10. Gwen
Gwen
“We’re almost to the house.” Zoey stops in front of us, scanning the darkness. The sound of her voice is still a little muffled from the pressure in my ears after hearing those shots fired without protection. “You two good alone if I go ahead and clear it?”
Aside from the lights mounted to their weapons that they’ve barely used—probably to avoid drawing attention to us—they’ve pretty much relied on the moon’s reflection off the water as a guide. It’s been painting a ghostly trail along the edge of the woods we’ve been trekking through.
“You sure you don’t want backup?” Easton asks her.
“All good, no worries.” She lifts the rifle, turning on the flashlight attached to it, and the small beam of light cuts through the trees as she sets out her course forward.
“We’ll be right behind you,” he promises before Zoey disappears into the shadows.
She’s been leading us since the compound, including past bodies they left behind. Fifteen people. I wasn’t counting, but I heard Zoey mention it, her tone flat, like tallying up how many people ordered a Guinness at the local pub.
But those fifteen people had futures. Families. Now? They’re dust.
Not that I feel bad for them. They did choose the wrong side, but still.
I swallow, my stomach hollow and clawing at itself.
“You okay?” Easton asks once we’re alone, picking up on either my stomach growl or my depressing thoughts.
“Mm-hmm,” I breathe out.
In reality, the jumpsuit is still damp from the rain, my hair keeps sticking to my face, and my feet ache in sandals not made for walking. But I don’t dare complain, or he’ll carry me again. Despite my protests, he’s already held me at two different points on this hike.
Easton flicks on his flashlight attached to the Glock, sweeping the ground ahead, then the path behind us. “Don’t lie to me.”
“Even if it’s a baby lie?”
I may not be able to see his eyes, but I can feel his glare. “No lies. Big or small.”
“I’m okay to walk.” I settled for an in-between lie.
With his free hand, his knuckles brush mine, searching for my hand, so I give it to him. It’s a quiet comfort as we crunch over branches and leaves, insects humming around us. Every step we take, I mentally spiral, but I keep pushing forward on my own two feet.
“Hold up. There’s a—” He drops the gun and the warning in the same breath, spinning me around.
In a lightning-quick maneuver, his hands go to my waist, and he throws both of us to the left. We hit the ground hard, Easton taking the brunt of the fall. Guilt twists inside me as I feel the thud through his body.
I’m sprawled across his chest, my breath mingling with his. His gun is on its side next to us, pointing through leaves, and the pale stream of light reveals the drop we almost went over. Tonight’s turning into a night of almosts. One step more, and we’d have gone straight into the water down below.
A groan slips from him before he asks, “You okay?” His voice is rough in a way that hits something low in my stomach.
I push up a little, palms braced on his chest. I’m sitting right on his crotch, which is just great. “Are you okay? I didn’t, uh, crush anything important, did I?” Heat bursts up my neck and into my face as if I asked about his balls out loud.
“All, uh”—he coughs—“good.” Another strained grunt he pretends isn’t there follows his lie.
“Didn’t realize how close to the ledge we were.
” His hands slide up my arms as he orders, “Don’t move.
You may roll right off.” He reaches for the gun and guides us both into a semi-seated position with me still on his lap.
My fingers wrap around his biceps, and somehow, I’m even closer than I was before and my breasts are smashed to his chest.
You’d think after what those men planned to do to me, I’d recoil from anyone’s touch. And yet, I want the opposite of distance. I want his breath at my temple. His arms keeping the world from swallowing me whole.
The tears I’ve been fighting suddenly burn hot and flow uncontrollably. My grip on him tightens as everything inside me cracks open.
The woods go quiet, like even the wildlife knows to leave us alone.
“You hurt?” He sets the gun aside and holds on to me, creating a cocoon of heat and safety.
“Not physically.” I hide my face against his neck, one hand wrapping around his back, clutching him like he’s the only thing that can anchor me to the present and out of that room.
“And your ears, how are they now?”
I would smile at how sweet he is if this was a smiling situation. “Getting better. The fresh air has helped.”
“Good, shouldn’t last too much longer.” His breath shakes once, enough for me to feel the rattle in his chest. Enough to know I’m not the only one unraveling.
“I’m just so damn sorry this happened.” His palm slides to the back of my head.
His fingers slip into my hair, holding me like he needs the contact as much as I do.
“Not your fault,” I hiccup.
Another soft groan escapes him. One he tries (and fails) to hide.
Did he hurt himself when we fell? “No lies, remember? What happened to you?” Or do you feel guilty for a woman straddling you, because something happened between you and Zoey while you’ve been here? I manage to suffocate that last question and keep it behind a not-the-time filter.
“I got hurt earlier tonight.” Before I can ask a follow-up, he adds, “Don’t worry about me. I’m just relieved you’re okay, and that we got to you . . .”
He can’t finish that thought.
That’s okay.
I’m not up for hearing it, either.
His chin rests on top of my head like he’s shielding me from anything and everything, even while alone with nature. I scoot forward on his lap, desperate to melt into him, to borrow his steadiness because mine is gone.
He shifts around slightly, and is he uncomfortable with me sitting right on his crotch? Not that I feel him going hard or anything.
I start to pull away, but his hands go firmly to my waist, halting me. “Don’t you dare go anywhere,” he says roughly, a near-growl.
I peel back just enough to try and see him, hoping the flashlight from the gun is still angled our way.
I can’t make out his eyes, but I know the shape of them.
The tension in his jaw. The set of his shoulders under my hands.
I know his body like it’s a place I’ve experienced, even though we’ve never been intimate. Never even kissed.
