Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
“How long do you think you’re gonna pout for?” Cash asked from the aisle seat next to me.
I rolled my eyes to the cabin’s ceiling and contemplated murder. “I don’t pout. I’m nursing a grudge.”
Unluckily for me, I was studying the outline of the compartment that hid the oxygen masks, which meant I missed his smile, thus I didn’t know to brace before Cash’s deep, throaty chuckle hit me.
Damn, but I loved his laugh. Unfortunately, he laughed a lot and each time he did, I soaked it up like a junkie. I reminded myself, one day soon I’d lose my fix. This was the last errand I was running for Zane, then I was going home—wherever that was.
Last night I used my secure laptop, one that didn’t use the farmhouse’s internet so Kira Cain couldn’t track my search history, and I looked at properties from California to North Carolina and every state between.
For the first time in my life, I wasn’t looking for a bugout location to hide in.
I was looking for a home. A home with a good school district and low crime rates in a small town somewhere.
A place with a yard. A place that would be safe for Cara to ride her bike.
Something else I needed to do: buy her a bike.
And more clothes and stuff for her room and toys and books.
Yes, she needed lots of books to read. There’d be no internet and TV would be kept to a minimum.
And I needed to find books on parenting—something I should’ve been studying up on instead of flying across the country with Cash.
Yet, there I was, buckled into an airplane seat, preparing to land.
“Not sure what grudge you're holding.” He chuckled. “Your ass is in first class and the attendant just picked up your second empty glass.”
He was correct. We were in first class and I had downed two gin and tonics. This after I slept for the first four hours of the flight. Which was something I never did. Sleeping in public made you vulnerable. Which was another reason I was pissy—screw him for making me feel safe enough to sleep.
“I’m sorry, drink police, were you expecting me to drive from Salt Lake to Wyoming?”
Cash chuckled.
We hit a bit of turbulence and before I could stop myself both hands gripped the armrests—including the extra-wide one between our seats.
Cash’s gaze flicked to my white knuckles.
The glance was maybe a millisecond before his eyes were back on mine, but I knew what I’d given away. Something new to be pissy about.
“I don’t ride shotgun with a woman behind the wheel,” he told me.
I forced myself to relax as the plane did another dip and focused on the absurdity of Cash’s statement.
“What, do you strap yourself to the roof rack when a woman’s driving? For the record, I’m cool with that but if it’s cold and I’m driving, the trunk is also available to you.”
I felt my ears clog with our descent. I watched Cash clench his jaw a second before his Adam’s apple bobbed. The movement shouldn’t’ve been worth noting, a simple thing that most of the passengers right then were doing to clear their ears, yet for some reason I was enthralled.
Maybe because so much of my life was hidden behind subterfuge. Maybe because every movement was measured. Every word guarded. Every feeling masked. I’d lost my humanity. I was a robot. I viewed those around me as pawns. I moved them where I needed with lies and manipulation.
I’d forgotten what it was like to be human.
I’d forgotten normal people didn’t hide their fear of turbulence like it was top secret information.
They didn’t hide the fact they needed to clear their ears when there was a change of altitude like it was a sign of weakness.
Most people slept on airplanes and when they woke, they weren’t mad they did.
And most people would be happy to be offered the window seat and not throw attitude they didn’t have the aisle for strategic reasons.
Yet there I was, holding a grudge because Cash had forced me to sit next to the window. I was pissed at him I’d fallen asleep. I was equally as mad I’d shown the slightest weaknesses. All of this his fault, of course.
Then there was Cash—open and out there while managing to keep his secrets intact. Using humor to hide the pain of his past.
I envied him.
I was an all-or-nothing type of person, and the life I lived meant I gave nothing—absolutely nothing.
I wasn’t like Cash, who gave what he wanted and masked the rest. I didn’t know how to do that.
I wasn’t taught how, and since I wasn’t, I didn’t know how I’d teach Cara good lessons.
Would I ruin her the way my parents ruined me?
Would she grow up feeling like an obligation, cast adrift because she didn’t have an anchor?
Fear rooted in the understanding I didn’t know how to be a good person—forget being a mother, I couldn’t even function as a normal human—settled in my bones. Fear rooted in the knowledge I was not going to be who Cara needed me to be made my soul bleed.
