Chapter 25
Chapter 25
“ T raffic’s going to be tight, and we’ll have some time in the car. Tell me about Paley,” Ethan commanded.
Piedmont blew out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He turned to stare out the window at the gathering darkness and sea of taillights. DC traffic was at its worst, increasing his anxiety. What if they got there too late? What if… “Paley’s the best friend I’ve ever had. She’s helped me realize things about myself I didn’t know existed, components of my makeup I didn’t realize were missing and important. She taught me what it means to be normal and how to accomplish it. She’s kind to me in ways I didn’t know I needed her to be. She gets me, doesn’t try to change me, makes me better, makes me laugh, takes care of me, lets me take care of her.”
“That’s heartwarming, Bonvoy, but I meant does she keep a cool head in emergencies? Will she take direction if I give her an order? Should I expect someone hysterical and obstinate, what?” Ethan said.
“Oh,” Piedmont said, glad for the cover of darkness that hid his flush. “She’ll keep a cool head, and she’ll listen if she realizes you’re one of the good guys.”
Ethan nodded. “Sounds like you love her in a forever kind of way.”
Was it possible there was a tinge of remorse in his tone, as if he actually felt bad about his part in breaking Piedmont’s heart? Would Piedmont feel bad, if the situation were reversed? It was hard for him to imagine now. Every time he tried to imagine stealing Amelia away from Ethan his mind instead conjured Paley. He certainly hadn’t felt regret when he thought he was taking Paley away from Mattie. On the contrary, he had felt a vindicated sort of possession, an unwavering certainty that Paley belonged to him and not Mattie, regardless of their long friendship. Was that what Ethan had felt for Amelia? Until this moment Piedmont assumed Ethan was merely the sort of man who took what he wanted, regardless of the consequences. But maybe not. Maybe he only took what he felt already belonged to him.
“Yes,” he said in answer to the question that had been asked a while ago, leaving awkward silence too long in its wake.
“Knowing your taste in women, she must be something special,” Ethan said.
“She is,” Piedmont agreed. He thought of Paley, who had watched her best friend die in the worst sort of way, and yet hadn’t given in to despair or given up on life. She had been cheated on and dumped by her husband, ruthlessly kicked to the curb and humiliated by his behavior, but hadn’t become bitter or given up on love. She remained unerringly kind and softhearted, humble, hard working, funny, and smart. She was everything he didn’t know he needed and wanted in a woman, and she had fallen into his life as if by some miracle. Or perhaps not. Acacia who, besides Paley and his mother, knew him better than anyone, had said she had a feeling about Paley from the beginning, a sort of foreknowledge she and Piedmont would hit it off. She had meant it to be merely a working relationship, but the chemistry that made them work as boss and employee had translated, first into friendship and then romance. Amelia had been glitzy, glamorous, stunningly beautiful and ambitious. For a while, Piedmont believed that was what he needed in life, someone whose accomplishments and status matched his own. But really he needed someone who filled in his missing pieces, who felt like home and peace and love, who provided all the softness he was otherwise missing. Paley liked simple things—sunshine on warm dirt, a cup of tea on a cold afternoon, frosting a cake with precision, reading a good book. Her gentle steadiness had invaded all the missing pieces of Piedmont’s heart and life, filling it with warmth and care. How had he never realized how lonely he was? How empty and near to broken? His unusual childhood had given him a bevy of achievements but little else. Now at last he’d found his center, his very heart, and she was in terrible danger.
“Can we not go any faster?” he asked.
“No need, we’re here,” Ethan said. He parked the car on the street, reached into his bag, and handed Piedmont a vest and helmet.
“I can’t take these away from you,” Piedmont said.
“You’re not. I always bring two in case I have to take Amelia with me when I bug out.” He said it normally, as if everyone kept a bag loaded with tactical equipment for his wife, in case he was attacked in the night or some other catastrophe.
“Yes, well, I keep extra socks in my briefcase, so it’s practically the same,” Piedmont said.
Ethan snickered. “I find you a lot funnier when you’re not dating the woman I’m in love with.”
“And I find you more likeable when I know you’re not going to end up marrying the woman you’re rescuing for me,” Piedmont returned.
“We’ll see how it turns out,” Ethan said, then held up his hands. “I was joking, geez. And don’t tell Amelia I said that, please. She doesn’t take kindly to references of my former player lifestyle.”
“Whipped,” Piedmont coughed.
“Yeah, we’ll see how marriage turns out for you,” Ethan said, his tone cryptic.
Piedmont didn’t reply because he wasn’t married and still rarely won an argument with Paley.
Ethan handed him a gun. “Ready?”
“Yes,” Piedmont said, but it came out like a question.
Ethan paused. “Are you having second thoughts? You don’t have to do this.”
“I’m not having second thoughts; I’m surprised you’re letting me do this, frankly,” Piedmont said.
Ethan shrugged. “I’m like a dog. The world’s all shades of gray to me. If you want to go in and take out a bad guy, that’s one less for me to have to handle. I could do this myself, but it seems important for you to want to help, and I sort of owe you. So have at it.”
“I don’t think I understand your world at all,” Piedmont said.
“That’s mutual. I’d make a lousy lawyer. I don’t see the point of using words when a fist to the face makes a better and more lasting argument.” He checked his gun one last time and stepped out of the car, Piedmont at his side. He gave him a rundown of the hand signals he would be using in the raid and then it was, “go time,” the last words Ethan whispered before going silent and switching to signals.
Ethan went first, of course. Piedmont didn’t fool himself he was anything more than a prop to this SEAL turned spy who could likely kill a man with his bare hands and probably had. Idly, Piedmont wondered how he lived with the death of another man on his conscience but reasoned, despite his words to the contrary, things must be very black and white for him. When wrong was committed, justice must be meted. He was justice’s foot soldier. Whereas Piedmont had always been more involved in the ethical deliberations of right and wrong, using logic, reason, and the power of persuasion to come to a conclusion, Ethan saw only two possible outcomes: guilty and in need of punishment or innocent and able to walk free.
They reached a locked door deep inside the warehouse. So far they’d encountered no one, no security. Piedmont wasn’t sure if this meant they felt so secure in their hideout they believed they wouldn’t be found or they were walking into a trap. He glanced at Ethan to see what he was thinking, but his face was expressionless, his focus on the task at hand complete. It was likely how Piedmont looked when writing a brief or preparing a closing argument. To each his own, he had time to think before Ethan put his ear to the door, listened for a moment, touched his finger questioningly to the hinges, then gave it a hard kick that sent it flying into the room.