“Why?” she asked in a deceptively soft voice.
She knew that her terrible rage simmered just below the surface, that it wouldn’t take much for it to erupt into something horrible.
Hancock sighed and put more distance between them, a small thing for her to be grateful for, but she could admit that his closeness only made her feel more trapped, more vulnerable, and if she was going to get through this, she needed any advantage she could gain.
“I’ve been working undercover a long time, Honor,” he said quietly, as if the walls themselves had ears and eyes.
Even as he spoke, he swiftly closed the distance between them once more, sliding onto the bed beside her, only this time settling himself to sit next to her, so both their backs rested against the pillows against the headboards.
“You weren’t my intended target. You merely became . . . collateral damage. An unavoidable sacrifice for the greater good.”
She made a low sound in her throat because he was subtly dancing around the issue when she wanted the straight, cold truth.
“I work for Bristow.” A cold smile twisted those ruthless lips. “Or so he’d like to believe. That I’m no threat to him. And that suits my purpose just fine. He’ll never know the truth until it’s too late.”
“He said you were adept at making people believe what you wanted them to,” she said in a detached tone. “Perhaps he knows more than you think.”
“Yes, he’s aware of my talent. He simply believes himself impervious. He’s wrong. I’ve been manipulating him since I came to work for him. I needed him only for the connection he has to a Russian named Maksimov. A man who has killed thousands upon thousands of innocent people. Women. Children. None of it matters to Maksimov. He’s unstoppable. I’ve twice been close to bringing him down and he slipped through my fingers. I won’t allow it a third time.”
She knew that she had everything to do with the confidence with which he spoke of taking him down this time. And it scared the living hell out of her.
“What could I possibly have that any of you want?” she asked scornfully, attempting to hide the paralyzing fear and sense of fatalism as she realized she was a much bigger piece of the overall picture. Perhaps the only piece that mattered now. She was completely bewildered as to how or why. She was insignificant. A nobody. How could she be so important to not one but three very powerful men—and organizations? She knew why A New Era wanted her. To save face. By why Bristow? And why this Maksimov?
She was trapped. She’d never go home. Never see her family again. Tears glittered in her vision, but she didn’t attempt to hold them back. She grieved for what could never be. For the loss of the one thing that had gotten her through so many long, painful days. Kept her going despite insurmountable odds. Hope. Hope that had been extinguished the minute Hancock revealed his cutting, impersonal betrayal. Without hope, there was only defeat. And . . . death.