I remembered what it was like being scared and lonely, feeling abandoned.
Yet, months after her parents died I’d left her with her nanny when I should’ve been at home with her holding her while she processed her new circumstances.
I should’ve been at home lying next to her at night while she grieved the loss of her mom and dad.
Yet I was such a shitty person, I was off on an assignment—a job that would earn me a favor.
One that would, one day, once again take me away from her so I could hunt her parents’ killer.
One last mission that wouldn’t be for money but for revenge.
Then I’d be done. Once justice was doled out, my old life would be over.
I’d never again leave her. I’d clean every scraped knee when she took a tumble.
I’d read her bedtime stories. I’d cuddle with her for no reason other than to show her she wasn’t a burden.
I’d learn to be human so I could love her.
I could not ruin her.
I couldn’t.
The thought made my insides twist.
Cash’s hand covering mine on the armrest jolted me from my morose thoughts.
When his face came back into focus, those baby blues were assessing, but worse they were perceptive. He knew I’d been lost in contemplation, he knew it was unpleasant, just as much as I knew I’d given away a hell of a lot.
In a twist I didn’t see coming, he simply jerked his chin toward the window. “We’re at the gate. Grab your shit so we can get this show on the road.”
That was it. No interrogation. No pushing. Not even an acknowledgement he’d seen what he saw.
This didn’t give me relief; it gave me pause.
I scrambled to make sense of the game, anticipate his next move.
Had he filed away me zoning out to use it later?
Unless he could read minds, he’d never guess where my head had gone.
Cara’s existence was buried so deep, no one would ever find her.
Unlike Cash’s childhood, which was easy to access if you knew the right people.
Though, since ten years ago, he’d faked his death—along with Theo, Smith, Easton, and Jonas when they went dark to work with Patheon—Cash’s records were no longer hidden by his last employer.
At one time the CIA had buried his life so deep it would’ve cost me a fortune to uncover it.
The same with the rest of the guys. Luckily for me, dead men didn’t need to be hidden, therefore, it had only cost me a whack to get the intel I needed on them, and not a complete fortune.
I needed the money I had squirreled away.
I had a life to set up, a bike and a swing set to buy, little girl clothes, plus I needed to set up an extra circular budget in case Cara wanted to play sports or learn how to play an instrument or take dance.
In other words, I needed all the money I’d saved since I had no idea what I’d do for work.
I might’ve never lived in the real world with normal people, but even I knew that master manipulator, liar, and assassin were not marketable skills when applying for a job.
My purse landing on my lap once again pulled me back into the present. Wordlessly, Cash reached over, unbuckled my seatbelt, tugged me out of my seat, and had me in the aisle standing in front of him while he dealt with retrieving our backpacks from the overhead compartment.
I didn’t fill the silence. I was too busy seething inside for being so stupid. This lasted until we were walking through the parking lot to the rental car.
“I’ve heard about your driving,” I told him as I hitched the strap of my bag higher on my shoulder. “Just so you know, I might not have any weapons on me but that will not stop me from murdering you if you crash.”
“Don’t believe the lies, baby girl, I’m a good driver.”
Baby girl.
I hated that nickname.
But I would miss it when it was gone.
“Right. Jonas told me you have two modes, dodging IEDs or Grandpa out for a stroll. Today, you’re putting on your tweed cap and argyle socks, and we can even stop to buy you a pair of New Balance sneakers to complete the look. In other words, grandpa.”
“That’s never gonna happen.”
I glanced down at his coyote tan boots before I asked, “What’s not? The New Balance? I’ve heard they have good arch support. Probably be better on your old-man feet than those Lowas.”
“Best day of my life was trading in those old Bates steel toes when I made the teams and got to choose what boots I’d wear.
” Sadly, with the way Cash’s life had been prior to him joining the Navy, I reckoned that was a true statement.
“I drive how I drive and I do it with my Lowas or Salomons or sometimes Foleys on my feet. What I’m not and never will be is someone’s grandpa. ”
Before I thought better of it, my mouth ran away with a comeback I’d fully regret as soon as it passed over my lips.
“You never know. You could have a mini-Cash out there who is of the age to give you grandbabies.”
Shit.
Damn.
Fuck.
