Code Name Heist (Jameson Force Security 3)

And now, once again, he’s managed to lose another woman? Had he just let Sin walk out?

“Dude, that’s low,” Cruce mutters.

“Where did she go?” I shout.

He shrugs. “She’s pissed, Saint. From the moment she woke up in the car, she cursed your name up one side and down another.”

“Is she coming back?” I ask, desperately hoping she’s simply walking around Brussels to cool down.

He hesitates before answering, scrubbing his hand through his hair. But then he shakes his head. “No, she’s not. Said it was unforgivable for you to take her out like that without giving her a choice in the matter.”

I can’t suppress my eye roll. “Does she understand how hypocritical it is for her to be mad at me for doing the same damn thing to her that she did to me… which she begged me to forgive her for? Surely she gets why I did it.”

“Oh, she does,” he replies, moving to the bed and sitting on the edge. “When she wasn’t cursing you, we talked about it. She takes the opposite approach on that issue, thinking that because you know how bad it hurts to have someone not trust you enough, you shouldn’t have ever even considered doing it to her.”

“Fucking women,” I mutter. It’s not fair, but I don’t know what else to say. Unsurprisingly, she has a point. I’d known Sin was not only going to be pissed, but she’d also feel betrayed on a deeper level. A lot of her anger probably stemmed from the fact she had no clue if I even came out of my meeting with Mercier alive. I hadn’t contacted Cruce or Sin, intent on keeping our footprints to a minimum. For all Sin knows, I’m dead and Mercier is gloating with millions of dollars’ worth of diamonds.

I get it.

But damn it… she could have at least hung around and told me this shit to my face. She could have yelled. Could have even hit me.

Anything other than leave me.

“Did she say where she was going?” I ask, my mind starting to spin as I try to figure out an alternate plan. “London to her dad?”

Cruce shakes his head again. “She wouldn’t tell me, even though I practically begged. Specifically said she didn’t want you coming after her. But she did take the new identification we’d had made for her, so she should be able to travel under the radar at least.”

That’s actually good news. I’m not only frustrated over possibly losing Sin, but I’m also worried about her safety. Part of the final plan was to get Sin and me out of Europe undetected. If Mercier rats us out at some point, we need plausible deniability. The best way to manage that is to have nothing traceable that’s able to prove we were even here.

“I’ll head to London. She has to be there.”

“Like hell, you will,” Cruce exclaims, popping off the bed. “We’ve developed a strong alibi for you, and your ass is getting on the private jet that Kynan jumped through a lot of hoops to procure. You cannot be gallivanting all over Europe right now.”

“But—”

“But nothing,” he growls, stalking over to a roll-on suitcase he has packed in the corner. “We’re leaving now. That was the plan for when you got here… straight to the airport, then we’re out of here.”

“I can’t leave her behind,” I say, hating the vulnerability in my voice.

“You’re not,” he replies flatly. “She left you. It’s done, Saint. Now let’s go.”

Cruce tosses the suitcase on the bed, then opens it. He pulls out a smaller black bag, unzips the side, and reveals some flesh-colored pieces of silicon to change the shapes of our noses. Next, he digs out two wigs.

Our disguises will match the passports we’ll use to exit Brussels. He passes me the supplies. “Put your stuff on. We need to go.”

I take the materials, then stomp toward the bathroom.

“I gave Sin her disguise,” he says without me having to ask. “If she wants to head to Pittsburgh, she knows to use it and the passport associated with it. She’ll be fine, okay?”

“Yeah… fine,” I mutter.

But it’s not okay.

It appears my future with Sin was nothing more than a pipe dream.CHAPTER 27SinMy anger at Saint is mostly what’s driving me to do this, but it’s not the only thing. There’s the minor matter of alleviating my conscience if I’m going to move forward with my life. Had Saint trusted me enough, I would have been able to walk away from everything, including what I’m getting ready to do now.

But things hadn’t worked out with Saint, had they? He took matters into his own hands, and he’d chosen to betray the trust we had started to build back up. He’d done the same exact thing to me that I had to him. What pisses me off the most is that he knows how much it hurts.