Chapter 7
Seven
“Married!” The yelped word got cut off as somebody cuffed the speaker on the back of the head.
Brax sighed. He supposed, given Mia’s assessment that her crew were a bunch of gossips, a week was a solid period of peace before the news got out about their connection. They’d probably only gotten that much because she’d been working everybody ninety to nothing from the swing of the first sledgehammer.
It was weird seeing her in command like this. She ran a tight crew and worked harder than any of her men. They treated her with deference and respect, something he knew would be hard-earned by a woman in this kind of job. She dished and joked with them without tolerating any pissing around or time-wasting.
The hard work showed in the stripped-out shell of the building. Everything, including the God-awful bathrooms, had been gutted. The drop ceiling was gone, and Mia and her team were currently going over the electrical with a fine-toothed comb, upgrading and replacing wiring as necessary. The hum of a generator and air compressor underscored the thump of hammers and nail guns as others framed up new walls. The garish work lamps that had been hauled in to illuminate their progress gave the whole thing the air of a crime scene.
“I thought she was widowed.”
“I always assumed she was divorced.”
“She’s not a lesbian?”
“No, you idiot. Just because she’s good at building shit, doesn’t make her a lesbian.”
The whispered conversation cut off as all three men realized Brax was glaring at them.
“Looks like the cat is out of the bag,” Holt murmured.
“So it seems.”
“She did warn you.”
“Yeah.” He hadn’t seen the need to address it. But that had been before the death glares from the guy who’d worked with her in Washington. At least, he assumed that’s who Luca was. He was new to town, whereas Mia had been here for a couple of years. Brax had picked up that much from listening in to conversations this week.
The guy kept staring at Brax as if he had the power to incinerate him on the spot with his eyes. Just what was the nature of his relationship with Mia? And why did Brax care? They’d already sorted out their terms for the divorce agreement. Simple. Civilized. No muss, no fuss. He’d choked back all the questions he’d wanted to ask, deeming it better not to open that can of worms since they’d be working together for the next few months. She was having the formal document drawn up by her attorney. The dissolution of their marriage was a waiting game at this point. She could see whoever the hell she wanted to see.
Was that why she hadn’t fought him on any of it, after not pursuing a divorce all these years? Because Luca was waiting in the wings?
It didn’t matter. Divorce was what he wanted.
But he hadn’t been able to forget that she’d said it wasn’t what she wanted.
The question of what she did want was becoming harder and harder not to ask, because the woman he saw now bore no resemblance to the image of her he’d built up in his mind. The one he’d held on to for all these years to keep his anger alive. That anger was getting harder and harder to maintain. Maybe if she’d offered excuses or justifications. But she’d done none of that. Said nothing to defend herself. And he didn’t know how to make sense of that. Then again, he hadn’t given her the option.
Something clattered to the concrete floor below where Mia perched on a ladder, working on wiring above her head.
“Shit. Can somebody hand me those wire cutters?”
Brax crossed over, scooping them up before anyone else could.
She met his eyes for a charged moment before taking the tool from his hand. “Thanks.”
He just nodded as she reached up and resumed her work. His gaze dropped to the swath of bare skin revealed by the rise of her shirt. He couldn’t help it. Her abs were toned and tight, and a hint of ink along her side had his fingers itching to touch and explore. Not that he’d do any such thing. But old habits apparently died hard. He was about to turn away when he caught sight of an angry knot of scar tissue just above her hip. One he’d never seen before. The wheal of it twisted in a far-too-familiar pattern that made his blood run cold.
“There. The last of the damage from the rats is fixed.” Mia shoved the wire cutters into her tool belt and came down the ladder. “We can finish up wiring the extra?—”
Brax barely heard her. The moment her feet touched the floor, he grabbed her wrist, intending to pull her closer for a better look at the scar. “What the fuck is this?”
She exploded into motion, flowing with the momentum to drive an elbow into his gut. Brax countered the groin strike—barely—and released her, taking two steps back, his hands held up in peace. “I’m sorry.”
He had only a moment to see the pale flash of her cheeks, the curl of her fists, before Luca was in his face, pushing him back further.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, laying hands on her?”
He tried to take a swing, but Jonah intervened, hauling the other man back. “Hold up. I don’t think that’s what’s going on.”
Brax sidestepped them both, keeping his focus on Mia. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have grabbed you. I know better.”
Fuck, he did know better. The sound of her hitching breath had him cursing himself for not remembering. For not being more careful. And shit, what the hell else had happened to her in the years they were apart?
On a growl, Luca jerked away from Jonah, his demeanor softening as he put himself between them, a human shield. His tone was low and soothing. Brax noted he was very careful not to touch her, but something in the stance betrayed some sort of intimacy that had an irrational spark of jealousy flashing through him. It used to be that she’d never have trusted anyone but him like that.
