35. Mya
SWISS-GERMAN BORDER
35
“Two attempts, Mya, two fuc—” Oliver cut himself off and slapped the now visible vein at the side of his neck.
We were in the back seat of a blacked-out Range Rover. Teddy and Easton were in the vehicle behind ours, and Carter and Jesse were in the other one in front. They had us boxed in like we were the prize to protect. There were also two armed men in the driver and front passenger seats of our vehicle, courtesy of The Sapphire. There was also a Reaper over our heads. I only knew of the armed drone because of the precision strike I’d witnessed twenty minutes earlier. That guardian angel took out the kill team sent to try and intercept us before we could arrive.
I’d been resistant to having people I didn’t know and trust chaperone us on our trip to the hotel. But The Sapphire took their concierge service to the next level, proving they had all their guests’ backs, quite literally.
Somehow, watching those three vehicles blow up didn’t rattle me. Go figure.
It had shaken up Oliver, though, especially since there’d been a prior attempt made against us before we’d made it to the airport back in Canada.
His smiles and oddly unbothered attitude from before had gone out the window when we wound up pinned down en route to the airport.
Oliver, Teddy, and Easton had taken down that hit squad with almost the same precision as the Reaper had. Oliver had also put one in a guy’s head just before we took off, joining me in the back seat as he used his T-shirt to wipe the splattered blood from his face.
Realizing Oliver had no plans to continue his line of thought or his curse, I did my best to hit reset on the conversation. “How about you start that sentence again, but without both your voice and your blood pressure raised?” I averted my attention away from him and out the window, taking in the view of the Rhine River. We’d just passed through Schaffhausen, a Swiss town near the German border, and we were a few minutes away from being on safe ground. Well, presumably “safer” ground than where we were in the no-man’s land surrounding The Sapphire.
“They don’t care about keeping you alive anymore, and that was the only reason I was able to tolerate the idea of you coming on this field trip with me.”
Field trip? “Well, thankfully I have you to keep me alive since I wasn’t banking on the Sorens to protect me.” I tried not to be snarky, but out it came. I also had to choose my words carefully since we had two outsiders up front.
I’d nicknamed them in my head Jekyll and Hyde—no idea why—and despite the fact they’d yet to speak any English, I figured they spoke multiple languages and understood us perfectly. Most Europeans did.
“You should not be here.” Oliver’s ability to state words as if they each had their own punctuation mark at the end had become an art form over the last twenty-four adrenaline-fueled hours.
Of course, given our situation, I could hardly blame him. I’d done the panicking pre-skydive the other day, and he was taking over the anxiety reins now.
“Yet, here I am.” I swiveled around in the seat, wondering if I needed to take a softer approach instead of my typical reaction to fight fire with fire. “Everything will work out, or Camila would’ve told Carter, right?”
I didn’t understand the prophetic visions Carter’s sister-like best friend had, but considering how many times Camila had saved our lives because of them, I was a believer. And since Camila had yet to alert us to danger, I was going to cling to the hope we’d be okay. I’d ride the calm train as long as possible, at least.
I unbuckled and reached between us for his leg, attempting to redirect him before the vein at the side of his neck actually popped. “How’s your knee? Shoulder?”
“You can’t deflect your way out of this one,” he rasped.
“I can certainly try.” I attempted a smile, along with an innocent shrug. “Would it help distract you if I’m the one on edge and falling apart instead?”
“I’m not falling apart,” he grumbled, the insult from my remark cutting lines across his forehead. “And how are you so calm after a drone just blew up three vehicles of bad guys trying to kill us?”
“Because they didn’t get a chance to kill us, and I’m also just . . .” Tired? Literally, maybe from jet lag. Also, very much figuratively.
Oliver reached for my hand on top of his leg and gently squeezed it before moving it to my leg and letting go. Adding insult to injury, he noted, “I can’t share a bedroom with you at this hotel. A suite with adjoining rooms has been arranged. You’ll be with Sydney. Two queen beds. I’ll be by myself in the other bedroom.” He’d spoken so matter-of-factly, like an officer handing out quartering orders.
“Way to deflect right back.” I also knew his whiplash change in conversation was for his benefit, not mine. He was trying so desperately to power up that limo window between us, and ignore the fact the button was broken. “But yeah, okay, sure. Separate rooms is fine with me.” I’d give him that victory. Distract him with a little compliance while I worked behind the scenes to figure out a way to keep him out of some Mortal Kombat matchup with Hugo Soren.
“Okay?” His shock powered up that word, nearly turning it into three syllables. “I’m sorry, but what?” He looked left, then right, exaggeratedly twisting his whole body. “Would the real Mya please stand up?”
