Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Nick paced the narrow room in the decommissioned lighthouse, the salt-crusted window showcasing the thick clouds building along the horizon, blotting out the last of the watery evening sunlight.
Large swells rolled across the ocean, the white, ragged crests windswept from the increasing gale.
Below, the endless breakers crashed against the rocks like artillery, each impact fraying the few nerves he had left.
He paused, rubbed his thigh. The shrapnel wounds had mostly knitted together, the previous dull throb replaced by an itchy, restless heat. He’d been stretching the muscles — doing one-legged squats — anything to speed up his recovery.
Being confined to a single space, even if it was to heal, reminded him of his “desk” years.
All the time he’d spent spinning his wheels, trying to find a way back into the field — a way to feel important.
To find redemption, if he was being honest. So, allowing his teammates and Sloane to do the heavy lifting felt like a festering wound he couldn’t treat.
Nick ambled over to the window, stared out at the graying light, watching a set of lights bounce along the water.
Too far away to identify but based on how they lingered — moved a bit too slow for the current conditions — they were likely searching for him.
More mercenaries hoping to cash in on the bounty.
He grunted at the thought — at how helpless sitting on his ass felt.
Sloane had been scouring the files ever since they’d arrived, searching for a reason Hill had ordered the hit.
But even after driving herself to the brink of exhaustion every night, she hadn’t unearthed anything useful — a fact that had their host more than a bit edgy.
The jagged memory sifted through Nick’s mind.
How Tierney had been standing by a rack of rifles when they’d swept through the main entrance, mouth pinched tight, hands fisting and releasing at her side.
She’d flinched when Nick had stumbled toward a chair, recovering once Buck had moved in close.
Not quite touching her, just occupying her space until her breathing had eased.
It reminded Nick of his own return from the dark five years ago — how the entire world had felt like a threat and only one person had operated on his “safe” frequency.
Sloane had been his anchor. His peace, and he knew he’d follow her into a hurricane with nothing more than a life vest.
Tierney, on the other hand, had kept her distance, allowing only Buck into her personal “red zone”.
She hadn’t been cold or unwelcoming, just guarded, as if she always operated on a DEFCON two threat level —expected someone to jump out of the shadows if she closed her eyes for longer than a few hours at a time.
Lowered her walls enough to let someone inside.
A trait he understood.
Though, after finally acknowledging Sloane meant more to him than anyone ever had, he’d been floundering. And he couldn’t help but wonder if the current situation had altered her feelings.
If the kiss they’d shared would be their first and last.
He huffed, pulled on a hoodie from the pile of clothes Buck had loaned him from the Roswell, then headed for the main area.
Salty brine hung heavy in the air, a mix of old metal and ozone filtering down the hallway.
He paused at the entrance, watching Tierney clean a stripped-down Sig with mechanical precision.
The kind of repetitive motion he’d used to help ground him during those first dark months.
Only he suspected she’d never fully escaped.
That the memories lingered like an unwanted guest.
She obviously sensed his presence, cocking her head toward the doorway as she glanced at his leg, her mass of caramel-colored hair pulled back into a high ponytail, her blue eyes clearly assessing everything.
She looked almost small in the room, her lean form dwarfed by a hoodie Nick suspected belonged to Buck.
She glanced at Nick, gaze sweeping the length of him, then went back to cleaning. “Coffee’s fresh, just don’t trip on the cables, Colter. I don’t need you bleeding all over the place.”
Nick huffed as he passed her chair. “Are you always this cheery?”
Tierney smiled sweetly at him. “Only when I’m cooped up with spooks.”
“That’s former-spook.”
Tierney glanced at Sloane. “Maybe I wasn’t talking about you?”
Nick chuckled. “Sloane? Really? Because I’m sure I heard you two bonding over shared male frailties just yesterday.”
A hint of a smile curled Tierney’s mouth. “I was being nice. It’s definitely you.”
“What’s Nick?”
Nick glanced at Buck as he walked into the room, rain dripping off his jacket, hints of pine and woodsmoke following him inside.
His brown hair sat in a tousled mess about his head, his blue eyes watching Tierney as if he expected her to bolt.
Not that Buck couldn’t catch her. Since he’d dragged himself out of his abyss, the man had put a lot of effort into training and it showed.