Her shoulders were still jerking with unsteady breaths. Needing to make this right, Brax stepped toward her again, navigating the wall of men who’d crowded close, ready to stop him. Luca spun around, his face thunderous.
“Luca, stand down.” Mia’s voice wasn’t loud, but it rang with authority, nonetheless.
He stopped, his hands fisted, a muscle jumping in his clenched jaw.
She stepped around him, extending a hand toward Brax. He recognized it as both a request for comfort and a message to the rest of her crew that she trusted him. That he wasn’t an abusive asshole, which was probably exactly how he’d come across.
Fuck.
Moving slowly, he curled his hand around hers, pulling her into his arms for the first time in a decade. She wrapped around him, melting into him, and holding tight enough he could feel her shaking. Needing to comfort, he couldn’t stop himself from pressing a kiss to her brow, inhaling the scent of her skin. “I’m sorry. Baby, I’m sorry. I know better.”
She let out a slow, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry, too. Old habits.”
“New training. You’ve picked up some new moves since I taught you.”
“Seemed sensible.” The without you there to protect me was implied.
Brax curled tighter around her, keeping his voice low, as much to hide the tremor in it as to keep from being overheard. “Why do you have a mother-fucking bullet scar?”
She hissed in a breath but said nothing.
“Am I wrong?”
Another interminable heartbeat passed. “No.”
That single, soft syllable punched a hole in his anger.
She’d been shot. Somehow. Some way. And he hadn’t known. Hadn’t been there to stop it. Whatever it was.
And suddenly a thousand other possibilities for why she’d disappeared began unfolding in his mind, along with a montage of all those letters he’d marked returned to sender.
Guilt flooded through him.
“What happened?”
She shook her head, stepping back. “Not here.”
Yeah, okay. Much as he suddenly needed the answers that he’d spent years avoiding, this wasn’t the time or place. Not when they were surrounded by her crew and his friends, and everyone was staring. More than one of the Mountainview guys looked ready to dismember him and dump his body in a shallow grave under a concrete foundation if he so much as breathed wrong. Luca would clearly be leading that charge.
Brax squeezed her hands back. “Later.”
With a jerky nod, she released him.
He immediately missed her touch, but he stayed where he was because he could see her trying to pull herself back together, cobbling back that professional mask.
“Okay, show’s over. Everybody get back to work.”
As the sounds of work slowly started again, he wished he could recover so easily.
Finishing out the workday was a special form of torture. Mia hated what her reaction had betrayed to her crew, hated the looks of concern they’d kept shooting her way, even as she appreciated their willingness to defend. She didn’t want to be seen as weak or broken. She was neither.
But she was preoccupied the rest of the day, stewing in anxiety over what to say to Brax. This was her chance to come clean. To tell him everything. But would the truth put him in danger? How could it when everyone directly involved was now dead? It wasn’t as if he’d go around announcing it to the world.
If he even believed her.
She wasn’t certain he would. Reality was stranger than so much fiction, and she had no idea how he’d react. She didn’t dare hope that it would change anything. Never mind how he’d held her today, as if everything between them wasn’t shattered. It was the first true glimpse she’d had of her Brax since he’d walked back into her life, and she’d wanted to cling to it. To him.
But she’d long ago learned to manage her expectations. The best she could hope for was closure. And maybe, if she was lucky, forgiveness. She’d have to make do with that.
Fresh nerves kindled as he pulled into the driveway behind her. He’d stayed close all afternoon, his protective instincts roused by a threat he didn’t yet understand. That her crew had let him was indication enough that she’d successfully diffused their suspicion that he’d been her abuser. She’d seen that agile mind of his running through a million and one scenarios for how she’d gotten shot. None of the assumptions he’d made about why she’d left would have included that, and the truth was going to be difficult for him to handle.
“Come on in. You’ll have to give me a minute to corral the dog. He’s… enthusiastic.”
“You always wanted a dog.”
It was one of the many things they’d talked about after they’d married. Something they’d have one day, when they could afford to live somewhere that would allow it. A little house all their own and a goofy, sloppy mutt.
“He’s good company.” Mia opened the back door to the leaping joy of her pooch. “Hey, pal. Hey! Who’s my good boy? Whoops. No. Sit. We have a visitor. Show you have some manners.”
Leno barked and leaped in a circle, doing his level best to shove past her to get to Brax where he stood in the doorway.
“Holy shit. That dog has the biggest head I’ve ever seen on a pit bull.”
“Yeah, his ‘Pet me!’ demands are hard to ignore. Leno, sit. Sit!”
The dog lowered his hindquarters almost to the floor, his little stub tail wagging a hundred miles an hour as he fixed glittering eyes on Brax, long pink tongue lolling.
Mia hooked her hand in his collar and motioned Brax forward. “Let him give you a sniff.”
