32. Oliver
32
“You can’t talk me out of this. Carter’s already rerouting his second jet to Canada to pick us up. It’s a done deal.” Mya’s casual demeanor and shoulder shrug had me closing my eyes and counting back from ten so I didn’t yell.
She knew I’d never let her step foot on that jet without me, and I was well aware of the fact I’d have to tie her up to stop her from leaving this place, and I couldn’t do that.
Even the memory of both of us being shackled in that room in Thailand was enough to make me sick. Not a chance in hell I’d allow this woman near cuffs ever again, not even in a “fun” way.
A deep breath later, I forced my eyes open to find Mya staring off at the lake, her back to me. She’d escaped to the deck after the arrangements for our flight had been made.
Wyatt’s off-screen phone call had been to pull together protection for his wife and daughter, as well as Gray’s and Jack’s families. Wyatt had every intention of coming to Zurich with Gwen, though.
Echo Team, which Wyatt ran as team leader, wasn’t currently on a mission for POTUS, which meant they were available to help keep an eye on everyone’s loved ones. He’d also requested POTUS’s other two teams, Bravo and Charlie, be on standby for backup in case we needed assistance in Abu Dhabi at Yas Island, aka “Fight Island.”
Despite returning to the call at the tail end of our group chat, Julia never did utter another word to me. I’d need to have that conversation with her later, but before I potentially died in our face-off.
My jaw strained as I resisted gathering Mya in my arms, knowing as strong as she’d been on that call, she was overwhelmed and hurting.
But I kept going hot-and-cold on her, and it wasn’t fair to keep doing that. I couldn’t tell her I was fucked beyond repair and then do things that gave her hope. Things like holding her hand. Hugging her.
The sun was starting to set, casting a glow behind her. Hell, all around her. How much time had passed in this never-ending day?
“If we hadn’t been tipped off about the pigeons that day, we may not have wound up in that room in Bangkok.” She slowly faced me, her tone tentative. “At the same time, we may never have connected the dots and found so many of the missing puzzle pieces.” She worked her lip between her teeth, allowing her nerves to take over for a moment. “I like to think everything happens for a reason, but it’s kind of hard to this time.”
I’d give anything to take back what happened in Bangkok, and I knew she felt that way, too. I also understood the path we were on now might help take down one of the worst criminal groups out there, the kind that hides in plain sight as a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
When I didn’t talk, she continued, “What if this is actually why I am the way I am? My issues, I mean. What if I saw something when I was younger, and my parents made sure I forgot. And then when the nightmares started in middle school, they had me see a hypnotist to help me forget.” She leaned against the wooden railing, flicking at invisible lint on the sweatshirt. “Then when I fainted while falling, plus that headbutt, it jolted the memories free again.”
I stared at her in silence, unsure how to get through this conversation without giving in to the natural impulse to hold her. To promise her everything would be okay. Because what if it wasn’t going to be?
What if her parents were monsters, and they had lied to her? What if I had to kill them, too? Because if her dad had a hand in what happened in Thailand, I wouldn’t hesitate to slice his fucking throat. That thought, that image, terrified me. How quickly it’d come. How easily it slipped into place. I am a killer, aren’t I?
And what if we took out The Collective, but those motherfuckers had a spare tire ready to go? A new wheel to replace the other? Evil never just quietly died, not forever. It only ever seemed to go dormant for a bit.
“One step at a time.” I was sure those were the words I was supposed to say, at least. “We’ll figure this out, and we’ll go from there.”
“Together?” She lowered her hand to her side and closed the space between us.
Against my better judgment, I held my ground, refusing to take even one step back. “You know I can’t let you get on that jet without me, but I need you to understand, this will be my last mission.”
She pursed her lips, lost to thought before she hit me with what she knew to be the truth. A truth I never wanted to hear her acknowledge. “You plan to challenge Hugo to a fight, don’t you?”
I had two choices. Lie or deflect. She didn’t give me a chance to do either.
“I thought the walls were gone by the lake. In the tub. On the couch in front of your dad. You let me in. But they’re back, and it’s breaking my heart.”