He brushes his thumbs over my damp cheeks. “Actually, maybe we should get up?” He pauses. “Your dad must be terrified.”
“My dad . . .” Tears start again before the words come tumbling out. “I was in Dubai on holiday, and he was close by, but he couldn’t get to me in time. They showed up at our hotel and took me. Your sister was with me when it happened. They hit her.”
He goes dead still beneath me.
“She’s okay. I—I think. They promised if I went with them, they wouldn’t hurt her again. They said they only wanted me. So, I stopped fighting back and did what they said.”
He’s quiet for a few seconds, probably wrestling with the ugly image I painted. “We, uh, should get you inside and make that call to your father. Zoey’s also probably getting worried about what’s taking us so long.”
He eases me off his lap and picks up his weapon.
He sweeps the beam of light from the gun along the ground until he finds a safe path.
Once we’re both on our feet, he places the 9mm in my hands, then scoops me up before I can object.
One arm under my knees, the other bracing my back, he cradles me to his chest with effortless strength.
“But you’re in pain.” If I had known he was hurt earlier, I wouldn’t have let him carry me.
“My back pain is the least of my concerns.” He leans forward, his nose nuzzling mine, which is oddly sweet given everything going on. “Now light our way, will ya?”
I do as he says, raising the gun. Through the shifting shadows, the silhouette of a house emerges up on a hill, one warm light glowing inside.
We barely make it halfway when Zoey materializes out of the trees like some forest-dwelling avenger, rifle in hand. “I was afraid something happened to you two.”
“Had a minor fall,” he says. “We’re fine. Everything good up top?”
She matches our pace on his right. “Yeah, it’s clear. Perimeter is secure. I was waiting to turn on the security system until you two got here.”
Easton doesn’t put me down until we’re on the front steps of our safe haven. “And where are we exactly?” I hand him the gun, and he tucks it at the back of his pants.
“Espiritu Santo,” Zoey answers while letting us inside. “Largest island in Vanuatu.”
“Never heard of it,” I whisper as she steps around me, plucking a leaf from my hair.
Something gentle flickers in her eyes before she sets aside her rifle and shuts the door, engaging the locks.
A keypad beeps softly, then she enters another code.
“Trip wires are now armed, too. Anyone who tries to get within a hundred meters of this place . . .” She mimes an explosion with her hands.
“If only that woman back there would try and show up,” I say under my breath. “She, um, knows who you both are.” Worried they’ll think I gave them up, I hurry and add on, “I didn’t tell her; she already knew.”
“With what she said to me before I left, I figured that was the case,” she acknowledges.
“We need to get Wyatt and Carter on the phone,” Easton says while removing a new stick of gum from his pocket. He ditched his last piece halfway through our journey.
Zoey glances down the hall. “It’s probably in the office I spotted while I cleared the house.”
Easton pockets his trash, quietly observing me as she takes off. His gaze slants over my orange jumpsuit, and something tells me he’s remembering what he saw back in that room.
I wring my fingers together. Guilt pulls my eyes to the floor as I admit, “I have to tell you—”
“I know.” He leans his shoulder against the wall, a gruff breath falling from his lips.
“You know what?”
“She made you do something for her. Something cyber-related.”
If only that was all. “She has my rig.” I shake my nervous hands out at my sides. “But there’s more.”
“Intel about us? About Falcon?” he guesses, and yeah, that, too, but . . .
“She blew up the hotel I was at in Dubai tonight,” I blurt out, unable to hold in the truth any longer. “Sh—she said if I didn’t give her my password, she’d destroy the hospital where my brother works next. Then hurt everyone else I—I care about.” I’m stuttering, stumbling through my words.
My legs suddenly give out, and part of me wishes I did fall right off that cliff. Just disappear and let the current in the river below carry me away. He crouches swiftly, hands anchoring beneath my armpits to catch me before I hit the floor.
“Let me fall, please.” My knees are hovering just above the wood floors, and he carefully does as I ask, going down with me.
I park my ass on my heels and bury my face in my palms, hoping to hide my shame.
“There were kids there. Families.” I let the harsh cry rip deep from my lungs.
“And I doubt anyone could have survived that. All because I told her no the first time she asked for my password. She didn’t even give me a chance to try and save them. ”
Next thing I know, I’m back in his lap again. I don’t even know how it happened, but he’s seated on the floor, and my cheek is pressed against his racing heart.
“I’m so, so sorry. I can’t imagine . . .” He abandons his words, and when I lift my head, I realize it’s because Zoey’s back.
Before I can even let the thought of a them pass through my mind (at such a bad time), I notice the mobile in her outstretched hand. It’s on speakerphone and ringing. “Is Wyatt with you?” she asks the second someone answers.
“Wyatt is—”
“Dad!” I don’t cry, I scream, interrupting Carter. “D—dad?” I blink back tears as I wait for a response.
There’s silence on the other end. Something tells me it’s not because Carter didn’t hear me, but because he’s in disbelief. I’m hoping my dad is with him, and he’s about to hand him the mobile or place the call on speaker if it’s not already.
“Gwen?” Dad’s breath stutters through the line, slightly muffled at the end, like a hand slapping over his mouth.
Oh thank God.
“Gwen? Tell me that’s really you I just heard.” He says my name again, like he’s testing it out. Afraid he’s hallucinating. “Gwen . . . sweetheart?”
I try to speak, but my voice breaks. Chills fly down my body, and I drop my forehead to Easton’s shoulder and finally manage to eke out, “It’s me.” A shaky exhalation follows as I whisper, “He—he saved me, Dad. Easton saved my life.”