Chapter 11 #3
Gillian didn’t even have the energy to put her arms around him in return. She just stood in his embrace with her arms hanging limply by her sides and closed her eyes.
Walker had her. He’d make sure she got home. She didn’t have to think about anything but how good he smelled and how thankful she was that he was there.
Trigger wanted to know what the fuck happened behind that closed conference room door more than he wanted his next breath.
His woman was fucking exhausted and almost catatonic.
He should’ve tried harder to be allowed in there with her.
He would’ve made sure the two investigators didn’t push her too hard.
“What’d you do?” he growled as Gary and Calum exited the room.
They both looked surprised at the venom in his tone. They looked from him to Gillian then back.
“She did good,” Gary said quietly. “Much better than we’d expected.”
“We might’ve gone on a little longer than we did with the others, but she had a lot of really useful information,” Calum told him.
Again, Trigger mentally kicked himself for not at least forcing them to take a break. Gillian had been in with them for over five hours. She’d missed lunch and had obviously been pushed too far.
Wanting to lambast the investigators, but knowing that would delay getting Gillian home, he turned his back on the two men and leaned down to the exhausted woman in his arms. She was strong as fuck, but even superheroes had their breaking points.
“Ready to go home?” he asked gently.
She nodded against his chest.
“You want me to carry you?”
She shook her head but didn’t move.
Trigger couldn’t help but smile. He didn’t rush her, simply waited for her to gather enough strength to walk out of the building by his side. Within a minute, he felt her take a big breath and pull away from him.
He didn’t let her go far, keeping his arm around her waist. She leaned heavily on him and he felt her finger hook into one of the belt loops of his jeans. He wanted to ask her what happened, what was said, but knew that was the last thing she needed. Right now she needed food, and to feel safe.
Gillian didn’t need his protection because she was weak.
She was far from it. But he needed to give it to her because she was important to him.
Over the last month, he’d found himself thinking about her almost every minute of the day.
She’d quickly become one of the most important people in his life.
And he’d be damned if he did anything to harm her in any way.
He got her to his Blazer and helped her get buckled in.
She closed her eyes and rested her head on the back of the seat, exhaustion easy to read in her body language.
Before starting the car, Trigger took the time to order food for them from a diner near her apartment.
He stopped to pick it up before heading to her place.
She didn’t even ask what he’d ordered or what he was doing, she was that tired.
The second they entered her apartment, she turned to him. “I’m going to go lie down…is that all right?”
He hated seeing her like this. “You don’t have to ask my permission to lie down in your own apartment, Gilly. Go on. I’ll be in soon with some lunch.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I know, but you need to eat.”
For a second, she looked like she was going to argue with him, but in the end, she just nodded and headed down the hall. He hated how her shoulders were slumped and she looked as if she’d just gone ten rounds in a boxing ring.
He gave her twenty minutes—the longest twenty minutes of his life—before following her. He had a bowl of her favorite chicken fajita soup and two of the breadsticks she always raved about. They were soft and buttery, and would give her a needed boost of energy.
She was lying on her side on her bed with her back to the door. Trigger put the food down and sat on the edge of the mattress. He put one hand on her thigh and waited for her to acknowledge him. He knew she was awake because she’d stiffened when he’d sat down so she wouldn’t roll into him.
With the patience he’d learned in his Delta training, Trigger waited. Finally, she rolled over and stared up at him.
“You all right?” he asked softly.
She nodded. “Yeah. I just…it was a lot.”
“I’m sorry, Di. I should’ve been there with you.”
“You weren’t allowed. It’s okay.”
Trigger shook his head. “It’s not okay. If I was there, I could’ve made them let you take some breaks. Warned them when they were pushing too hard—and don’t deny it. They pushed you hard.”
She gave him a small nod. “But they needed to. If they’re going to catch this guy, they need to know—”
“Uh-uh,” he said with a shake of his head. “If they’re going to catch this guy, then they need to investigate…not push innocent women past their breaking points for information that won’t make a lick of difference.”
Gillian stared up at him. “So you’re saying you think what I told them was pointless?”
