Chapter 3

3

Las Vegas, Nevada: Three days later

"When I am afraid, I put my trust in you."—Psalm 56:3

The familiar words coated Cody's anxiety, dulling it the way Pepto calmed a rocky stomach. Muting the feelings, but not erasing them entirely. He was trying really hard to hold onto his newfound faith, but he could feel the wheels starting to come off. Living in darkness for over a decade would do that to a guy.

He stared into his ginger ale, the ice cubes clinking softly as he swirled the glass. The cacophony of slot machines and drunken laughter grated on his nerves, a stark contrast to the faux-Renaissance decor of the swanky faux-Italianate casino. He glanced up at the country duo massacring Johnny Cash on stage, wincing as the female singer hit a particularly sour note.

The frantic energy of the casino felt as artificial as the badly painted cherubs on the ceiling. Or maybe it was just him. After years of living undercover, he wasn't sure he'd recognize authenticity if it bit him.

His thoughts drifted to Paige. Her infectious laugh, her brilliant mind, the way her eyes lit up when she solved a particularly tricky coding problem. He'd fallen hard and fast, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. But in the end, he'd been the one to extinguish that light.

His chest tightened at the memory of her face when she realized what he'd done. The hurt, the betrayal. It was an image that haunted his dreams.

And she didn't know the half of it.

He took another sip of his drink, the ginger burning his throat. This was his chance to make things right. Or at least, as right as they could be. Paige and her team needed something from him, and he needed something back.

As for rekindling anything with Paige? Out of the question. Not that she'd be interested. He'd torched that when he strode into the dean's office.

"Get me out, and I'll help you find Jason," he rehearsed under his breath. Simple. Straightforward. No need for explanations or apologies she wouldn't believe anyway.

The irony wasn't lost on him. He'd pushed Paige away to protect her, and now he needed her to save him. But she didn't need to know that. Didn't need to know the depths he'd sunk to in service of his cover.

He'd have to keep her close, without letting her get close. He shook his head. What a mess.

Cody checked his watch. Almost time. He steeled himself for the confrontation to come. Whether Paige believed in him or not didn't matter. This was business, plain and simple.

At least, that's what he told himself as he scanned the crowd, his heart rate quickening at the thought of seeing her again.

His breath caught as he spotted Paige approaching the fountain. His gaze swept over her, cataloging every detail.

Shoulder-length black hair. Bright pink streak. Check.

Five-six. Buck twentyish. Stunning figure. Check.

She looked the same. Only better.

How was that possible?

"Still rocking the pink streak," he murmured, a smile tugging at his lips despite himself.

She was a vision, her lithe figure weaving through the crowd with unconscious grace. Time had only enhanced her beauty.

The casino's bustling Saturday night crowd provided ample cover. Bodies pressed together, the din of voices and slot machines creating a cacophonous shield. He eyed the exits again, mapping his escape route in case Paige had baited a trap. The bathroom downstairs held his ticket to anonymity—a wig and fresh shirt that would render him invisible, if necessary.

He watched as she reached the fountain, her dark eyes scanning the throng. Her fingers absently twirled a lock of hair. His heart clenched at the familiar gesture.

"Some things never change," he whispered, fighting the urge to approach her.

Paige's shoulders tensed, her gaze sharp as she assessed potential threats. Cody recognized the signs of her heightened awareness, a bittersweet reminder of the innocence she'd lost.

I did that to you, he thought, guilt gnawing at him. Or at least he'd started it. A decade in black ops pretty much solidified her caution.

Trust was a luxury neither of them could afford. The irony wasn't lost on him.

Minutes ticked by. Paige's shoulders slumped, disappointment evident in the line of her body. With a final glance around, she melted back into the crowd.

"Showtime," he muttered, pushing away from the bar.

The cacophony of jackpot sirens and drunken laughter faded as he tapped his watch. "I need casino floor area 10 offline now. Re-engage in sixty seconds."

The security feed blinked out.

He pushed through the crowd, cologne and cigarette smoke assaulting his nostrils as he caught up to Paige. His fingers closed around her arm, warm and soft beneath his grip. Her jasmine perfume, achingly familiar, threatened to break his composure.

