“Tell me you love me.” All of a sudden, I need this from her. “Tell me, Nora.”

She doesn’t blink. “I love you.”

My arms tighten around her. “Again.”

“I love you, Julian.” She holds my gaze, her eyes soft and dark. “More than anything else in the world.”

Fuck. My chest constricts, the ache intensifying rather than easing. It’s too much, yet somehow not enough.

Bending my head, I claim her lips again, putting all the things I can’t express in words into that kiss. I feel her breathing growing shallow, and I know I’m holding her too tightly, but I can’t help it. Mixed with the overwhelming longing is a strange, irrational fear.

Fear that I might lose her. That she might slip away, like some beautiful, ephemeral dream.

No. I angle my head to delve deeper into her mouth, letting her taste, her scent, absorb me, chasing away the shadows. She won’t slip away. I won’t let her. She’s real, and she’s mine. I kiss her until we’re both gasping for air, until the fear inside me abates, burned away by the scorching heat.

Then I make love to her, as tenderly as I can.

When I drift off to sleep some time later, it’s with Nora cocooned safely in my embrace.

Chapter 6

Nora

It takes all of my willpower to remain awake as I hear Julian’s breathing take on the even rhythm of sleep. My own eyelids feel heavy, my body lethargic from exhaustion and sexual satiation. All I want to do is close my eyes and let the comforting darkness swallow me, but I can’t.

There’s something I must do first.

I wait until I’m certain Julian is asleep, and then I carefully wriggle out of his hold. To my relief, he doesn’t stir, so I get up and find the robe that had fallen on the floor during sex.

Quietly putting it on, I pad barefoot into the bathroom. My stomach, still unsettled from dinner, roils with nausea again, and I have to swallow several times to keep the food from coming back up.

It’s probably not the best idea to do this when I’m feeling sick. I know that—but I also know that if I don’t do this now, I may not have the courage to attempt it later. And I need to do this. I need to fulfill my promise, to repay the debt I owe Peter. It’s important to me. I don’t want to be the girl who can’t take any action on her own, the wife who always lives in her husband’s shadow.

I don’t want to be Julian’s helpless little pet for the rest of my life.

Splashing cold water on my face, I take several deep breaths to quell my nausea and walk back into the bedroom. The shades are open just a sliver, but the moon is full tonight, and there’s enough light for me to see where I’m going.

My destination is the dresser, on top of which Julian’s laptop is sitting. He doesn’t always bring the computer into the bedroom, but he did tonight—which is another reason why I don’t want to wait to implement my plan.

The plan itself is beyond simple. I’m going to take the laptop, access Julian’s email, and send the list to Peter. If everything goes well, Julian won’t find out about this for a while. And by the time he does, it will be too late. I will have repaid my debt to Julian’s former security consultant, and my conscience will be clear.

Well, as clear as it can be knowing that Peter will likely kill the people on that list in horrifying ways.

No, don’t think about it. I remind myself that those people are responsible for the deaths of Peter’s wife and son. They’re not innocent civilians, and I shouldn’t think of them as such.

The only thing I should worry about at the moment is getting the list to Peter without waking up Julian.

I walk across the room as quietly as I can, my heart thumping heavily in my chest. When I reach the dresser, I stop and listen.

All is quiet. Julian must still be asleep.

Biting my lip, I reach for the laptop and pick it up. Then I pause to listen again.

The room is still silent.

Exhaling slowly, I walk back toward the bathroom, cradling the laptop against my chest. When I get there, I slip inside, lock the door behind me, and sit down on the edge of the Jacuzzi.

So far, so good. Ignoring the churning in my stomach, I open the laptop.

A password request box pops up.

I take another deep breath, fighting my worsening nausea. I expected this. Julian is paranoid about security and changes his password at least once a week. However, the last time he changed it was the day after Frank, Julian’s CIA contact, emailed him the list.

Julian changed it when I was already hatching my plan—and I made sure I was nearby when he did so. I didn’t stare at his laptop, of course. That would’ve been suspicious. Instead, I quietly filmed him with my smartphone while pretending to be checking my email.

Now if only I interpreted the recorded keystrokes correctly . . .

Holding my breath, I put in “NML_#042160” and hit “enter.”

The computer screen blinks . . . and I’m in.

My breath whooshes out in relief. Now all I need to do is find the email from Frank, open the attachment, log into my own email, and send the list to the same email address that Peter has been contacting me from.

Should be easy enough, especially if I can keep my dinner down.

“Nora?” A knock startles me so much that I almost drop the computer. My lungs seize with panic, and I freeze, staring at the door.

Julian knocks again. “Nora, baby, are you all right?”

He doesn’t know I have his computer. The realization causes me to start breathing again.