10. Ten
10
TEN
ELIANA RICHARDS
CIA Headquarter, July 2022
“ I t’s a small operation to check an abandoned facility that was used by local clans until last month. You two will report to Jakob and the drug trafficking task force. If I get any news about you two fighting the entire time, there will be consequences. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Peter and I answered simultaneously, exchanging annoying gazes. Things were not getting better between us, but I thought we would have kept our fights as hidden as possible to not concern McGreen too much.
Turns out, he knew exactly what was going on and he was observing us closely. I couldn’t lose this job. I was fighting so hard to get it and I will not disappoint my father in getting fired just because I wasn’t able to manage my emotions. Peter Davis was crawling under my skin, but I needed to learn to ignore it. I belonged here, right in this task force. And I won’t let him destroy that one chance that I earned.
We arrived at our destination a couple of minutes ago and Jakob, who was the leader of the drug trafficking task force, assigned us into pairs. I knew that McGreen had given him instructions, because he wanted us to have this bonding experience. Not exactly the bonding I was looking for, but okay. Every pair got a designated building to check on the long and winding facility. Local clans had used it to store drugs and run their business, but they left the area a week ago, very surprisingly. Jakob and his task force needed answers why that happened, and maybe the urgency of their quick departure would make us find some documents or other stuff to confess.
Next to the CIA, the Drug Enforcement Administration, or DEA for short, because nobody has time to say the whole name every damn time, had sent some employees as well to participate in that mission. Thankfully, Jakob took care of them as I didn’t have the patience to babysit one of them in case we would still find some clan members in the area. Even though that was very unlikely, the first thing you learn at the CIA is that nothing is impossible.
Even an abandoned facility can be home to our enemies. Maybe we’d find some deserters who stayed after the others fled. You never know.
I wasn’t sure what combat training the DEA people went through, so I was happy we didn’t need to be responsible for their lives, as well.
Peter and I entered the office building shoulder to shoulder, neither of us willing to fall back and let the other lead. I expected it to be like this, but I didn’t want him to think he’s superior, because he damn hell wasn’t.
“I've been in this task force longer than you, I think I should be in command on that mission, don’t you think?”
Over the last couple of weeks, we were getting along better and better, and he was only annoying the living hell out of me once a day. Which was huge progress. So it was okay, and to be expected, that he would ruin that progress sooner or later. I just didn’t expect it to happen on our first mission together.
“You’re water and I’m oil, Peter. I’m always above you.”
“Don’t confuse reality with your dream world.”
That statement let me only huff in response. I checked around the next corner for enemies, and when the hallway was clear, I mumbled a, “Can’t wait for this mission to be over so I don’t have to see your face for the rest of the day,” which I thought he hadn’t heard. But apparently he had, because I heard his voice from behind me .
“You forget that oil can’t get rid of water once they’re in the same jar.”
“It can if it gets hot enough and the water dissolves into thin air. Same as the content of your head, I assume.”
“That’s not how physics works, Eli. But I can get your ass fired if that’s what you’re asking for.”
I saw him suppressing a smirk when he tried not to celebrate his absolutely bad joke too much. Peter had many attributes, but humor wasn’t one of them.
Deciding that stubbornness wouldn’t bring me anywhere in this situation, I gave in and let him take the lead.
For now.
The mental note was already taken that I would prove myself in the next weeks so that McGreen would put me into lead for the next mission.
The office building was at the other end of the area and least likely to have enemies or evidence in it. When the clans needed to enter and leave the area unseen, they’d go for facilities near the attached paths. At least that was what I would do, if I’d be in their shoes. Doing illegal stuff was risky enough, so you needed to make sure to be able to flee quickly and undetected if necessary. The risk of being cornered in this area was too high with the buildings in the back.
Another thing that made me believe this whole mission was only to make sure Peter and I learn to work together.
Damn you, McGreen .
We were currently walking up a staircase that hasn’t been entered in many years. The spiderwebs on the walls and the dust on the concrete beneath us were the best evidence for that. Still, we followed our orders and checked every single floor.
“Be careful, there is a lot of loose concrete on the steps.” I heard Peter’s voice from above me.
“I thought you would throw a celebration party if I fell down the stairs and broke my neck. At least you would get rid of me without doing anything illegal then.”
He was right, though, the edges of the concrete steps were breaking off easily. I had to make sure to place every step as safely and purposely as possible. There was no way I would stumble over this and give him a reason to laugh about me.
“I would need to get your body back to the car and I’m not really anticipating carrying your fat ass across the entire facility,” he groaned, the steps of his combat boots echoing through the deserted staircase.
My sharp breath let him spin around within a second and he was welcomed by knit eyebrows and anger shining in my eyes.
“Did you just call me fat?”