Brax crouched down and offered his knuckles. The dog snuffled and licked his hand, drawing out a reluctant smile even before he lunged forward to kiss Brax in the face. “You’re just a big softie, aren’t you?”
“Total marshmallow. He’s a cuddler.”
“Why Leno?”
She hesitated. But this was hardly the most personal thing she’d be telling him tonight. “Because he made me laugh when I thought I’d never smile again.” Avoiding his eyes, she straightened. “C’mon, bud. Let’s go potty. Outside.”
Abandoning Brax, he bolted for the back door. Mia let him out to do his business in the fenced backyard, leaving the door ajar as she went back to the kitchen.
“You want a drink?”
“No.”
“You might change your mind before the end.”
She retrieved two glasses and popped up on a stool to grab the dusty bottle of Knob Creek from the cabinet over the fridge as Leno bounded back inside. This conversation called for the emergency stash.
“Have a seat. Let me just feed him.”
The dog head-butted Brax’s knees, earning a head scratch before racing for the garage door and nosing at his leash and harness.
“We’re doing things out-of-order tonight. Dinner first. We’ll do that thing later.”
“That thing?”
She glanced at Brax where he leaned in the doorway. “W-A-L-K. I can’t say the word, or he’ll go bananas.”
Once Leno was nose deep in kibble, Mia carried the glasses and booze to the living room. Brax prowled after her but didn’t sit. His whole posture held a ready-for-action tension that spoke of dread. Mia could relate. Cracking the seal, she splashed a generous two fingers into one glass and lowered to the sofa, already exhausted by what was to come.
“There’s so much I should have told you years ago. I want to preface all of this by saying the reasons for my silence weren’t about not trusting you.”
His brows drew together. “Not trusting me with what?”
“I’m getting there. It’s a long story, and I’d ask that you let me get through all of it.”
“Okay.”
It seemed only fitting to go way back to the very beginning. “I’ve never told you anything about my father. I was a daddy’s girl. Only child. A surprise baby that he absolutely delighted in. My earliest memory is of riding his shoulders around town.” She sipped at the bourbon, wondering if it would do anything to warm her inside.
“I was six when my mother left him. It absolutely broke my heart. I cried and cried because I didn’t understand why we didn’t go home to Daddy. She told me he was involved with bad people, and we weren’t safe there. I’ve never been back to New York. That’s where I was born. A little suburb outside the city.”
Aware Brax had heard none of this, she chanced a look in his direction. Arms crossed, he stood wide-legged and stiff, his expression dialed in somewhere between suspicion and confusion, clearly wondering where this was going.
“We moved all over. A month here. Three there. For years. Enough new places that I lost whatever semblance of an accent I had. Until we landed in Texas. Somewhere people like us could more easily blend in. Just two more Latina women in a veritable ocean of them. We stopped running then. I didn’t realize it was because she was sick and couldn’t run anymore. There were no doctors. No treatment. There was no money for any of it. When she realized she was dying, she contacted someone. A U.S. Marshal. I don’t know how she knew Curt. But he came when she called, and she begged him to protect me. Whatever it took. She wanted him to put me into WITSEC.”
Brax dropped his arms, taking two halting steps forward before he stopped himself. “Your mother was trying to put you into witness protection? What the hell was your dad into?”
“That’s the million-dollar question. I don’t know. And because I didn’t know, I had nothing to trade, and there were no grounds for the government to pay to make me disappear. But that didn’t change the fact that I could still be used as leverage against him. There’s more than one way to hide someone, and Curt made her a deathbed promise to see me safe. So, he pulled some strings, got me a new name, a new state, and plugged me into the foster system.”
He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Jesus.”
“From the moment we left New York, I’d been taught the importance of staying hidden. Of not trying to contact anyone from my old life. My mother made me promise before she died. By that point, I’d been hiding half my life. After six years, secrecy was just a way of life. So, I kept my mouth shut, and I sucked it up and dealt. But I kept thinking Daddy would come find me, come rescue me.”
How many nights had she silently cried herself to sleep, wishing and hoping her father would show up and take her away from the hell she’d landed in? More than she could count.
“Except he didn’t.”
“No.” She tried to work up a semblance of a smile. “You did. You made all those years bearable. From that first night in my first foster home, you gave me a new family and made me feel safe for the first time since I was a child. You always made me feel safe.”
His face clouded, his hands flexing and releasing. “I didn’t manage to keep you that way.”
“You showed up when it mattered. You got me out before he could do worse than knock me around.”
This was old territory. She’d never been able to convince him he hadn’t failed in not predicting when her foster father would snap. In the end, he’d saved her. And that had brought them together as more than the friends they’d always been.
“After that assault, I was terrified. That Wayne would get out and find me, but more, that all the attention from the police and the social workers would out me. I was sure Curt was going to pull me out, make me move again.”
“You were still in contact with him?”
