“Zoe, please . . .”
“Listen,” she snapped. “The drive Kozlov has is a fake.”
And for a second, the whole world seemed to freeze. The music went away and the crowd stopped milling. “I . . . I know. But how did you . . .”
“Alex had two boxes at the bank, and I accessed both. The real drive was in box number two. So—” She threw her shoulders back and stood a little straighter. “I’ve got a message for your boss.”
“He’s not my boss, sweetheart. He’s my mission.”
“Funny. Because that’s not how it looked when you gave him the flash drive.”
“I gave up the flash drive to keep you safe!”
“You kept yourself safe. I had to jump off a mountain!”
“Because I gave you the idea!”
They were inching closer and closer because they always did—they always would. He couldn’t stay away from her any more than a compass could stop pointing north.
“You did not give me the idea!” Oh, she was annoyed. And indignant. And glorious. Right up until she realized—“Wait. Did you give me the idea? No. You just wanted me out of the way for your mission—”
“I wanted you safe because I’m in love with you!”
Sawyer couldn’t hear the sirens anymore. Not the sound of the wind or the cries of the crowd. There was nothing but those words, floating in the frigid air. He wanted to pull them back. And he wanted to shout them louder. Because Alex was right. He was in love with Zoe. He was in love with Zoe. Zoe, who was just standing there, gaping. Stammering. “You . . . You . . .”
“I know, sweetheart—”
“I’m not your sweetheart!”
He shook his head. He had to make her see. Did she really not see? “You’re my everything.”
A tsunami of emotion washed across her face. Anger and fatigue and hope? Fury and rage and longing. It was like she was experiencing a lifetime of feelings in those five seconds, running the gamut, the spectrum, trying every single emotion on for size before settling on—
“What gives you the right to give certifiable movie kisses and say certifiable hero lines and stand there with your certifiable hot guy smirks while telling me you just wanted to save my life? What gives you the right . . . you absolute jerkface!”
Sawyer gave it a second then shouted, “I don’t know what that means!”
“It means I’m in love with you, too!” she shouted even louder and the wall of ice inside of Sawyer slowly began to crack. And then he was reaching for her. Because he needed to hold her and kiss her and tell her again. He was never going to stop telling her—showing her. He was never going to stop.
But Zoe stepped away. Just one step. Just a few inches. And yet it was like watching her fly down another mountain she went so far so quickly. She was instantly out of reach.
“I love you.” Her voice was softer and her eyes were closed. “But I don’t trust you anymore.”
It was the most pain he’d ever known. Real and physical and deep until all that was left were broken bones and split skin. He was bloody and mangled and never coming clean. They were just words. And they were going to leave a scar.
“Zoe . . .” he said because it was easier than arguing. “You have to trust me.”
“No.” She shook her head and rubbed her eyes. “I don’t.”
“Then why . . . Why call me if you don’t trust me?”
She looked at him like he really must be a moron—like the answer was so clear and just right there.
“Because you want the drive. That’s the one thing I can count on. Ever since Paris . . . I was always looking for my sister, but you . . . You were always looking for the drive, weren’t you?” Her voice cracked and her hand shook as she rubbed her runny nose, but he didn’t bother to answer. “It’s the one thing I can count on.”
“You can count on me,” he told her, but she didn’t say a thing. And then a new worry grew inside of him. “Do you have it now?” He couldn’t keep the fear out of his voice, and she couldn’t keep the irony out of hers.
“Of course that’s what you’d say.”
“That drive is poison, Zoe. It’s a target on your back and you need to give it to me.”
“Why?” She gave a quick, cold laugh. “So you can give it to Kozlov? Maybe hand it over to the CIA or MI6. Or Mossad. Or—”
“Of course I’m going to hand it over! That drive is how we get rid of Kozlov. It’s the only way we . . .” He ran a hand through his hair. He could have told her a hundred lies in a half dozen languages, but, right then, the truth was the only thing that mattered. “It’s how we get free. It’s how we get safe. That drive is everything.”