18. Flynn
CHAPTER 18
FLYNN
The first rule of surviving enemy territory: never get caught with your guard down. I’d lived by that rule for fifteen years. But watching Lyric cross the hotel suite, her shoulders rigid with tension, I knew I was about to break it.
We’d left the team an hour ago. Lyric ordered a car to pick up Elisa and her bodyguard outside a private fashion atelier on Avenue de Grande Bretagne. It meant we had to walk to the place and then spend a painful forty minutes browsing the ultra-expensive designer gowns and suits, playing the part of the wealthy heiress and her security, before slipping out a side door to the waiting car.
If Moreau’s people checked, it would hold.
Now we were back in the suite, and the silence between us felt like a physical thing, thick and suffocating. She hadn’t spoken a word since we’d left the command center. Not while shopping, not in the car, not in the elevator, not now.
“We need to talk,” I said as soon as the suite’s door shut behind us, unable to stand the quiet any longer.
She dropped her clutch on a side table and kicked off her sky-high heels. “No, we don’t.”
I watched as she crossed to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. And, yeah, it probably made me a pig, but I couldn’t help but watch her gorgeous ass sway as she moved.
Jesus, that jumpsuit should be illegal.
My cock went semi-hard and my hands itched to grip those curves again, to hear her gasp my name. But the ice in her voice told me she was still freezing me out. I stepped closer, closing the distance she kept trying to put between us.
“Yes, we do. What exactly did Ethan tell you?” I asked, knowing Ethan well enough to guess. He’d given her the sanitized version, the official report, the one that painted me as the reckless liability.
She unscrewed the cap and took a long drink, her throat working as she swallowed. When she finally looked at me, her eyes were guarded, wary.
“That you have a habit of getting people killed.” She set the water bottle down with deliberate care. “That there’s a reason you work alone.”
I laughed, but it was a harsh sound even to my own ears. “That’s it? A decade of history and that’s all he gave you?”
“Should there be more?”
I ran a hand through my hair, suddenly restless. The walls of the suite felt too close, the air too thin. “Yeah. There’s more.”
Lyric crossed her arms, creating another barrier between us. “Then tell me.”
I moved to the window, staring out at the glittering coastline of Monte Carlo. All that money, all that glamour, hiding rot and corruption beneath. Kind of like the mission reports that buried the truth under bureaucratic bullshit.
“Sana’a, Yemen. Seven years ago.” I kept my back to her, watching her reflection in the window instead of turning to face her directly. “Ethan was running a covert extraction. High-value asset with intel on terrorist cells operating throughout the region. I was his intelligence officer.”
I felt her shift behind me, but she didn’t speak. Waiting. Patient. Like she knew this wasn’t going to be easy for me.
“The asset had information on weapons deals, personnel movements, financial networks—the kind of intelligence that could cripple operations across three countries.”
I closed my eyes briefly, the memories still razor-sharp despite the years. The heat. The dust. The coppery tang of blood in my mouth.
“My intel was solid. I’d spent three months mapping security rotations, identifying weak points, and tracking the movement patterns of everyone in that compound. But what I didn’t know—what none of us knew—was that someone had sold us out.”
“And people died,” she said quietly.
I turned from the window to find Lyric watching me. She hadn’t moved, arms still crossed, and her expression was still guarded, but I sensed a thawing in the ice.
“Three good men. Ambushed the moment they breached the compound.” The memory crashed over me—gunfire, shouting, the radio crackling with desperate calls for backup. “The asset was already dead when they got there. Executed. The whole thing was a setup.”
Her brow furrowed. “Ethan blames you?”
“Ha, yeah.” I rubbed a hand over my face, trying to scrub away the memories. “But, also, no. Saying he blames me is too simplistic for what happened. The truth is, it’s complicated. He was team leader. The call to continue the mission after the initial ambush was his, but I was the one who pushed for it.”