“It’s…It’s a saying, isn’t it? I didn’t particularly mean to insult you.”
He dared to look at me with apologizing emerald eyes, knowing exactly that this would work with every other woman. His fucking face was too handsome to be angry for a longer time, but no other woman was feeling the rage that I felt.
Growing up in an environment where you’re never good enough and you’re never worth any time or effort from the people around you, I’m used to people underestimating me. I’m used to people rolling their eyes or huffing at me. I could live with that. But I would not accept someone insulting me. Not happening. I had to accept this long enough from Dad.
He took another step in my direction, now being only one step above me, but still hovering above me like a giant with his fucking 6’1” body.
My outstretched finger poked into the black fabric of his bulletproof vest with an intensity that surprised us both. His eyes widened slightly when he realized that his answer only fueled the anger rushing through my veins.
“You. Will. Never. Insult. Me. Again. Understood?” Every one of my words was emphasized by a poke of my finger into his chest, although he might not even feel it because of the protective vest. But it made my point very clear.
“Understood. I’m sorry,” he almost whispered, and it bothered me to see that he really meant it. I wanted to be angry. I wanted to lash at him, scream at him. After all these years he deserved this, and deep in my heart, I knew that screaming at him would solve a lot of unsolved emotions. But instead of raising my voice, I whispered as well .
“I bet you are. You did everything you can to make my life miserable.”
“Eliana…” he started, but I didn’t give him a chance to see the tears of frustration in my eyes as I turned my head around. I wanted to run away, as far as possible from this man, but I couldn’t because he was my partner.
He stood for the hardest time of my life and seeing him every day was karma’s way of telling me that I must be a horrible person. Because why else would I deserve this? Deserve to live in the room opposite of the reason I got screamed at and hit at home more than a teenager would ever be able to mentally digest.
At home.
The place that was supposed to be my safe place. But thanks to Peter Davis, and his determination to be year’s best, and getting the scholarship that he and his ridiculously rich family didn’t need. They would have been able to pay him every education he wanted without relinquishing their two big family vacations every year.
“Eliana,” he tried again, grabbing my hand that was still pointing towards him. I withdrew it immediately, finally raising my head again to look him in the eyes.
Those fucking beautiful, emerald eyes.
His gaze was soft, apologetic, almost understanding, but without pity. If my heart wasn’t trapped behind a cage of decades of anger, I would have considered that this would be an honest and vulnerable moment between us .
I was so lost in his eyes that I didn’t even realize that he dropped his hand and grabbed mine again, holding them both in between our bodies. We were closer than I could ever remember because I could feel his warm breath on my sweaty skin. His large hand was engulfing mine almost completely and I felt his calloused skin from endless hours of pushing and pulling irons around in the gym. But still his touch was soft, his thumb circling over the palm of my hand with featherlight brushes.
We stared into each other’s eyes without blinking, like we did the day I joined the CIA. But this time, it wasn’t a staring battle for dominance. This wasn’t a battle to select a winner and a loser. This was us sharing a moment together as two young adults who knew each other for half of their lives. Who are both driven by the goal to be the best of the best, who gave up everything to reach that goal, and who worked hard for it every second of every single day.
We had more in common that I liked to confess.
But that wasn’t strong enough to let me forget the bruises on my skin from my father’s beatings or the emotional damage in my mind that no therapist in the world would be able to heal.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you. I was just annoyed by your comment, but didn’t think it through. I shouldn’t have said that. Sorry that I hurt your feelings.”
His voice was soft before his lips curled into a tiny, assuring smile. It was the peace offer I didn’t know I wanted, but took at this moment because the operation was important and McGreen was already skeptical if he chose the right people for the team. Didn’t want to fuel his doubts.
“It’s okay. But don’t do it again.” I blinked several times, trying to get rid of the tears that were gathering along my water line. Apparently, I failed as one single tear broke out of formation and made its way down my cheek. Peter moved quickly, cradling his one hand that was not holding mine before around my face to catch the tear with his thumb.
It was like the world around us was frozen while we looked into each other’s eyes and his thumb rested on my cheekbone. My skin was prickling at the places his fingers met my jawline and cheek, and heat rose all the way from my belly, up my spine, and into my head. This tender touch left me lightheaded, my heartbeat increased drastically, and I had the strong urge to rip the bulletproof vest off my body because it was too hot.
In every romance book, this would be the moment the protagonists kiss each other.
But my life is far away from a romance book.
The sensation of hurt radiated from my body, crawled through my limbs and up to my brain, overpowering the unusual sensation I felt before, so I broke the gaze between us. His hand fell off my cheek and to his side in a movement that would have looked very dramatic in slow motion.
But I didn’t care, I couldn’t.
I couldn’t look him in the eyes and see the disappointment and hurt because I broke the moment between us. This could have been the turning point in our relationship.
