Chapter 33
Hew pressed a palm over the red button on the brick wall and watched as the motorized door to the Bat Cave moved along its tracks.
The sound of it, a deep, resonant rumble, always reminded him of the earth grinding its teeth. And with it closed, the bricks fitted together so tightly that the seams in the mortar were impossible to see.
He’d watched the phenomenon dozens of times. Each time, he was amazed at the completeness of the illusion.
Graham and Boss remained in the tunnel with Black Widow. They would handle what came next regarding how, when, and where she would be released.
And thank god for that.
Hew had agreed with Boss that Sabrina deserved a say in the assassin’s fate.
But Christ on a snowmobile!
It’d been torture watching her struggle with the choice.
If she’d agreed to pull the trigger, she’d have been haunted. If she’d decided to imprison the Widow illegally, she’d have been haunted. And letting the woman walk? Well, that might still haunt her, depending on how things played out but—
“So?” Becky’s voice cut through his thoughts. “What’s the verdict?”
Dum-Dums stuck out of the bib pocket on her pink coveralls. And the look on her face was…
A little more than concerned.
She tried to cover her anxiety by nonchalantly tucking her blond bob behind her ears. But she wasn’t fooling anyone. Her fingers shook.
She wasn’t scared. Not in the traditional sense. She simply didn’t want her husband back in the killing game.
And, really, who can blame her?
“We’re letting her go,” Sabrina said with a staunch dip of her chin.
Becky’s shoulders slumped like someone had stuck a pin in her, letting out all her air.
“And we’re hoping that choice doesn’t come back to bite us on the ass,” Sabrina added, her mouth twisting with distaste.
“If it does, we’ll deal with it. I’ve got a salve that usually works.” Becky winked.
Sabrina laughed, and Hew wanted to hug Becky for adding levity to such a tense situation.
“Now.” Becky slung an arm around Sabrina’s shoulders, steering her toward the stairs.
“Couple of things for you. One, the Wisconsin highway patrol called. They’ve towed your car.
I wrote down all the info on a sticky note and stuck it to your bedroom door.
They say you can come get it whenever you’re ready or call to have it sent to a mechanic. ”
Sabrina wrinkled her nose. “I hope it isn’t totaled. I haven’t even changed the oil in it yet.”
“Mmm.” Becky nodded in commiseration. “I once had a client total a bike within ten minutes of taking it for its maiden ride. He got sideswiped by a taxi and lived to tell the tale. But the chopper?” She shook her head sorrowfully. “I actually cried when he called to tell me.”
“All that hard work straight down the drain.” Sabrina shook her head sympathetically before prompting, “And that second thing?”
“Martin called.” Becky smiled broadly. “Said he’ll be out front in fifteen minutes.”
Sabrina skidded to a stop at the same time Hew’s heart quit beating.
“My god!” Her hand shot to her messy bun. The one he’d watched fall down around her shoulders before he’d undressed her. The same one she’d retied atop her head before meeting Graham in the War Room. “I forgot about Martin. Again! I’m such an asshole!”
Hearing the man’s name in her mouth made Hew’s chest feel hollow, like someone had carved him open with a dull spoon.
Becky, oblivious to the change in circumstances, smiled at Sabrina. “You have just enough time to wash your face, brush your teeth, and comb your hair. Better hop to.”
Sabrina turned to Hew, her expression caught somewhere between guilty and apologetic. “I made plans with him this morning before—”
She stopped and swallowed, cast a furtive glance at Becky, who was all ears.
What? She didn’t want Becky to know what had transpired upstairs? Why not?
“Before what?” Becky blinked between them.
“Never mind.” Sabrina waved her off, and Hew slowly curled his hands into fists.
Becky narrowed her eyes. “Curiouser and curiouser.” Then she shrugged. “Back to the grind for me, though. Literally. I have a new gas tank to shape.”
Hew didn’t move until Becky disappeared behind a rack holding parts and tools. Then he turned, slowly, feeling like his bones were made of concrete, to find Sabrina watching him closely.
“Sorry.” She twisted her fingers together, her expression stricken.
“For what?” He forced mortar through his veins, hoping it would harden his resolve and shore up his walls. “No one would blame ya for keepin’ the plans you made first. Least of all, me.”
“So you’re…okay with this? With me going to meet Martin?” Was that hope in her tone? Or worse…anticipation?
He huffed out a dry laugh. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Her dark eyebrows pulled together over her perfect nose. “I know we planned to put those condoms to use, but—”
“But now you’ve gone and proved ya can be with a man without fallin’ to pieces,” he cut her off. His desperation had gotten tangled up with his jealousy and uncertainty until he couldn’t tell which part was eating him alive. “So, mission accomplished, ayuh?”
She didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Simply stared at him. Seeking. Searching. Wanting. Needing something from him.
But what?
His permission? His absolution? His endorsement?
Was she waiting to see if he could keep his promise to remain friends? To ensure nothing changed between them?
But everything had changed. He had changed.
There was the Hewitt Birch who had existed before he made love to Sabrina Greenlee. And there was the Hewitt Birch who existed now.
He could tell her. Admit his feelings. But one of the first lessons he’d learned in life was that vulnerability equaled hurt.
And Sabrina? She had the ability to slice him clean to the bone.
“I mean, we did what…we did”—he waved a vague hand in the general direction of the upstairs—“because ya wanted to test the waters, right? Because, as you put it, who better than your good friend Hew to see ya through your first time since Torres? I don’t think it’s premature to say ya passed with flyin’ colors. ”
He winked at her.
He wanted to kick his own ass the instant he did it.
Fuck!
“Right,” she said slowly. “Right,” she said again and firmed her chin. “So, I’ll go get ready?”
“Is that a question or a statement?”
Her jaw sawed side to side as she firmed her shoulders. “I’ll go get ready.”
“Sounds like a plan.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets so she wouldn’t see his fingers clenching.
She hesitated another beat. Searching his face. Searching his eyes.
But he’d donned the mask he’d gotten good at wearing back when he was just a kid. In all the years since, it’d become impenetrable.
“Right,” she said for the third time before slowly heading for the stairs. He watched her walk away. Waited for her to turn back.
She never did. And when she jogged up the treads, her footsteps pounded out a rhythm that sounded…final?
He had the sudden, nearly overwhelming, urge to chase her. To catch her up and pull her close. To tell her to forget Martin and—
He could still feel her, damnit! Under his hands. Under his skin. The touch of her fingertips. The taste of her mouth. The way she’d cried out his name like it had been pulled straight from her heart.
He ran a hand over his head like he could scrape out the memory of her and all they’d shared.
But she wasn’t going anywhere.
Except for out with Martin.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!