I crossed to the bar and poured two fingers of whiskey, needing something to steady the tremor in my hands. “I told him the intel was still valuable, even without the asset. I insisted we could still complete the objective, and Ethan trusted my judgment. He always had before.” I knocked back the whiskey in one burning swallow. “But it was chaos. The team was pinned down. Ethan made the call to abort, but I was so sure there were documents, hard drives, information we could salvage.” I turned the glass in my hand, watching the amber liquid catch the light. “So I ignored his order to retreat, and I got shot for my trouble.”
Lyric’s eyes widened slightly. “How bad?”
“Bad enough.” I set the glass down and lifted my shirt, revealing the puckered scar just below my ribs. She must have seen it last night—it was hard to miss—but never asked about it. “Caught a round that shredded my liver. By all rights, I should have bled out in that compound.”
She moved closer almost unconsciously, her eyes fixed on the scar. “But you didn’t.”
“No.” I lowered my shirt, remembering the pain, the certainty that I was dying. “Because Ethan came back for me. Against protocol. Against orders. He led three men back into that death trap. And he and I were the only ones who made it out. Barely. He carried me out through a hail of gunfire. He didn’t leave me behind, even though every manual, every protocol, every ounce of common sense said he should have. I dug my own grave, and he should’ve let me lie in it.”
Lyric’s expression softened just a fraction. “He chose to go back.”
“Yeah. That’s what makes it worse.” I knocked back the second drink, welcoming the burn. “We’ve known each other since Ranger School. Saved each other’s asses more times than I can count. When he made team leader on that Yemen op, I was his first pick. He trusted me, and I got his men killed. So when I healed up, I went freelance. Figured if I only had to worry about my own neck, I couldn’t get anyone else killed.”
Lyric’s gaze was steady. “And now he keeps you arm’s length, but still calls when he needs you.”
“Yeah.” I downed the second whiskey, welcoming the burn. “He can’t forgive me, but he knows I’m loyal. I owe him a debt I can never repay.”
“That’s kind of bullshit.”
A laugh burst out of me at her blunt assessment. “You think?”
“I do.” She moved closer. “You both made choices that day. He chose to trust your intel. He chose to go back for you. And yes, you chose to push forward when you should have retreated. But war is messy. Operations fail. And from what I’ve seen, you’d have done the same for him if your roles were reversed. You’d have gone back.”
I would’ve been thrilled to see the ice in her eyes thawing if I hadn’t had to flay myself open to get that hint of warmth again. As it was, I felt naked and raw in a way I hadn’t in years. And I hated it.
“Yeah, in a heartbeat,” I admitted roughly. “But how do you know that?”
“Because, now, you keep coming back. You keep jumping when he says jump and taking jobs you don’t want. For him. Because you love him, even when he’s an ass.”
I turned away from her, staring back out at the glittering coastline. Her words hit too close to home, like a bullet finding the gap in body armor.
“Love’s a strong word,” I muttered, but we both knew she was right.
“If not love, then why else do you keep coming back?” She moved to stand beside me at the window, close enough that I could feel the heat of her without touching.
I shrugged, trying for nonchalance and failing miserably. “Maybe I miss his sunny personality.”
She didn’t smile at the weak joke. Instead, her eyes softened with something dangerously close to understanding.
Restless, I went back to the bar and poured another drink, offering her the glass this time. She hesitated before taking it, her fingers brushing mine in the exchange. The brief contact sent electricity racing up my arm.
Lyric took a small sip, her eyes never leaving mine over the rim of the glass. The jumpsuit’s neckline dipped low enough for me to catch a glimpse of the mark I’d left on the curve of her breast. I wanted to put my mouth there again, to taste her skin, to hear those soft sounds she made when I?—
“Maybe because you miss having someone watch your six.”
Her words stilled me. I looked away, not wanting her to see how close to the mark she’d hit.
“Nah.” I waved a dismissive hand in the air. “I just like the paycheck.”
She set a hand on my forearm and waited until I met her gaze. “Either he forgives you or he doesn’t. This half-in, half-out thing you’ve got going on isn’t fair to either of you.”