Though, Nick suspected Buck needed Tierney to choose to stay — to choose him.
Tierney shrugged, but Nick didn’t miss the way the air around her shifted the moment Buck walked into the room. Lighter. As if he shared some of her burden. “That Nick’s the reason we can’t have nice things.” She grinned. “Oh, and he’s also the reason I’m grumpy.”
Buck snagged a cup of coffee, poured one for her, then claimed the seat next to hers.
He shoved the mug across the table, staring her down until she took a sip.
“Just part of Colter’s charm. Speaking of which…
” He turned toward Nick, then thumbed at Sloane.
“Use some of it to get her to take a break before she’s our next medical emergency. ”
Nick glanced into the large area Tierney had converted into a comms room, complete with satellite integration and high-tech Interpol-grade surveillance gear.
Numerous camera feeds played on a bank of monitors lining the far wall, twin computer stations flanking the center.
Sloane sat in perfect profile with her gaze fixed on the twin screens hooked up to her laptop.
A mug sat off to one side along with a plate of untouched food.
He sighed. “How long has she been at it this time?”
“Twelve hours.” Buck sighed. “Straight.” He poured some coffee, offered Nick a mug. “I’ll give her this much, she’s…”
Nick took a swig. “Obsessed?”
“I was going to say dedicated, but yours fits better.”
“Stubborn works, too.”
Sloane stopped tapping, looked over at them. “You know I’m only twenty feet away, right? That I can hear you?”
Nick grabbed another mug, crossed over to her and placed it on the side of her desk. “Good, then maybe you’ll stop working yourself to death and take a break.”
Sloane scoffed, took a generous sip as she leaned back in the chair. “I can’t afford to take a break until I figure out what the hell Hill’s hiding. It’s in here. I just haven’t found it, yet.”
“Then, it’ll still be in there in the morning.”
She looked up at him, all green eyes and bouncy curls. “No guarantee we will, though.”
“Sloane.”
“Buck’s had to shut the power off six times in four days to avoid drones and curious boaters from discovering this place isn’t quite as dormant as advertised.
And I know Tierney’s leaving false trails.
Setting traps. It’s only a matter of time before some group of highly trained assholes figures it out.
And I’d rather be long gone before they do. ”
Nick stared at her, admiring the delicate curve of her jaw, the way the blue light from the screen deepened the green in her eyes. How it didn’t matter if she held a pistol or a keyboard, her presence hit him with the same lethal impact.
He rested his hip against her desk, leaned in. “God, you’re beautiful.”
Sloane choked on a sip of coffee, wiping at her mouth before eyeing him as if he’d lost his mind. “Not sure what that has to do with the current situation.”
“Nothing.” Nick inched closer. “Everything.” He reached out, tucked some hair behind her ear. “How can I help?”
Her breath caught from the simple caress, and she stared up at him, eyes wide, an adorable blush creeping across her cheeks before she blinked, seemed to jerk herself back. “I thought this was an intervention?”
“It was, but we both know nothing I say will sway you when you’re this focused, so tell me what I can do to make this go faster.”
She laughed. “God, just when I think you can’t surprise me…” She motioned to the second monitor. “I can throw some files up there, and you can go through them.”
Nick pulled out a chair, settled in. “What am I looking for?”
“A reason for Hill to want us dead.”
“That’s pretty vague…” He trailed off, exhaled. “Which is why you’re still searching.”
She pointed to a box at the bottom of the screen. “I’ve been putting names, companies and cities from the missions into my algorithm, then having it scrub everything it can find on both the CIA database and the dark web. See if I can find a connection.”
“Is that safe considering…”
Sloane merely crossed her arms, stared at him.
He held up one hand. “Right. You’re the brains, I’m the brawn. Forget I asked.”
He focused on the screen, scrolling through the mission specs, after-action reports, typing anything that seemed vaguely important into Sloane’s program. The minutes bled into hours as rain tapped the windows, any light beyond fading to black.
He pushed back from the keyboard, pointing to the coffee mug.
She nodded and went back to work as he walked over to the kitchen, got a new pot brewing.
The muscles in his neck ached, his ass numb from sitting on the edge of the seat, willing something to happen, and he couldn’t help but wonder how she kept digging without shouting at the walls.
Lashing out at the darkness.