He really was right the other night when he’d said it was effortless to slip back into the past and just be ourselves around each other. Our BT-selves. This act of his, where he tried to convince us both that after the showdown with our archenemy ended, we couldn’t be together, was ten times harder for him to stick to. You never were a great actor.
He blew out his cheeks and settled face forward in his seat as we rolled up to the gates of the property. “In general, we should keep our distance while here, too.” He was trying to stamp out my hope, understanding he’d accidentally been his old self again.
“Oliver?”
Refusing to give me his full attention, he turned to look at me over his shoulder, the forlorn look in his eyes unmistakable.
“You’re trying so hard not to be yourself with me.” In a soft voice, I couldn’t help but whisper, “If something is that hard to do, maybe it’s time you ask yourself if it’s the wrong thing to do.”
Inside Carter’s suite in the wing on the seventh floor, Mason nearly knocked Sydney over as he rushed to get to me. His nostrils flared as he stared at me, waiting—and hoping—for me to give him permission to touch me.
I nodded, and he crushed me against him, nearly forcing the pent-up air in my lungs from my mouth. I rested my chin on his shoulder as he hugged me, catching sight of Oliver as he followed Carter and Jesse around us, heading to where the rest of the team quietly stood waiting for us.
Gray and Jack had beat us to the hotel, same with Gwen and Wyatt, and they were currently greeting Oliver while Mason continued to squeeze me to death.
“Sorry,” Mason whispered in my ear. “I heard about the Reaper incident, and I’ve just been worried as fuck about you.” He let go of me and held the sides of my arms as his brows drew together. “You’re able to . . .”
“Touch again.” I swallowed back the emotion trying to choke me up as I peered around him at the reason, at Oliver.
Mason released me and twisted to the side, following my gaze. “I’m glad he could help,” he said, his comment catching me by surprise.
“Mind if I have a turn?” Sydney teasingly elbowed Mason aside and drew me in for a hug next.
The whole me-keeping-my-shit-together routine en route from the airport may have been an act, because the second my best friend held on to me, I nearly broke down and sobbed into her shoulder.
“You need a minute before facing everyone else?”
“Yes.” I nodded, blinking back tears, the room becoming a blur.
Sydney wordlessly led us into one of the bedrooms. Door shut, I leaned against it and immediately slid down to the floor, my legs giving out. I didn’t want to spiral again, though. I wanted my backbone and my resolve to remain. I’m Mya-Freaking-Van . . .
Remembering my last name, and the fact it belonged to my father who was probably in league with the enemy, stopped my thought cold. I’d done my best to act as unbothered about that as possible, but that was utter BS. Of course it was devastating.
Sydney sat next to me, hooking her arm around my shoulder as I revealed my nightmare-memories, cluing her in to more details I hadn’t shared on the web call with the team.
“I’ve been running my whole life.” I swiped at the tears on my cheeks with the backs of my hands. “But what was I running from back then? Who was I running from?”
“We’ll figure it out, I promise.” She continued to hold me, giving me the time I needed to pull myself together without pushing me to talk again, knowing I’d do it when I was ready. She was always much more patient than I was.
“Oliver’s . . .” Where was I going with that thought? What would I even say about him? “He helped me, and we reconnected.” Balling my hands into fists, I used them to remove the rest of my tears and then worked to stand.
Sydney helped me to my feet, then, holding my arms the way Mason had in the living room, she met my eyes. “I noticed he helped you. Mason was able to hug you. That’s huge. And I’m glad you two reconnected.”
“Not totally connected,” I added while sniffling, squashing any of her assumptions that we’d slept together. “He’s trying so hard to resist his feelings. To focus solely on revenge. And I’m worried he’s going to get himself killed.”
“Well, we won’t let that happen, and you know it.”
I clung to the confidence in her tone and held on to it as tightly as possible. We talked for a few more minutes, and when I worked up the nerve to rejoin the team, the conversation we interrupted was not what I wanted to hear. Hellos were backburnered as I tried to make sense of what I’d walked into.
“Rewind. Restart,” I sputtered. “Find new words.” My attention volleyed back and forth between Carter and Oliver despite the fact the entire team was there. “You can’t possibly be considering this plan.”
When did Oliver come up with it? I knew he wanted to face off with Hugo himself, but I’d had hope Carter and Gray would close the door on that idea.
“What’s going on?” Sydney asked, and Gray tipped his head, gesturing her over to him to have a word. Not encouraging.
I went over to Gwen, gave her a hug, then quickly nodded my hellos to everyone hoping it would encourage someone to hurry up and speak. Preferably retract the conversation that’d occurred while I’d been absent from the room. Because of course Oliver would choose that time to share his plan.
“Well?” I blurted, goose bumps covering my body while chills rolled down my spine with every passing nervous moment no one talked. “This is not happening.”
