“Clarissa.”
I point a finger toward the invisible iCloud above. “With a click of a button, everything is uploaded and saved on a highly-encrypted drive. Practically military-grade, according to the CIA agent who recommended it.”
If looks could kill.
“Password. Right now.”
I snort. “As if.”
“Feck.” He stalks forward, forcing me to step backward until I’m up against the building. “Do you have a death wish?”
“Are you threatening me?”
I don’t know him.
I’ve witnessed what he’s capable of.
I should be afraid. Very afraid.
“You take any videos of the man in the fancy suit?”
I swallow hard. It’s all the answer he needs.
“Christ on a bike.” He pauses. “I need that password.”
“I need to protect what’s left of my story.”
We lock eyes.