Well, damn. She wasn’t going to let me off the book.
But two could play that game.
I set down my glass and held her gaze as I closed the distance between us. “And what about this half-in, half-out thing we’ve got going on?”
Lyric’s eyes went wide, then narrowed, that familiar wall slamming back into place. “We don’t have anything going on.”
“Bullshit.” I stepped closer, close enough to catch the faint scent of her perfume. “You can’t even look at me without remembering last night. I see it every time it crosses your mind. Does thinking about it make you wet for me, Lyric?”
She took a step back, but I matched it, unwilling to let her retreat this time.
“Flynn, don’t.” She lifted her chin in that defiant angle I was coming to recognize. “We already did this. Last night was a mistake. There’s nothing more to discuss.”
“I disagree.” I took a step toward her, watching her body language for signs she wanted me to back off. She didn’t retreat, but her grip on her glass tightened. “What happened between us wasn’t just blowing off steam. It wasn’t a mistake. And it sure as hell wasn’t something you can dismiss with some bullshit about adrenaline.”
“What do you want me to say?” Her voice held a warning, but there was something else there too—a tremor she couldn’t quite hide. “That it meant something? That we’re suddenly in a relationship? We barely know each other.”
“I know enough.” Another step closer. “I know you’re stubborn and brilliant and dangerous. I know you fight like you’ve got something to prove. I know you taste like honey when you come in my mouth. And I know last night was a hell of a lot more than just sex for both of us.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed. Her facade cracked—just a bit—showing a flicker of vulnerability, of longing. But then it was gone, replaced by those cold steel walls she liked to hide behind.
“It doesn’t matter what it was,” she said, her voice steady again. “It can’t happen again.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m still trying to establish myself on this team. Because I’m responsible for securing Sentinel. Because Ethan already doesn’t trust me, and if he thinks I’m compromised because of you?—”
“So this is about Ethan?”
She stepped around me and quickly put the length of the room between us. “It’s about the job. It’s always about the job, Flynn. You know that better than anyone.”
I watched her, the careful way she moved, the tension radiating off her. If I dug my fingers into those tight knots in her shoulders, would she moan? I desperately wanted to find out, but stayed where I was. She was already spooked, and I knew better than to push a wild animal when it was cornered.
“Maybe the job doesn’t have to be everything for us,” I said.
Her flinch told me more than a thousand words could have. Her hesitation to admit we had something more than sex wasn’t just about professionalism or Ethan’s approval. This reluctance was deeper, rooted in who she believed herself to be.
“Look at me,” I said softly.
She turned, her expression a careful mask.
“I’m not asking for forever, Lyric.” Yet , I thought. “I’m just asking you not to pretend last night didn’t happen.”
She made an exasperated sound and flapped her arms in exasperation. “What difference does it make?”
“Because I’m not walking away from this.” The words surprised even me as they left my mouth, but I knew they were true. “From you.”
Her eyes widened, something like panic flashing across her face. “Flynn?—”
“I’m not saying we need to define anything. I’m not asking for promises. But I’m not going to let you shut this down before it even has a chance.”
She looked away, her jaw working. “You don’t understand.”
“Then talk to me, princess. Tell me why this won’t work.”
She was silent for so long, I thought she wouldn’t answer. When she finally spoke, her voice was so quiet I had to strain to hear it.
“I can’t be what you want.”
“You don’t know what I want.”
Her eyes met mine, suddenly fierce. “Yes, I do. You want the woman from last night. The one who let go, who didn’t think about consequences. But that’s not who I am, Flynn. I can’t afford to be that person.”
“Why not?”
“Because people die when I lose focus!” The words exploded out of her, raw and jagged. She took a shuddering breath. “I can’t... I won’t let that happen again.”
There was so much pain in her voice, and I wanted to pull her into my arms, to promise her everything would be okay, but I knew better. Instead, I stayed where I was, giving her the space she needed.
