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Tears streamed down her cheeks. Let her cry, Matthew thought grimly. It wouldn’t change a thing.

Except, it did.

Her sobs were wrenching. He’d seen women weep before, but never like this. If it was an act, his Mia deserved an Academy Award.

His Mia. His beautiful, courageous, incredible Mia.

“Don’t cry,” he said gruffly.

Mia shook her head. “I hate you,” she said brokenly.

“Yeah. Just like you hate Hamilton.”

Her head came up. The look she gave him, through tearstained lashes, was one he knew he’d never forget.

“Which do you want, Matthew, the truth—or the lies he told you?”

He didn’t answer. Then he shrugged. “I’m listening,” he said tonelessly.

“I was his secretary a few years ago, when he was stationed in Washington. The Agency figured he’d turned but they needed proof. Since I knew Douglas, they asked me to go to Colombia as his personal—”

“Assistant. I know all of that.” Matthew’s jaw tightened. “And then,” he said softly, his eyes locked to hers, “you saw a way to make a killing. You could smuggle dope—”

“No!”

“And you could sell out the Agency and DEA people working undercover.”

“No!” Mia pounded her fist against his chest. “Do you really think I could do that?”

Matthew looked into her eyes. Felt the warm softness of her in his arms. Something deep inside him seemed to crumble. It was, he thought with wonder, the wall he’d built around his heart.

“Do you?”

His arms tightened around her. “No,” he whispered into her hair. “No, baby, I know you couldn’t.”

Mia caught her breath. “Matthew. Oh, Matthew…”

She lifted her face and he kissed her hungrily, tasting not just the sweetness of her mouth but the innate goodness of her soul.

“Tell me,” he murmured. “Let it all out, sweetheart. I know what it’s like to keep the ugliness inside.”

She told him everything.

How Hamilton had stumbled across her leafing through his files. How he’d set her up so it looked as if she’d tried to smuggle cocaine.

“He held it over my head,” she said, her voice shaking. “He said he’d have me locked away in a Colombian prison before I could even think about contacting anyone unless I reported back and told them they’d been wrong about him. He said—he said the only way I could guarantee I’d behave would be to sleep with him.”

Matthew’s vision reddened. Hamilton, he thought coldly, Hamilton, you son of a bitch, I should have killed you.

“I said I would, but I begged him to give me some time. The next morning, I broke into his computer, found a file that listed all his contacts in the cartel and at the embassy—”

“The embassy, too?”

She nodded. “That’s why I didn’t just send the list to Bogotá. I didn’t know who I could trust. So I copied the list onto a miniature compact disk and took off.”

“Just, took off. Without a destination in mind.”

“All I knew was, I had to get away with that list.” She gave a wobbly laugh. “I stashed the little CD in my compact.”