“He kept tabs on me. He was there at the courthouse the day we got married. I was all set to fight him, because the last thing I wanted was to leave you, but it turned out he was fully in favor of the marriage. It was another name change. Another layer to keep me hidden. The fact that I loved you was immaterial to him. Either way, I left the courthouse as your wife, and I hoped I’d never see him again.”
“I gather that didn’t happen.”
If only.
This was where the story got harder. “It probably would have if I’d stuck to the rules.” Needing the fortification, she drained the last of her bourbon, wincing at the burn down to her gut. Setting the empty glass on the table, she met his eyes. “My father contacted me a few months before I turned twenty-one.”
Brax stared at her for a long moment before finally sinking into a chair. “Your father.”
“I don’t know how he tracked me down, but he wanted to see me. He told me to come alone, to tell no one. I was so well trained on that front that I didn’t breathe a word to you. I didn’t want to do anything to put you at risk, and I fully expected to be back that night.”
His brows drew together. “You planned to come back, but you took your go bag.” It was an accusation, not a question.
She nodded, knowing how that must have looked to him. “Just in case. Too many years of training and instinct.”
“Where did you go? Not to Spokane or anywhere nearby. I tore that city apart looking for you. Every hospital. Every fucking alley. If you’d been there, I’d have found you.”
Mia’s heart squeezed. She’d never known how he’d reacted in the days immediately after her disappearance. This was what she’d expected from the husband who’d loved her. How much had it taken to break him?
“Seattle. I met him in Seattle. I didn’t plan to go with him, but I needed to see him. Needed to see if he was still the man I remembered. I needed to ask him if whatever he was involved in was worth losing his family.”
“What did he say?”
She swallowed hard, wishing for another drink but making no move to refill her glass. “‘You look so much like your mother.’ That was all he got out before the bullets started flying.” She jerked her shoulders, deliberately minimizing the terror of what came after because Brax had lost all color in his face. “I guess he was followed. I don’t know. I went down. So did he. I heard him stop breathing, and I thought that was the last thing I’d ever hear.”
Because she was starting to shake, she sucked in a few controlled breaths. Leno leapt up onto the couch, wiggling his way under her arm and onto her lap. His warm bulk was a comfort, so she indulged his demands for attention, curling her arms around him.
“I woke up in the hospital three days later. Curt was there. My father was dead. Bled out at the scene. I should have.” Guilt and grief washed through her. She couldn’t get into that piece now. It would serve no purpose. “All I wanted was to go home, but they needed to keep me for longer because of complications from surgery. I knew you had to be losing your mind with worry. Curt wouldn’t let me call you because he had me being treated under yet another name, so I begged him to go tell you what was happening. He said he would.”
Brax shook his head, rocking slightly in his chair. “No one ever came to me. The police never told me anything.”
“I didn’t get out of the hospital for a while, and then I was in protective custody for about six weeks. Before he let me loose, he admitted that he’d made an executive decision to lie to you for your own protection. That he’d outright lied to your face, pretending to be lead detective on the case, and encouraging you to think that I’d left. I was free to start over yet again because, to him, my marriage to you had been nothing more than a means to an end. We fought over it, and I told him exactly what he could do with his questionable protection. But by the time I got home, you were gone.”
He exploded out of the chair, pacing the room like a caged animal. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried. You sent back all my letters. More than a hundred of them.” She’d been furious at that and crushed at his refusal to even give her a chance to explain. But the anger had long since burned out, leaving nothing but exhaustion. “Eventually, enough time passed that I figured you were too angry to ever hear the truth, so I stopped trying.”
His cheeks had gone from pale to practically gray. The muscles in his biceps bulged as he speared both hands through his hair, linking them behind his head. “I thought you left me.” The admission was a choked whisper.
“I know.” She said it with all the gentleness she could muster because she did know. And she knew what it was doing to him to find out he was wrong, when he’d always been her protector. “You acted based on the information you had. I never blamed you for that. I made a choice. The wrong one. And I lost everything.” So much more than he knew.
Tears clogged her throat, threatening to spill over. But she fought them back, needing to get through the last of it. Sensing the rising tension in the room, Leno whined, tucking his enormous head against her shoulder.
“Look, I know this is too little, far too late, but I need you to know that I never stopped loving you. If I’d known what would happen, I’d never have gone. I would never have left you willingly. Whatever else you take away from this, whether or not you believe me about the rest, believe that.”
The last of his stoic mask cracked. Anguish twisted his features as he wrestled with this earthquake to his reality. Mia wanted to go to him, to wrap him in all the love and comfort she still had to give. But that wasn’t who they were to each other anymore.
So, she shifted Leno over and poured another drink instead.
“I have to—I need to—I just have to go.”
“Brax.”
But he was out the door before she could disentangle from the dog.
When his engine cranked, she sank back down, tossing back the drink and letting the tears come at last.