“No, not at all,” Trigger said firmly. “I know your interview gave them a more well-rounded idea of each and every passenger. You’re observant and smart; whatever you told them was absolutely useful.
But there was no point in pushing you until you were practically comatose to get it.
I’m sure they already have their suspicions about who the seventh hijacker is.
They were just using interrogation tricks to see what they could get out of you. ”
Gillian closed her eyes. “I wish you were there too,” she said. Her eyes opened. “But it’s done.”
“If you want to talk about it, I’m here,” Trigger told her.
“Thanks,” she whispered. “I mean, I’ve already told you most of what I told them. I just don’t like thinking that someone I thought I’d shared this awful experience with might be in on the whole thing. It makes me sick.”
“Come on. Sit up and eat something. It’ll make you feel better. Then we can watch TV together the rest of the afternoon. I’ll run you a bath tonight and by morning, you’ll feel like yourself again.”
Gillian smiled at him and scooted up until her back was against the headboard. While she started in on her lunch, Trigger went back out to the other room to get her the present he’d found for her that week.
He held the small box in his hand as he sat back down.
“What’s that?”
“Open it and see,” he said. “I saw it and thought of you.”
Trigger loved seeing the spark of life in her eyes. He hated seeing her so beaten down, and if a little gift was enough to make her smile, he’d make it his goal in life to buy her a million tchotchkes to make that smile permanent.
She opened the box and pulled out the mug that was inside. Grinning, she said, “I like it.”
“Told you it reminded me of you,” Trigger said. The blue mug had pictures of a cartoon Wonder Woman all over it. She was leaping, running, using her bracelets to deflect bullets, and generally being kick-ass.
“I’m not feeling very Wonder-Woman-like at the moment,” she admitted.
“You’ll get there,” Trigger said without hesitation. “You’re human. You’re allowed to feel how you feel. You’re still one of the strongest people I know.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Now, hurry up and finish so we can go out and watch Luther.”
“You’re addicted to that show,” she said while chuckling.
“And you aren’t?” he asked.
She merely grinned.
Hours later, Gillian already felt more like herself.
Lunch had done wonders to elevate her mood, then sitting on the couch being lazy with Walker for the rest of the day had finished the job.
Yeah, she’d had a hard morning, mentally, but it was over and done with, and she needed to pull her head out of her ass and get on with her life.
It was Thursday, and Walker was spending the night, and Gillian was determined to have him sleep in the bed with her.
In all the nights they’d slept together—slept-slept, nothing more—they’d always done it on a couch, his or hers.
He’d never moved them to a bedroom. And while Gillian loved waking up in his arms, she wanted to do so in her bed.
After they’d made spaghetti for dinner, laughing throughout the preparation, and before watching more episodes of Luther, she’d changed into her sleep shorts and top.
It was the first time she’d actually put on a pair of pajamas before snuggling with Walker on the couch.
Oh, she’d worn leggings, and a T-shirt without a bra, but this was different.
The sleep shorts were short, and the top was sleeveless.
She felt sexy in the outfit and wanted nothing more than to entice Walker into giving her a few kisses and hold her all night.
He looked like he’d swallowed something sour when she’d come back into the living area after changing, which wasn’t exactly encouraging.
And when he hadn’t immediately pulled her into his side after she sat down, Gillian began to worry that she’d messed up somehow.
After he’d been so attentive and concerned about her earlier, she’d thought for sure this was the perfect time to move their relationship forward.
But now Walker sat stiffly on the other end of the couch watching the television screen as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world. It was disheartening.
Wanting to be the brave, kick-ass woman he’d nicknamed her after, Gillian decided to go for what she wanted.
“Walker?”
“Hmmm?” he asked, not looking at her.
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah, why?”
At least he’d turned to look at her. “Because ever since I changed, you’ve been avoiding looking at me as if you’ll get the plague if you even glance over here.”
He sighed. “It’s not you.”
Oh, shit, she didn’t like the sound of that. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve had a hard day…maybe you should turn in early.”
Gillian could only stare at Walker in disbelief. Had he really said that?
Yeah, he had.
So much for her feeling good about herself and confident in the relationship they’d been building.