“Niccolo doesn’t like to be crossed,” he says, sitting next to me. “He’ll kill Alessandro if we aren’t careful, and we need him as our fall guy for the death of Neuville and his men.”
“I see.” I watch as he sets a croissant sandwich on each of our plates. “That makes sense, but what do we do about Gallo?”
He opens a bottle of water and takes a deep drink. “For starters,” he says, setting it down, “Chief Donati is going to give Gallo reason to believe the threat came from a criminal Gallo took down last year, who later escaped and disappeared.” He takes a bite of his sandwich and motions for me to eat.
“Well, since Niccolo claims to have Donati under control, that seems like a smart move. So why does ‘for starters’ suggest there’s more to this plan?”
“In premise it is a smart move,” he agrees, setting down his sandwich, “but Alessandro is obviously looking for a way to use Gallo against me. He’ll go after Gallo the minute he’s back here—and considering the dangerous direction this has now taken, I’m sure Sasha has figured out that her involvement is just too risky.”
“She has,” I confirm, “but what about having her go to Milan and try to keep him there until things settle down a bit?”
“Considering Gallo’s in volatile state, I’d just as soon cut the jugular and kill any power Alessandro has to corrupt him.”
“That sounds like a plan already formed.”
“Ultimately, Gallo’s a good cop. A bitter pain in the ass, but still a good cop. We’ll just tell him some version of the truth.”
“He hates you too much to see the truth, Kayden.”
“I’ll have Adriel and Sasha talk to him.”
“That would be weird,” I say. “Sasha’s been sleeping with Gallo, and she and Adriel have more than the casual fling they pretend exists. Gallo might get that vibe, and it could turn him in the wrong direction on this.”
He arches a brow. “Do they, now? That’s news to me.”
I nod. “They haven’t told me that, but it’s in the way they look at each other and interact.”
“I’ll trust you on that, so we’ll cut both of them out of this. I’ll prep Nathan to talk to Gallo when he returns.” He studies me a moment, lacing his fingers together on the table. “Trigger told me nothing more than what I’ve told you. I promise.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“You didn’t have to. Did that wall of memories you created in the closet help you remember anything?”
“I just put it up, so no. Not yet, but I do feel like I’m starting to form real memories about things that aren’t requiring flashbacks.”
“Anything you feel is important?”
“Well, it’s not the location of the necklace, or any time or place that places me as a CIA agent.” My brow furrows. “Actually, maybe that’s not completely true.” I shove my plate aside and rest my arms on the table. “Aside from the combat training memory I had, there’s one of David back in Paris. As I told you, we had a fight and he left. I slammed the door and leaned against it. I ripped off the necklace, and then scolded myself for playing my character too deeply.”
Kayden’s eyes sharpen. “Are you saying he was an assignment?”
“No,” I say, certainty in my reply, “yet I see why that memory makes you assume that.” Frustrated that I can’t remember more, I push to my feet and walk to the coffeepot, removing two cups from above the sink. And right when I reach for the cups, I remember more about that night with David. I’ve just ripped the necklace off, and I’m staring at how truly stunning the stones are. It’s beautiful, and I ripped it off and for what? This is a character I’m playing. I suck in air with that thought and then shut my eyes, and silently plead with my mind to give me more.
I squat beside the necklace and reach for it, noticing the piece of paper hanging out of it. Snatching it up, I note the address written on it. “Damn it,” I murmur. I’d already decided he was a dud assignment, a man mixed up with someone else, and I’d be pulled off it any day now, yet clearly I was wrong. He’s using me, just like I’m using him. I stare at the piece of paper, obligated to investigate, but I’m not doing it right now. I’m here not for him or for my job. I’m here to follow up on a name and address I found in my father’s copy of Carrie by Stephen King.
My eyes pop open. “I was wrong. He was an assignment.”
“You sound more certain than ever,” Kayden says, stepping beside me.
I face him, both of us resting our elbows on the granite surface, while I quickly recap my memory. “I thought of him as an assignment, Kayden, and that explains why I’d jump all over the crazy drunk proposal. That’s how that happened: he was drunk and he proposed. I was like—great, Paris. I need to go to Paris, and the CIA won’t be suspicious. They assigned me this guy.”
His jaw sets and he turns my back against the counter, his hands coming down on either side of me. “Answer every question I’m about to ask you with the first thing that pops into your head. If David was an assignment, why not call the CIA for help when he died?”
“I was looking into my father’s death, and I wasn’t sure I wasn’t being set up.”
“Why?”