Chapter 11 #2
“Got jumped outside my tent. Woke up a couple of days later in some black ops site. McCormick staring across the table at me. Bastard wasn’t even fazed.
Said he didn’t usually recruit soldiers who hadn’t proven they were battle-worthy.
Warriors. Guys like you. But for me, he’d make an exception.
Put my ‘intelligence-gathering skills’ to good use.
That anyone who could get to him the way I had was worth hiring.
Of course, turning him down wasn’t really an option. ”
Bishop pounded his fist on the table, surging to his feet. “How long did they hold you?”
“About a month. After that… It seemed pointless to keep resisting. They’d systematically erased my life. And I’m not too proud to say becoming a field agent seemed a much better prospect than dying chained to a wall in a country I couldn’t even pronounce.”
Cannon made a strangled groaning sound, pinning her with his gaze. “You didn’t write that letter to Colt, did you?”
A twitch of her lips. That’s all she could muster. “No.”
“Wait.” It was Kameron. Rising to her feet. Skin blanched white. Lips nothing more than a thin line slashed across her face. “Those emails you sent. The texts. That… Oh my god, that wasn’t you?”
Pain. Deep in her chest. Billowing up until Ellis wasn’t sure how she remained on her feet.
Standing there, watching Kameron work her way toward hyperventilating hit Ellis hard.
There was something different about the woman.
Ellis couldn’t place it, but Kam seemed harder.
Rougher. None of her smiles ever truly reaching her eyes.
As if the light Ellis had admired in them had burned out.
Something had happened to Kam. The life-altering kind of bad.
An event Ellis might have been able to help Kam through if she’d still been part of her life.
But Ellis couldn’t alter the past. Erase what McCormick had done the way he’d erased her life.
All she could do, now, was put the walls she’d erected back in place.
The ones Brett had crumbled in the bathroom with one kiss.
She steeled her resolve, focusing on Kameron. “That was McCormick.”
“But…how is that possible? How did he know I’d helped gather that intel with you? That I was the one who had discretely checked the CIA’s database? Assured you Cannon and Priest’s team would be clear? Alone?”
“I—”
“All this time. You didn’t blame me?”
Ellis frowned. “Blame you for what?”
“For nearly getting Colt’s team killed. Getting Crow shot. Christ, the guy had to be revived several times on the way to the hospital. Was out for over a month.”
“Why would I blame you when I was the one who’d given the briefing? Who’d let them all down? All you did was try to help.”
“But, the emails, the texts. You were so angry. Said you never wanted to see me, again, I thought that’s why you transferred. Why…”
Shit. It had been worse than Ellis had imagined. Got her wondering if her boss had kept tabs on Kameron, too. Damn, Ellis hoped he hadn’t, not that it was the time or place to delve into that scenario. “Kameron…”
“Why didn’t you contact me? I would have helped you. Would have done…something to get you out.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. But part of the agreement was staying gone. And honestly, it was safer for everyone if I did just that. If McCormick had discovered I was talking to you, that we were planning a coup… He would have had you killed. I couldn’t risk it.”
“But…” Kam swallowed. Hard. She looked at the others then sank into the chair. Silent. Defeated.
Cannon sighed. “I don’t even know what to say, Ellis. I…” He looked at Jericho. Seemed to draw strength from her smile. The way she placed one of her hands over his. Squeezed. “So, I guess we know everything except why this asshole is after you? Any ideas on that?”
He was switching gears. Speeding away from the past—the mistakes they couldn’t change—and driving headlong into the present.
Into her problem. Which made sense. Men were fixers.
Needed to feel as if they had some kind of control over the outcome.
Which suited Ellis because it hurt staring at them.
Watching them piece it all together. How they’d all just let her fade.
She focused on the question, on everything but the feeling that she’d stepped even farther outside their inner circle. That she’d broken their most sacred bond without giving them a chance to hold true to it by blindsiding them with the truth.
She ran her hands along her pants, but it didn’t help.
Didn’t erase the clammy feeling on her skin, stem the tremors shaking her fingers.
“I wish I knew, but I don’t. They kept asking about guidance systems. Who else knew about them.
Where the evidence was I’d been collecting.