I knew before he told me, “Took care of that problem. Thank fuck.”
My intel report on him didn’t include medical history. I’d learned that he’d opted to have a vasectomy at a very young age by hearing him joke about it.
“Don’t like kids?” I probed, like the junkie I was, wanting more from him than I deserved, deepening my regret.
“Other people’s kids are fine, in small doses. As far as me having one, that’s not a hard pass it’s a fuck no.”
I don’t know why I pushed when obviously, he felt that way since like he said, he’d taken care of the problem. Maybe I subconsciously needed to reinforce my already fortified barrier between Cara and the outside world. The reminder that I was to keep Cash out and far away from my girl.
“What about you? You want babies?”
There was the regret.
“Nope,” I answered honestly, but only because I felt obligated to since I’d opened the door for turnabout.
I did not want babies.
What I wanted was for the five-year-old little girl who was now my charge to grow up happy and healthy and be whole when she reached adulthood.
Cash beeped the locks of the black SUV. I shook my head and noted, “So much for blending in.”
“Not sure you got the memo but we’re not going dark to assassinate a foreign leader,” he teased. “We don’t need to blend in. We need four-wheel drive to get us up the mountain to the ranch.”
I’d feel more comfortable if this was a kill mission. That said something about me, and what it said was not loving, caring, nurturing mother-figure. More like a morally bankrupt psycho who shouldn’t be within a hundred yards of a child.
“Are you going to need to blindfold me to keep the location safe?”
I was still a little surprised Zane had sent me with Cash to interrogate—no, to have a civilized conversation—with a Russian translator.
At least that’s what her job had been for the last thirty years.
Why Zane wasn’t using Black Team to get him the intel was beyond me, seeing as they were the ones holding her.
A team I, along with the rest of the world, wasn’t supposed to know existed.
As far as I knew, they’d somehow managed to stay in the shadows.
In all of my dealings with the dregs of society I’d never heard them mentioned.
Neither have they been talked about in any dealings I had with the alphabet agencies in the US government.
I had to admit, I was impressed the team had managed to stay hidden.
“Baby girl, I’m up for blindfolds and ropes if that’s your kink. But I much prefer your active participation when we get down to it.”
Of course he took it there.
I was off my game.
“You didn’t need my participation yesterday,” I reminded him. “You and your hand seemed well-acquainted and quite friendly.”
Cash flashed me a cocky smile.
“If you think my hand in your panties, toying with your clit until I made you come wasn’t you participating, you think wrong.”
“I believe it was my finger that did that.”
His smile turned deliciously lewd.
“Yeah, baby, but it was me who was controlling that finger.”
Controlling.
He was right about that, and to hide how I felt about him dominating that scene, I opened the door, swung my pack off my shoulder, and got into the car. As I was slamming the door, I heard his stupid laugh.
Being the junkie I was, I strained to listen.
By the time Cash was in the driver’s seat I had my pack by my feet and phone out, checking for messages. The phone that only Cara’s nanny had the number to.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I didn’t have any missed calls or texts. I still had a few hours before my daily check-in. The drive to the ranch would take just under two hours. When we got there, I’d find a place to make my call in private.
Twenty minutes later, I learned Cash did indeed drive fast. Unfortunately, he did this safely which meant I didn’t have anything to bitch about. And since I didn’t, I made something up.
“Your music selection is shit,” I faux griped, using it purely as a reason to complain about something with the added benefit of taking over the radio and turning up the volume to a level that wouldn’t broker conversation.
“Don’t much give a shit what we listen to, but no…” he trailed off.
I waited.
When he didn’t finish, I prompted, “No, what?”
Cash took his eyes off the road to glance at me. When he did, he gave me a panty-melting smile. Sadly, I didn’t have his eyes or smile for long before his attention went back to the highway.
“I had a momentary lapse in recall and forgot who I was with,” he started. “Listen to whatever you want, Stella.”
Stella.
I loved the way he said my name. I loved it too much. So, it was a good thing I was ditching the name soon.
Maybe I’d be Agnes next.
Not that it would matter if anyone could make Agnes sound like a sexy purr, it was Cash.
I found a smooth jazz station and cranked up the volume.
Unfortunately, not even the melodic cords of the electric guitar drowned out the sound of his laughter.