Sinful Deception (Covert Affairs Book 3) (17 page)

Breathing hard, hands fisted, heart breaking, she pivoted toward the front of the house and walked, head down. Marcus’s voice rang out, carrying across the distance with an order for Cedro to stop. Two other agents came around the house and took off past her, joining the chase. Tova didn’t look back.

With confusion and loss drilling holes through her heart, Tova strode directly to Zoe where she stood with other agents beside a vehicle, and took a shaky breath. “I want to leave. Right now.”

* * * * *

From behind two-way glass at the ICE detention center in San Diego, Marcus watched Tova sitting alone in the interview room, knees tucked to her chest, one arm circling them, one hand holding her cell at her ear.

He’d turned off the sound, unable to listen to her explaining everything to her mother another moment. The whole situation had broken his heart some time that morning.

She’d softened the blow for her parents, even though no one had done that for her—including Marcus. He felt sick about it, which, he knew now, was a real problem. He’d done the right thing in the field—offering outs to bad guys in an effort to save an innocent’s life was an acceptable risk. Something he’d done before. But today, he’d seen Tova’s safety as everything in the moment, and he’d been willing to give up far more to keep her safe.

In that instant, his outlook had shifted. And now some of those situations that brought up the inescapable moral dilemmas in the field—like that family that had passed through last week, and the little boy he still couldn’t seem to shake from his mind—didn’t look so clear-cut anymore.

But that was his problem. Not something Tova would understand. Or, he doubted, even care to understand at this point. He didn’t blame her.

The door opened, and Zoe and Rio walked in. Marcus turned his gaze back to Tova, a tissue in her hand, a box on the table in front of her, and a dozen crumpled balls of tissue sitting beside that. Would she recover from her brother’s betrayal? Or his own? Would she ever be able to forget the conditions of those stash houses? Or hearing of the crimes those men had committed?

He hoped she would. He prayed she would.

“We’ve got thirteen of the men on murder charges in the US,” Rio said. “And half of them can’t talk fast enough in trade for asylum. We’ve got deep intel on five different cartels. Already have our undercovers in those countries staging arrests for three key players within the Zetas with local authorities.”

When Rio paused, Marcus nodded but didn’t look away from Tova. He wanted to hold her so badly, his arms ached.

“We could use men like you in this department, Marcus,” Rio said. “Interested in transferring? I’m not knocking Border Patrol, but our hours and pay are a step up.”

That pulled his gaze around. He looked at Rio but didn’t really see him. Something clicked in Marcus’s mind. He envisioned the work they’d done today. Flashed to what Zoe had told him of her work with ICE since she’d left Border Patrol. With ICE, Marcus would be going after known bad guys. No gray area. No moral dilemmas.

He turned back to the window and Tova. “Thanks.” He let out a breath. “That’s…appealing. But I’ve…gotta get some things straight before I can think about that.”

Rio nodded. “Offer’s open. Good work.”

He exited the room, and Zoe joined him at the window, where they both watched as Tova disconnected with her parents, tossed her phone onto the table, and dropped her head into her hands. Her shoulders shook with sobs they couldn’t hear.

“This would be a good night to eat my gun,” Marcus muttered.

“Don’t even joke about that,” Zoe scolded. “She’s strong, Marcus. And she believes in what she did. She handed you Cedro because she knows what he did was wrong. But he’s still her brother. Give her some time to sort it all out.”

“What would you do if Taft had lied to you the way I lied to Tova?” he asked of Zoe’s boyfriend, an agent with Department of Homeland Security’s Counterterrorism Task Force.

Zoe paused, and Marcus crossed his arms, cutting a glance her way.

With a smirk, she said, “I’d nail him in the balls.” She turned and patted Marcus’s bicep with “Invest in a good cup before you talk to her again.”

Zoe exited, and the space fell quiet again. In the other room, Tova folded her arms on the table and laid her cheek there. Residual shaky breaths occasionally shook her body. He needed to go in. Talk to her. Not that anything he could say would heal her hurt—or mend things between them—but he still had to do it.

The door to his room opened, and one of the agents stuck his head in. “Agent Paulson needs to talk to you.”

“Be right there.”

When the door closed again, he spent one long last moment watching Tova’s even, deep breaths as she dozed, much the way he had the night before, after making love to her.

Now that seemed more like a fantasy, one he’d killed before it ever got a chance to turn into reality.

Fourteen

Tova’s head pounded. Her eyes hurt. Her stomach burned. And all the aches and pains from being beaten nearly twenty-four hours ago seemed worse tonight.

She was exhausted—mentally, emotionally, and physically.

Her mother was a mess, her father trying to be the strong one, when Tova knew all three of them wondered what none of them could say:
Where did we go wrong?

She pulled her legs to her chest, rested her forearms on her knees, and picked the label from her empty water bottle. And as soon as she stopped thinking about Cedro and her parents, Marcus filled her mind. A fresh wave of tears threatened and she blinked hard to keep them back. But all she could see was the change in his expression when Cedro had turned the gun on her—from an intense determination to indecision. Then self-doubt. And finally fear.

But what had been stretching over his handsome face when he’d set down his weapon and opened himself to a bullet in the hopes of getting Cedro to let her go had been guilt. She hadn’t recognized it in the moment. Or when she’d told him to fuck himself. Or even when she’d demanded to get out of there without talking to him first. She only recognized it now, when she’d had time to decompress, and could replay it all in her mind. When it was too late to take the words back.

She dropped her forehead to her knees with a heavy exhale. It didn’t matter now. After this, he wouldn’t want her. What Cedro had done tainted everyone it touched, and now he’d touched Marcus. He’d touched the fragile beginnings of their relationship.

The door opened, and she looked up so fast—hoping to see Marcus—that her head swam. She winced and pressed her hand to her temple.