I didn’t understand what they meant. I never discussed my missions with anyone.
I reported only to McCormick, and, unless I was partnered with a SOG team, I worked alone.
I knew enough shit from my own ops to put a target on my back, so I didn’t go looking for more.
Besides, if McCormick wanted me dead, all he had to do was out me on a mission.
I knew it was a risk, and I’d made peace with it. ”
“Not, anymore.” Brett. His voice loud. Harsh. Until then, he hadn’t said a word. Just that one huff. Had sat there watching the entire exchange. Following her every move.
He stood, made his way over to her. “I already told you. No more running. No more hiding. No accepting that he’s won, or sacrificing yourself for the greater good. The man’s a monster. A threat. And he’ll be put down like one.”
“Colt’s right.” Bishop crossed his arms over his massive chest. “All you have to do is trust us.”
She snorted before she realized the kind of impact it would have. How they’d perceive it.
The room fell silent. Not a whisper of breath, a damn rustle of fabric. Nothing. As if she’d stopped time. Held them all suspended.
Then, it rushed back. Harsh pants. Creaking chairs. A restless foot tapping on the floor. The sounds gathered strength, bounced back on themselves until she thought she’d crumble under the strain.
Cannon cleared his throat, and it vanished. Cut off as he met her gaze, his copper eyes narrowed. Lethal.
She cursed, tried to think of something to say, anything to ease the tension. Stop it from suffocating her. “Cannon, I…”
“No, you’re right.” He skipped his gaze among the other men, pausing to look at each set of eyes. “We don’t deserve your trust. We let you down. Left you behind when we’d sworn, we’d never leave a brother behind. Ever.”
Damn, this was getting too serious. Too close to her reliving it all, again.
The pain. The total feeling of abandonment.
It had been years, ago. Surely, she could just let it fade, now that she knew the truth—how it had looked from Brett’s point of view.
“I wasn’t part of your team. You really didn’t owe me anything,”
“Bullshit. You were the woman one my best friends, my damn brother, was planning on spending the rest of his life with. That made you one of us. Just like it makes everyone at this table one of us. You think we didn’t know how serious you two were?
That you’d talked about leaving the service, the Teams?
Starting fresh. Actually having a freaking life?
Maybe that’s why we didn’t question it.” Cannon tapped his chest. “Why I didn’t question it.
Maybe I was so afraid of losing Colt to you, I was willing to sacrifice you in the process.
That you dumping him benefitted me because I got to keep him. ”
He shook his head. “That damn letter never made sense to me. But then, I never really understood women.” He glanced at Jericho.
Smiled. “Still don’t. But we knew it didn’t feel right.
And I’m ashamed to admit that if it had been Colt who’d suddenly vanished with nothing more than a note, we would have scoured the damn Earth to find him.
Gotten to the bottom of it. Instead, we defaulted to what was easy.
What we were good at—shoving it all down. Choosing not to feel.”
He rounded the table, moved in beside Colt.
“I’m sorry, Ellis. You deserved better. But for what it’s worth, we never make the same mistake twice.
And there’s no limit to how far we’ll take this, if you’ll let us.
Give us another chance. We’ll figure it out, or we’ll all die trying because that’s the only way McCormick will get to you. Through us. All of us.”
She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t find her voice. There was no air in the room. Nothing but those copper eyes, Brett’s blue ones, staring at her. Waiting.
Cannon sighed, clapped Brett on the back, then headed back to the table.
All but fell onto the chair. “You don’t have to answer that, now.
You look exhausted. And I can’t imagine that run helped your side, any.
Ice is gonna freak when he gets back with Six if you pass out on him.
We could all use some rest. Pick this up fresh, tomorrow. ”
“Cannon—”
How was she supposed to answer? They weren’t the only ones who’d pushed everything down. Locked it away with the intentions of never opening it, again. To have it all resurface…
She felt raw. As if she’d scraped a knife along her skin. And now, she was left standing there, slowing bleeding out.
Brett moved in front of her—blocked out the rest of the room. His team. His brothers. He stared at her, blue eyes searching, looking slightly undecided before firming his jaw then reaching up and brushing his thumb along her jaw. “Cannon’s right, El. You need to get some rest.”