But I broke it because I was not able to forget my past, the trauma, the pain. I just couldn’t.
He cleared his throat, signaling me that we had to continue with the mission, but my heart and mind were both racing, so instead of waiting for what he had to say, I pushed past him to head to the next floor and search for any evidence of criminal activities. Because that’s what we were here for.
Pressing my body in between him and the wall, I didn’t have the chance to do purposeful steps anymore, as my mind was screaming at me to get as much distance between Peter Davis and me. He did something to me a few seconds ago and my heart and mind were not aligned if I liked it.
Suddenly, the cement under my left foot gave away when the edge of the step broke off. Everything happened so fast, but in slow-motion at the same time. As if I was watching myself fall down this staircase. I wasn’t able to find footing again as my left ankle rolled, shooting a stabbing pain up my leg and a gasp left my mouth. My hands tried to clench to anything in reach, but the wall to my side didn’t give me a chance to save myself and the handle on the other side was too far away. I gave in to the inevitable, pressing my chin to my chest in a last attempt to at least protect my cervical spine from the impact. I tumbled down five, maybe six, steps—who counts, anyway—and when my head hit the hard floor, darkness consumed me with a relieving wave.
Unfortunately, relief didn’t last long, as a dull pulse in my head made me regain consciousness. I had no idea how much time had passed, for me it felt like nothing. As if I just blinked once and I was back in the land of living.
I felt my heart galloping, clear evidence of the shock I apparently was still in, and for once, I was thankful for that shock. Because shock meant there was no pain, and despite the small pounding in my head, that was true.
Slowly, my eyes opened just to be met with a very blurry face of a blond man with emerald eyes.
Great.
Peter Davis had seen me falling down the stairs although he explicitly warned me to be careful. He would make fun of me for the rest of my life because of that. God dammit.
But there was no amusement in his eyes, nor annoyance like there normally was when we were in the same room. There was something else in them, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Maybe if my head wouldn’t hurt so much, I would be able to think properly. Great, the pain returned.
“Eliana?”
He was right above me, but his voice sounded miles away.
I think I might have a concussion…
“I think so, too,” he answered and I tried to knit my eyebrows together in confusion, but the sheer attempt made the pain in my head worse, so I only groaned and closed my eyes.
Only for a second.
“No. No. No. You gotta stay awake on me, Richards. Come on, open your beautiful eyes for me.”
The last part of his sentence made my eyes fly open at high speed. Did Peter Davis just call my eyes beautiful?
Yeah.
I really have a concussion, because that sounds like a very bad dream.
“There you are. Can you tell me what hurts?”
No. No I can’t. Everything feels weird.
“That’s okay. Don’t move, I’ll contact Jakob and ask for back-up so we can get you back to headquarters and to Lynn.”
How the hell can he answer to what’s going on in my head? Oh my God, can he read minds? Is he some sort of supernatural human, a military experiment? Is that why he’s never been a SEAL?
“Calm down, I’m not a military experiment. You’re saying that all out loud, Eliana.”
I blinked once. Twice. Thrice.
“You have a concussion for sure, Eli. Just stay calm, don’t move, and I’ll call for back-up.”
Eli.
He called me like Mihaela did my entire life. He’s heard it hundreds of times during high school or when she visited me in first year at the farm .
My mind was stuck with the fact that I liked the way he called me by my nickname, that it took me a few moments to realize what he was about to do. He had risen from his kneeling position above me and was reaching for his headset to call for Jakob.
“No. Don’t!” I screamed at him, sitting up from the floor, but had to close my eyes as the world started to spin around me.
Peter turned his head towards me, looking at me with the same look I saw before. I finally realized that concern was the emotion I couldn’t read and have never seen in his eyes before.
“What?”
“Don’t call Jakob. I’m fine, just give me a few seconds, okay?”
“Eliana…” he started, but stopped when he saw the look on my face. I had no control over most parts of my body, so I had no idea how I was looking at him, but apparently it worked. That was all I needed to know.
“I’m fine!”
This time, I fully managed to sit up, holding my weight on wobbly arms when he kneeled down next to me again.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
And thankfully, the dizziness became better with every second, even though the dull pulse in my temples stayed the same. Other than that, I started to feel pain in my left ankle, remembering the moment I rolled it and the snapping I felt and heard. That one was definitely sprained. Wonderful, that means I’d be placed on the sideline for a while.
McGreen would be disappointed.
“Can you stand?” His voice was dripping with empathy and concern, which was a side of Peter Davis that I still didn’t know how to handle.
“I can try,” I grunted while trying to get back on my feet. Peter reached out his hand towards me and I grabbed it with a, “Thank you,” on my lips before he basically pulled me to my feet. His bicep tensed underneath his black t-shirt and I’m ashamed that I even recognized it. He was supposed to be my nemesis. I couldn’t watch his muscular body and feel anything other than hatred. It was not supposed to be like that.
