Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
ELLIOT KEPT HIS RISING temper in check throughout their escape. A seething mass of fear and fury curled in his gut like a fist clenching on the long drive to the abandoned farm where they would recuperate, replenishing the energy stores they required to covertly cross the line to safety.
He might not have Warren’s skill at reading emotions, but he felt Warren watching him, waiting for the inevitable explosion. And it was inevitable. Somehow that made him burn hotter. He despised losing control of his anger like this.
His thoughts returned again and again to the moment he walked into that laboratory and saw a Luger to Warren’s head and heard the German bastard threaten him .
If I’d been moments later…
If Warren had done something foolhardy…
If he hadn’t the energy to hide my approach…
None of it should have occurred. Warren should never have let himself be seen. His skill was supposed to keep him safe, for Christ’s sake.
The fact he hadn’t been able to protect himself was evidence of exactly what Elliot suspected: he wasn’t sleeping enough to be in top form magically or physically.
If he kept on the way he was, he would wind up dead for it.
Elliot’s mind recoiled from the possibility.
His chest burned and tightened, and he clenched his fists on the wheel until his knuckles ached with the strain.
They abandoned the cars to the rear of the farm, where their contact would pick them up again tomorrow. Faster vehicles, more suited to avoiding daytime notice would be used to get closer to the front.
Behind Elliot, Charbonneau carried Emilienne, the little girl Warren almost lost his life for.
As they crunched over crisp, frosted grass he spoke quietly to her.
Once, Elliot was certain he heard a tiny giggle.
He wasn’t surprised to find Charbonneau was good with children.
He had two young girls, currently residing with his sister and her husband until he returned.
It was one of the reasons he’d been so unforgivably slow regarding the depth of his relationship with Ollie.
He was a widower though, and Elliot knew intimately that some people who preferred men married anyway.
Or he might not prefer a single type of person at all.
Elliot was flexible himself; it oughtn’t be a surprise to encounter others with similar inclinations.
By the time they trudged up to the crest of the hill that led to the farm, Elliot’s temper had banked only a little. The tether of his control nigh to snapping.
“Hoffman,” he said softly, halting the others. “Would you?”
“Yes, sir.” Hoffman crept forward, checking the coast was as clear as it appeared in a practiced routine.
“I don’t sense anyone. I could help scout,” Warren offered, face flushing slightly at the malevolent glare Elliot sent him.
You’ve got little enough energy left, you won’t waste it pointlessly over this, he didn’t growl. “Hoffman will do fine. If I wanted you to help him, I would have asked.”
Squaring his shoulders in the face of whatever violent outburst he felt beneath the surface of calm Elliot projected, Warren tried again.
“Okay, well, I’ll set up an illusion then, to conceal a fire and any trail we might have left if they try to pursue us.
” Something in his voice dared Elliot to decline.
No. The fight brewing between them absolutely could not take place with Charbonneau, Remonet, Bellona, and little Emilienne witnessing it. Elliot clenched his jaw, because there was no justifiable reason to refuse the offer without inciting precisely that. “Wonderful.”
At Hoffman’s whistle they marched forward down the slope to the farmhouse. Its cold stone exterior and wooden shutters a welcome respite for everyone else while Elliot stewed.
Sleeping assignments were quickly dealt with.
Bellona and Emilienne sharing one room. The other should have gone to Elliot, but if Warren wouldn’t be sleeping until morning, Elliot didn’t intend to either.
Instead, he offered his room to Charbonneau and Remonet.
Hoffman took first watch, setting up in the kitchen near the wood stove he planned to light.
Charbonneau took a moment to reveal what Emilienne had spoken of on their journey.
She’d been captured with a group of villagers, including her parents.
One by one, they’d been taken from a prison near the barracks and brought to the lab.
What had happened to them once they were taken remained a mystery.
She’d only been brought to the cage that night, and she didn’t speak German.
Elliot suspected they were using the villagers as test subjects, and it made him sick to think of what could have happened to the poor girl.
It was bad enough her parents were probably dead.
If there was one small mercy, it was that Sully had found her.
Too bad Sully had almost gotten himself killed in the process.