Mya having a broken heart shattered mine into a million fucking pieces, but I couldn’t mend hers without fixing mine, and it wasn’t reparable. “I never removed the wall, I just lowered it. Guess I’m more like one of those dividers in an old-school limo than bulletproof glass in a fancy Tahoe. But yeah, it’s back up, and it has to stay there.”
“The fact you can make a joke is both maddening and encouraging. You still have your humor, but I get the feeling you’re using it to mask your pain. Again. Now that I know everything, I’m guessing?—”
“That I was never actually funny.” I did it again, didn’t I? It was a knee-jerk reflex I’d learned over the years. She was right. It was my way of handling the unhandleable. Shit, was that even a real word, or was Mya still rubbing off on me?
“See.” She waved her hand between us, her fingers brushing across my chest in the process.
The glass door sliding open saved me from having another quick reaction I might regret—to draw her into my arms and never let go.
“Why don’t you two come in and eat? We have sandwiches made.” Dad’s girlfriend hung back, giving us space while calling us in.
I sighed, thinking back to the lake. “I guess there’s never a wrong time for sandwiches.”
“So, how’d you two meet?” Mya filled the awkward silence between bites of our ham and cheese sandwiches, acting as though we hadn’t had an earth-shattering conversation about our enemies, pigeons, and John Wick-like bad-guy hotels less than an hour earlier.
I had no clue how she kept soldiering on with a brave face, but the woman redefined the meaning of strong, that much I knew.
“In Montana. He was visiting a friend of his who worked at my family’s ranch, and we sort of hit it off.” Cindy sipped her whiskey neat, eyeing my father with a sly smile. Yeah, I didn’t want to know more than that. Her smile alone told me the story involved a lack of clothes at some point.
T-the fuck-M-I for sure since he was my old man. Too much information.
Cindy hiked a thumb toward Malcolm. “But this guy here had recently convinced Sam to move up to Canada and help him restore this inn. I decided to come with him, and we’ve been here ever since. We do visit my ranch whenever we have a chance, though.”
“Malcolm owns half the land up here. As a thank-you for my manual labor”—Dad gestured toward the roof as if he had something to do with fixing it, which was doubtful—“he gifted me some property.”
“Your cabin. Ah, now the pieces of the puzzle make sense.” Mya and her puzzles. Dad’s cabin was an easy one. The one she was about to try and complete involving The Collective was going to give me both an ulcer and a heart attack.
“Either of you have kids?” Mya asked after finishing her glass of wine.
I’d opted to stick to water. I had to be alert in case shit hit the fan again. And I didn’t trust that a few glasses of bourbon wouldn’t lower my walls again right after I’d just promised Mya they’d be remaining in place.
“No children,” Vanessa confirmed. “Work was our baby for a long time. I was a prosecutor in Atlanta for almost two decades, while this guy was flying jets for the military. Time just got away from us, as time tends to do.”
“I can relate.” Cindy refilled her glass and offered more wine to Mya, but she thanked her and declined. “Horses were always my kids.”
At the vibration in my pocket, I excused myself from the table as the conversation continued and checked the message. I’d already programmed a few numbers into the disposable phone Malcolm had given me, and it was a text from Carter.
Carter: Easton and Teddy disposed of the problem.
So, they killed the guy. I was okay with that given they’d been trying to take Mya from me.
Carter: I think it’s best if they join you tonight and you all head out together tomorrow.
I’d have to ask our hosts, but I doubted they’d mind having two more operators on hand to defend us in case our location was somehow compromised.
Me: Yeah, okay. Anything about Steve?
Carter: That’s the other reason I’m texting. Knowing he wouldn’t make it in time, he sent a friend to his mom’s house ahead of him. The place was on fire when his former SEAL buddy arrived. It was supposed to look like an accident from a kitchen fire.
Doubtful those types of orders from the Sorens were sent by a “carrier pigeon,” but a fucking phone call instead. I pinched the bridge of my nose, hanging my head. After giving myself a second to cool off, I read his next message.
Carter: They survived because of Steve’s friend. Pulled them out in time. Some bad burns, but they’ll be okay. Steve’s already taken them from the hospital before anyone can go after his mom and sister again. They’ll be going into hiding together.