When I shifted my stand a little to put weight on the sprained ankle, agonizing pain shot all the way through my shin, knee, and up to my femur. As if the entire leg was hit by lightning.
“Shit,” I hissed and Peter immediately wrapped his arm around my waist to stabilize me in case I would collapse on him again.
“What’s wrong? Are you dizzy?”
“No. It’s my foot. I rolled it before the fall.”
Peter’s eyes wandered down my body and towards my combat boot. A boot that was specifically designed to prevent rolled ankles, as the dark leather was engulfing my foot all the way up into my lower leg. How the hell would I explain to Dr. Summers that I managed to roll my ankle even with the securing boots around my feet?
I bet Peter thought the same, because he was silent for a moment too long, but then grabbed my arm and wrapped it around his shoulder so that I’d use him as a human crutch.
He didn’t even ask if he should help me, he just did it.
“I need to contact Jakob so that we can get picked up right outside of the building and you don’t have to walk all the way back through the area.”
“It’s okay. I can probably walk it off, anyway. It’s just a sprained ankle. Had this multiple times before.” I waved him off when we started our agonizing slow march down the staircase to get out of the building.
“McGreen will kill me,” I mumbled more to myself, trying to distract myself from the pain that became worse with every step. Maybe this wasn’t a walk-it-off situation and the foot was more hurt than I thought. But I would rather get fired than let Peter carry me out of this building like a princess in need. I’m not Peach and he’s not Super Mario. I can defend myself.
“He won’t. It was an accident,” Peter responded and I felt him shift a little under my arm. He was bearing most of my weight right now, especially when I did the step with the injured leg.
“I expected the whole I told you so speech from you.” My head turned towards him to shoot him a shy smile, showing that this was a joke. Things between us were so undeveloped, based on not communicating and lingering anger over decades, that I was scared he would be offended by something that was supposed to come out funny.
Peter smiled back at me with an intensity that crow’s feet appeared next to his eyes.
“No worries, I was about to give you the speech as soon as we made it back to headquarters and Lynn tells me you’re not going to die from a brain bleed.”
A loud chuckle left my throat as response to his words. I never realized that he can be funny because I never gave myself a chance to get to know this side of him. We’ve been rivals as long as I can think. I never saw the funny Peter.
“I’d deserve it.”
Peter stopped in his tracks, catching me off guard so that I put way more weight on the hurt ankle that I’d liked to. I groaned in pain but turned my head towards Peter, who’s facial expression looked like he had seen a ghost. Panicked, I looked around us, expecting enemies ready to shoot and kill us, but there was no one. Why was he looking like this?
“What’s wrong, Peter?”
“Did Eliana Richards just admit that I was right? I think your head is more hurt than I thought. I should probably call an ambulance right away.”
All I could do was roll my eyes at him, but I couldn’t hide the small curl of my lips into a hint of a smile.
“Don’t get used to it,” I shot back and we continued our way through the first floor and towards the entrance .
“I won’t.”
“Good.”
We walked along the long hallway in silence, but I felt that he wanted to say something else. His gaze shifted over to me a few times and he even cleared his throat. But something held him back, and as I was so focused on not collapsing because of the constant pain I was in, I didn’t ask. Not gonna lie, that ankle really was a problem.
“You should crack jokes more often. I like the funny Eliana,” he whispered shyly. I turned my head towards him immediately and he was already awaiting me. A small smile danced around his lips and his entire features had something so soft to them that I’d never seen before.
“Crazy, because I had just thought the same. Or did I say that out loud again?”
“Not this time, Eli.” He snickered and my heart skipped a beat when he used my nickname again. A week ago, it would have made me furious because I’d thought he just did it to provoke me. And maybe it’s the pain or the concussion, but right now, I liked it.
Our conversation was interrupted by other agents walking towards us, and as soon as they reached me, they grabbed both of my arms and wrapped them around their own shoulders, helping me to stay off the injured ankle completely for the rest of the hallway.
Jakob passed us and I saw him scanning over my body with quick gazes, furrowing his brows when he saw that I didn’t put any weight on my foot. But he didn’t stop, directly marching towards Peter for an explanation.
His voice echoed through the empty hallway, but all I could make out were the words “fell down the stairs” and “accident”. Now that safety was near and I only had to make it to the car outside of the door, I let myself relax for the first time since falling down the stairs.
And deep in my heart, a little warmth started to spread while thinking that Peter had helped me out of this without making me uncomfortable. He had been nothing but supportive, lightened my mood, and averted my train of thoughts away from my injury.
Maybe Peter Davis wasn’t that much of a bad person.