“Sorry.” The voice was male and deep, but not Marcus’s. Tova had already talked with several men tonight, including someone from the attorney general’s office. Now she gingerly lifted her lashes to see another man, Hispanic, strikingly handsome with dark skin, dark hair, and bright green eyes, standing near the door. He wore a gun and a badge on his belt, khakis, and a deep-blue polo shirt. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“That’s kind of easy to do lately.” She uncurled her legs and sat straight in the chair, taking his hand when he offered it.

“I’m Rio Cordova, chief of investigations.”

She barely managed to keep from blowing him off. How many times could she repeat the same information?

He pulled the only other chair in the room to her side, sitting next to her instead of across from her, and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “I know this has been…traumatizing…for you, Tova. But I wanted you to know what kind of difference your help made here tonight.” He set several papers down on the table. “Today, we kept fifty-four criminals off American streets. These are the three most dangerous, all of whom are guilty of multiple murders, torture, kidnapping, rape, assault, drug and weapons trafficking, and a slew of other, smaller charges.”

He spread out the three images, and Tova glanced at their faces, but all she saw were average-looking, young Hispanic males. In a better frame of mind, she might have remembered seeing them at some point today.

“These two”
—
Rio split two fingers and tapped the last two images
—
“have been linked to the group that orchestrated 9/11.” He clasped his hands. “Not only are these guys off the streets, but they’ll eventually give us even more valuable intel on other bad guys still out there.”

Tova nodded, caught between relief and regret. “What will happen to Cedro?”

Rio sat back and crossed his arms. “A lot of that depends on Cedro. If he chooses to help us secure charges against the Zetas, we can help with his sentence, his prison placement. If not…”

Rio didn’t have to finish. Tova knew if Cedro didn’t help them, the cartel would eventually kill him. The thought wrenched her heart. “Can I go now?”

“Yes. I’ll have someone take you home,” he said, pushing to his feet. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and fished out a business card, offering it to her. “If there’s anything you need, if you have any questions, please call.”

She glanced blankly at the front of the white card with simple black lettering and the ICE emblem in the corner. Randomly, she wondered if Marcus had business cards, then pushed the odd thought away.

“For what it’s worth,” Rio said, drawing her blurry gaze from the card, “I’m the one who came up with the plan of having you come on the raids to identify Cedro, not Marcus. He went along with it because he believed, as I did and still do, that it was the only way to keep your brother out of cartel hands, which will ultimately save his life.”

“Thank you.” She managed a weak smile, more for Rio’s attempt to come to Marcus’s aid than because of what he said. “But…” Her gaze slid back to the card, but she was thinking about Marcus. “I’d pretty much already figured that out.”

* * * * *

Marcus stood at the door to her interview room an extra second, steeling himself for whatever came. He’d lied to her, used her, and put her in harm’s way. Her family had been shredded. And her brother… God only knew what would happen to him.

It was over between them. Over before it had even gotten a decent start. He had to face it.

“Just get it over with,” he told himself and opened the door.

She sat in the chair, legs pulled up, arms crossed on top of her knees, head down. She didn’t look up. He didn’t blame her; she had to be exhausted. But she wasn’t asleep, because her hands occasionally clenched, then released—as if she were getting ready to punch something.

Since he’d beat himself up enough for one day, he set the fresh bottle of water he’d brought on the table and stepped back. Out of range. When she still didn’t move, he cleared his throat. “I, um…brought you some pain meds—”

Her head darted up, but her gaze hadn’t even cleared before a grimace twisted her face. She groaned and put her hand over her forehead. “Fuck. Why do I keep
doing
that?”

Marcus had to fist his hands to keep from reaching out to soothe her. “Want some Advil? Tylenol? I’ve got both.”

“Yes and yes.” She held out her hand, and Marcus dropped the pills into her palm. After she popped them into her mouth, he handed her the water. Then stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and stood there…like a teenaged boy sent to apologize to a shopkeeper he’d stolen from. Only…this time, no apology would do.

“Tova—” he started, then closed his eyes a split second before meeting her gaze again. And opened his mouth to speak.

“I know,” she said, voice rough but soft.

“Know what?”

“You had to lie because I wouldn’t have believed Cedro was involved if you’d told me. And I wouldn’t have gone to identify him.” She glanced down at the table, her voice growing even softer. “I would have felt like I was betraying him.”

All the air left Marcus’s chest. Every defense disappeared. “I’m…so sorry.”

She laughed, the sound sad, licked her lips, and lifted her gaze back to his. “Yeah, I know that too. It’s been written all over you all damn day. I didn’t realize what it was until after everything had happened.” She nodded. “It’s your job. And you love your job.”

His jaw clenched. “This isn’t the part I love.”

She sat straighter, hands in her lap, and took a deep breath. Her face was ravaged with tears. “You know what part I don’t love? The part where you put your gun down when someone still had one pointed at you.” Her voice grew stronger. Her expression angrier. Her gaze glassed over with more tears. “He was totally freaked-out. In over his head. He could have
shot
you. Right in front of my damn
eyes
, Marcus.”

“Tova—”

“I know why you did it, I understand, but that doesn’t make it right. You shouldn’t have risked yourself that way.”

She turned her hand over on the table and reached toward him. His throat squeezed, his mind twisted, unsure he was seeing right, interpreting correctly. When it remained, he took a chance and slid his hand into hers. And when she didn’t jerk away, hope rushed through him like light, and he crouched in front of her.

“Cedro was wrong.” She pulled his hand to her lips and pressed a kiss to the backs of his fingers, and the sight sucker punched him. “In a hundred ways, he was wrong. I know you weren’t trying to hurt me. Or Cedro. You were doing what was right.”