Thank God for good news. I was still angry at Steve for risking Mya’s and Gwen’s lives, but it was hard to hate the man. Hadn’t I been in that same situation? Willing to take one innocent life to save another. At least Steve hadn’t actually had to take that life himself. If nothing else, I could be grateful he wouldn’t bear the same guilt I did.
Carter: You sure you’re up for this? Coming here, then possibly to Dubai?
That almost felt like the start of a borderline “feelings” conversation from him.
Me: Wasn’t this what you wanted from the beginning? When you arranged that trick to get me to Zurich last week in the first place? You’ve got me back.
Carter: But for how long?
My shoulders dropped from the bricks his question laid on top of them.
Me: For this mission only, and then I’m out.
Carter: Mya know that?
I turned toward the twelve-person rectangular table. Malcolm was at one head of the table and my father at the other. Mya’s soft laughter rolled through the room and had the hairs on the back of my neck standing. My dad managed to make her dimple pop with his lost-his-pants—quite literally—in-a-poker-game story.
I’d already heard that one too many times. But damn, Mya smiling and laughing after a day like today, had me wanting to hug my old man for making that happen.
I gulped, then texted Carter back.
Me: She knows.
I pin-dropped my location for him to give to Teddy and Easton, then pocketed the phone and made my way back to the table.
“You sure you don’t mind them coming here?” I asked after sharing what I’d learned from Carter.
Malcolm deferred to his wife, letting her answer. “Now wasn’t I just saying I’d like to host people?” she teased.
“Couples,” I reminded her. “A bit different than an Air Force pilot and Navy SEAL.”
Vanessa patted her husband’s arm, and he quickly removed his elbows from the table. “Nothing I can’t handle, trust me. We have plenty of bedrooms.”
My dad exchanged a look with Cindy before his gaze landed on me.
“Don’t start. It’s impolite to argue at the dinner table.” Cindy beat me to what I’d planned to say, and in a much more polished way.
“Nothing to start, seeing as we have no reason to argue about my coming with you tomorrow.” Dad casually swirled the amber liquor around in the crystal tumbler, and he lifted it from the table like it was all a done deal.
“Here we go.” I stood and about-faced, ready to flee the scene before I made one myself.
“If he wants to come . . .”
Was Mya really siding with him? I turned and glared at her, shocked, then caught a look at myself in the mirror on the opposite wall. I really did need to do something about my hair and beard before we left town. What’d Mya call me? Tarzan? “He’s not coming. End of story.”
“You could use the help.” Of course Dad stood as well, striding my way so he could remind me of that one inch in height he had on me. Some things never changed, even after all this time. “And what if you need a pilot for a helo?”
“Carter has two. Plus, we have Easton now.” I folded my arms, cementing my stance in our showdown. I wasn’t budging on this one. I already had Mya to worry about. I didn’t need my father getting caught in the crossfire again like he almost had that afternoon.
Ignoring the throb in my shoulder and the ache in my knee, and now lower back, I remained stiff, my head upright, as Dad continued to stare at me. He was dying to give me orders, to remind me he outranked me. Different branch, though. Different rules. And all that really went out the window when he walked out on our family, didn’t it? He’d helped me these last four months, but that didn’t fix him being gone half my life when I’d needed him.
I was faintly cognizant of plates being cleared and chairs moving, but I was locked into the moment, only one unanswered question burning through my mind. “Why didn’t you come back after Mom died? Tucker was gone. Mom. I was all alone.” The pain pushed through my voice, and I nearly choked on my own saliva.
Dad’s eyes thinned as he stared at me, and everything in the room went dead quiet.
“You had people. Julia was there for you, and?—”
“I needed you. I needed my father.” My eyes were now burning more than my shoulder as I did my best to keep it together.
He hung his head like I’d done so many times when I was leveled by something disappointing. “I didn’t think you’d want me around. I was worried I’d waited too long to come back and that you’d reject me. I was . . . scared.” Emotion throttled his tone to the bare minimum. “Tucker hated me so much. He blamed me for not saving her, and I know you did, too.” Eyes back on me, he worked his jaw to the left as if needing to crack it, but I knew he was trying not to cry. Same as me. “I don’t regret seeking revenge . . . but I do regret choosing it over my family.”