“What happened wasn’t your fault,” I said quietly.
Her laugh was bitter. “You don’t even know what I’m talking about.”
“I don’t need to. I recognize the look.” I’d seen it in the mirror enough times. “You’re carrying something heavy. And you think being alone makes it easier to bear.”
“Pot, meet kettle,” she said bitterly.
“Fair enough.” I couldn’t argue with that, and I conceded the point with a slight nod. “The difference is, I’m willing to admit that maybe the lone wolf lifestyle isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I never thought so until last night. Until you.”
In that moment, the wall between us dropped completely, and she looked utterly vulnerable standing there.
“Flynn.” My name fell from her lips like a plea. “It’s not that simple.”
“It could be,” I replied, stepping closer.
A battle played out behind those green eyes. “I came here to do a job. To prove myself.”
“And you can still do that. This doesn’t have to be either, or. This changes nothing about the mission.”
“It changes everything.” She shook her head, curling her arms around herself like armor. “I spent years building myself into someone who could handle this kind of work. Someone focused. Untouchable.”
I reached for her hand, half-expecting her to pull away. She didn’t. “I hate to break it to you, princess, but you’re very touchable.”
A reluctant smile tugged at her mouth, but faded as quickly as it had appeared.
“You know what I mean.” She pulled her hand away, but not before I caught the tremor in her fingers. “This isn’t who I am. I don’t do... whatever this is.”
“And who exactly are you, Lyric Renard?” I closed the distance between us and brushed my knuckles down her cheek. “The ice queen who pretends nothing matters? Or the woman who was all fire and need in my arms last night?”
Her breath hitched. “Both. Neither. I don’t know anymore.” That admission seemed to cost her something. “I’ve spent my entire life becoming whatever person the mission needed.”
“Maybe it’s time to find out.” I lowered my head with every intention of kissing her senseless, but Elisa Deveraux’s phone buzzed across the table, shattering the moment.
Lyric jerked away, relief and regret warring in her eyes. “I have to get that.”
I muttered a curse, but released her, hating every step she took toward that damn phone.
She snatched it up, and she was suddenly Elisa again. It was unsettling how quickly she could transform—her posture straightening, her expression cooling into elegant disdain. The vulnerability vanished like it had never existed.
“It’s Moreau telling me about the auction being moved up. He’s sending a car to collect me in an hour.” She made a disgusted face. “Ew. He just suggested I pack my smallest bikini.”
“So we were right. The auction’s on his yacht.” My gut twisted at the thought of Moreau seeing Lyric in a bikini. “The man’s predictable, I’ll give him that.”
Lyric’s face tightened as she typed a response. “I’m telling him I’ll be ready, but Colt Mercer will be accompanying me as my security.”
“And will he agree to that?”
“He’ll have to.” Her fingers flew across the screen. “Elisa Deveraux doesn’t go anywhere without protection. It’s part of her brand.”
I watched her slide back into character, her posture straightening, her expression shifting, becoming more aloof, more calculating. It was fascinating to witness—like watching someone put on an invisible mask.
“We need to tell Ethan.”
“I’ll do that,” I said. “You go pack.”
She set her phone down and moved toward the bedroom.
I waited until she was at the doorway before calling after her. “Lyric.”
She paused, her hand on the doorframe, but didn’t turn.
“You’re right—I do want someone to watch my six, and I want that someone to be you.” I held her gaze, making sure she understood. “I’m tired of being alone, so I’m not walking away from this. From us. Get used to it.”
She glanced back at me, and a whole lot of emotion flickered across her face—fear, hope, longing. She locked it down fast, but I saw the woman from last night, the one who’d wrapped herself around me like she never wanted to let go.
The woman I was falling in love with.
Or, hell. Maybe I’d already nosedived off that cliff and was just in free fall. It was hard to tell when I couldn’t think straight around her.
Lyric’s lips parted like she wanted to say something, but then she shut them tight and turned away. And, like that, she was Siren again. “We’ll talk later.”