Once Charbonneau retreated to rest like the others, Elliot turned to Warren and gave him a flat stare that defied rebuke. “Might I speak to you outside, Corporal Sullivan?” He kept his tone polite, however it was clear he wasn’t making a request.
Warren flinched, then forced himself to relax, nodding. “Yeah, sure.”
They stepped out into the dark icy night, Elliot’s flashlight illuminating the sparkling frost as Warren tailed him to the barn. It seemed sturdy enough, if somewhat worse for the wear.
With every step, Elliot felt less in command of the emotions he’d been holding at bay, temper spiking dangerously. He should’ve pushed. He should’ve offered last night. Unbearable fury with himself and Warren rose in a sweeping tide of recrimination.
Warren’s lack of energy affected every member in their unit. If he couldn’t be trusted to maintain his illusions, he put all of them at risk. Elliot wasn’t only responsible for Warren. He was responsible for all of them. And he was terrified.
It was time to have it out. They needed to resolve this. By whatever means.
He almost died. For what? I know he’s proud, I know he’s stubborn, but it cannot happen again. It absolutely cannot.
Elliot pulled open the heavy wood door, rusty hinges resisting his efforts briefly before giving with a dreadful squeak.
He motioned for Warren to enter first. It was hardly warmer inside than out, but at least the wind was blocked by the solid wooden walls aside from the occasional whistle through a crack.
The silence was fraught as Elliot set the flashlight on a ledge and crossed his arms. He turned to face Warren a few steps away. Neither of them spoke. Warren warily watched, waiting.
“How did he get close enough to you?” Elliot asked, voice sharp.
Warren’s face colored as he winced. “I—it was—”
“How did he see you? How did he sneak up on you, Warren?”
A defiant tilt to Warren’s chin all but telegraphed the lie he was about to tell. “My full attention was on the girl, getting her out.”
Not an outright lie but not the whole truth either. Anyone who hadn’t spent time learning all the ways Warren would avoid this sort of admission might not recognize the omission. Anyone who wasn’t Elliot.
“Right, and so that made you lose the ability to conceal yourself, did it? Made you fail to notice something amiss behind you? You didn’t feel him approaching because you were otherwise occupied?
I wasn’t aware you were so easy to distract.
Distractible people don’t make it long on the battlefield, from what I’ve heard.
It’s quite the miracle you’ve come this far unscathed then, isn’t it? ”
Warren faltered, his cheeks going deeper red, his brows thick black slashes above dark, mutinous eyes. “That’s not fair. I was—”
“For Christ’s sake, Warren. You’re exhausted, why can’t you simply admit it?
I know you’ve hardly been sleeping; I lie right next to you in that fucking bed.
Christ. You’ve allowed yourself to be worn down until you are forced to take risks conserving your energy.
You’re rationing it. Picking and choosing when you genuinely require it.
Only your judgment is compromised there too, because as I said, you are fucking exhausted. ”
Warren glowered at him, hackles rising. “What do you expect me to do about it? I’m doing all I can,” he growled, flinging his arms out. “I can’t sleep and when I do, I guess you already know what’s waiting for me there, don’t you?”
Elliot’s temper finally erupted in a massive burst. He crowded forward into Warren’s space, his pulse a rushing sledgehammer in his skull.
“Why must you be so damned stubborn? You were nearly killed, Warren! I could have watched your head be blown to pieces. If I’d been a moment later, we might not be having this discussion.
Because you can’t simply ask for what you need. Why can you not allow me to help?”
Rage strained and twisted Warren’s features.
“Because,” he shouted, meeting Elliot’s aggressive posture with his own, shoving forward so they were chest to chest and glaring daggers at one another.
“Because I hate feeling weak. I hate it. I don’t want to need you to fix my head so I can sleep.
I ought to be able to handle my own mind.
And I can’t. D’you have any idea how pathetic that feels?
And then you want me to ask you to fix it?
After I already told you to fuck off?” Warren barked out a harsh laugh. “Didja really think I would do that?”
“Yes,” Elliot exclaimed, frustration like ragged fingernails clawing down his spine.
“That’s precisely what I want! And you are not weak for needing it, nor for asking.
I have never thought you were. Not once.
Not ever. I know you, Warren. I know the core of you, and there is nothing but strength and bravery and everything good in this world there.
Everything worth fighting for. You’re not weak. ”