"Well, hey there, Cody." Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "Long time, no see. I'm good. Great, actually. How about you?"

"Keep moving," he growled, pulling her along.

He towed her to the back of the casino floor and into a corridor containing guest restrooms and doors to the service side of the operation. The noise of the crowd gave way to the muffled thud of their footsteps on plush carpet. Once he pushed through the double doors, the fancy décor disappeared, revealing metal stairs in a utilitarian hallway. The air cooled as they descended, the scent of cleaning products replacing the smoky haze above.

"Oh, I see. We're going for the grand tour," Paige continued, her breath warm against his ear. "Down into the depths we go. How very ... subterranean of you."

"Quiet," he hissed, but his grip on her arm loosened slightly.

She was narrating their journey for her team listening in over comms. It didn't matter. Where he was taking her, they'd be out of reach.

Their footfalls echoed in the stairwell, a rhythmic counterpoint to her steady stream of commentary. "You know, most guys just ask a girl out for coffee. But no, you had to go for the whole ‘cloak and dagger' routine."

"This isn't a date, Paige," he muttered, fighting the urge to smile.

That would have been fun.

The lowest level greeted them with stark fluorescent lighting and the faint hum of distant machinery. Their shoes clicked on polished concrete as they approached the vault.

"Ah, the vault. How original," Paige's voice was laden with fake enthusiasm. "I suppose this is where you keep all your dirty little secrets, hmm?"

"You have no idea," Cody replied, his voice low and tight.

The vault door loomed before them, cold metal reflecting their distorted images. His fingers flew over the keypad, each beep unnaturally loud in the silence. The door swung open with a pneumatic hiss, releasing a blast of climate-controlled air.

"After you." He shoved her inside.

Paige stumbled, her hair brushing his cheek as she passed. "Such a gentleman," she quipped, her voice echoing in the confined space. "You really know how to make a girl feel special."

Her dark eyes blazed in the dim light. He saw fear there, yes, but also a defiance that made his chest tighten with a mixture of pride and regret.

He punched the buttons on the inner wall panel that closed the door. "Cut the chatter. You always did talk too much."

Hurt shuttered the gleam in her eyes. Good. He needed to keep that up. Keep her on edge. And angry.

She glared at him. "So, what's the plan now? Lock me up with all this cash and throw away the key? Or is this just stop one on our magical mystery tour of betrayal?"

He steeled himself, burying his emotions beneath a mask of cold indifference. It was a familiar act, but never had it been more difficult to maintain. "The plan is for you to follow my orders."

"Still a jerk. Nice to know some things never change."

Cody's jaw clenched as he watched her examine the vault, cataloging every detail. The dim light cast shadows across her face, accentuating the sharp line of her cheekbones and the stubborn set of her jaw. Despite the fear he could sense radiating off her, she stood tall. Defiant.

He kept his expression impassive, moving closer, until he backed her against the wall. The metal was cool against his palm as he leaned in, his face inches from hers.

"Things aren't always what they seem. You of all people should know that."

Uncertainty flickered in her eyes, quickly masked by anger. The scent of her perfume enveloped him, bringing back a flood of memories he'd tried so hard to suppress.

"Oh, I know plenty," Paige shot back, tilting her chin up defiantly. "I know you're working for the Consortium. How long has it been? Did you actually have a real job with the NSA after graduation, or did you go bad straight away?"

As she clearly wasn't expecting an answer, he saved himself the trouble.

"What I don't know is why you bothered to drag me down here. Why the cryptic summons in Croatia? What's your angle?"

Her breath was warm on his face, her proximity both intoxicating and maddening. Cody fought the urge to close the distance between them, to make her understand with actions what he couldn't say in words.

Instead, he stepped back, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "It's complicated."

"There's a shocker," Paige retorted, but there was a hint of something else beneath the sarcasm. Curiosity, maybe. Or hope.

He wished.

Cody turned away, ostensibly to check the vault door, but really to gather his thoughts. He knew he was walking a dangerous line. One wrong move, one misplaced word, and … boom.

But as he turned back to face her, seeing the mixture of anger, fear, and longing in her eyes, he realized he might not have a choice. The truth was a luxury he couldn't afford, but lying to her again might just break them both.