I stabbed the air when Carter merely swapped glances with Jesse instead of speaking. Oliver remained dead quiet. And why would he speak? He’d already won the team over. The same team he’d said he didn’t want to be part of anymore.
“Come on.” I did a three-sixty, scanning the room for an assist. “Jack, say something.” Nada. Just great. “Mason?”
Mason gave me an apologetic look and surrendered his palms in the air. “It’s a solid plan. Kills both birds with one stone.”
“I don’t want to hear about freaking birds anymore,” I deflected, doing my best to keep myself from falling apart. After all, I’d been working too hard to keep it together to fail now.
Carter cut across the room, the rest of the team, aside from Oliver, stepping aside to give the man space to convince me of the un-convincible.
Oliver faced the door, locking his fingers together at the nape of his neck while lowering his head. He couldn’t look me in the eyes while Carter laid out the plan he’d already delivered when I wasn’t present to argue against it. I’d only caught the tail end of it, but that was enough for me to know I wasn’t a fan.
“Can you give the four of us a minute?” Carter asked without budging from his fixed stance.
Which four?
A few awkward throat clears later, the room cleared out except for Carter, Oliver, Jesse, and myself. Oliver had yet to grant me his eyes, but Jesse folded his arms, standing alongside Carter to confront me.
“We’ve been trying to map out a guaranteed plan to ensure my offer to Nicholas Barbier for the hotel is accepted,” Carter began, his deep voice carrying through the room. “Oliver’s idea is a good one. Given what I know about Nicholas, and what we know about Hugo Soren’s love of both fighting and betting, this idea makes the most sense to try.”
I quickly rushed out my own counterattack. “Why can’t you be sure to outbid the Sorens, then we bait them away from here? It doesn’t need to be on that island. We have something huge hanging over their heads now that we’ve figured out their place with The Collective. We can threaten them with that. Draw them out pretty much anywhere.”
I’d spent a good part of the flight mulling over ideas of how to prevent Oliver from ever stepping inside a ring with Soren. I was ready to go, I just thought I’d have a minute to get settled in before laying out my points.
“The Sorens have more money than I do,” Carter admitted. There wasn’t much bitterness to his tone about that fact, though. More of an It is, what it is kind of thing. “I can’t outbid them if they drive the price too high. But I do know money isn’t everything to the owner. He cares about the reputation of the new owner as much as he cares about his own. He’ll want to sell it to someone he feels is deserving. If we offer him a fight like this, he’ll bite, I’m sure of it.”
Why I was looking to Jesse for help was beyond me. He was clearly in the room to help convince me of the same idea, but I did anyway. “Please, say something,” I pleaded to him since Oliver wouldn’t look at me. “Why are you letting Oliver fight? That’s your area of expertise.” I gestured between Jesse and Carter. “You two have the highest kill count on the team, and when it comes to hand-to-hand combat, you’re?—”
“The Sorens know who we all are now. They’ll know what I did for a living before Falcon. And Carter’s reputation is . . . well, Carter is Carter.” Jesse nodded as if that cleared things up, but then hit me with information I hadn’t considered. “Hugo’s father won’t put him in the ring with us, but he’ll put him in the ring with the man he blames for their plan falling apart.”
“Me.” Oliver slowly lowered his hands to his sides and faced us. “Hugo started this with me, and it’ll end with me.”
“We offer Nicholas this fight, and the loser has to back out from the bid. Not that the fight really matters, we’re just using it to bait the Sorens to that island. Setting them up for the final war,” Jesse added. “And we’re telling them that upfront.”
I blinked, because surely I’d misheard him. “You’re telling the Sorens you plan to challenge them all after the matchup between Hugo and Oliver, regardless of who wins the match?”
“You said we had to stop hiding and face them head-on, to do something different, didn’t you?”
Way to use my words against me, Oliver. “That isn’t what I meant, and you know it. Plus, don’t we lose the advantage of surprise by telling our enemy what we’re going to do?”
Oliver stared at me for a few quiet moments as if waiting for me to . . .
Ohhh. I wasn’t usually the one who had to play catch-up when it came to reading between the lines, but it took me a few moments to understand why the Sorens would walk into a trap knowing full well it was one. Once we told them what we knew about them, their options would be limited. They’d have a choice to make, but would they make the one we hoped for? Sophie’s-Freaking-Choice all over again.
This plan still meant Oliver would need to step into a ring with Mr. Bloodsport, though, and that part of the plan terrified me.
“Why not use that leverage we have against the Sorens in a different way?” I had to try one more time to prevent this fight from happening. “Skip buying the hotel altogether and force the Sorens to meet us somewhere else?”
“We could try that, but I think we run a greater risk of the Sorens not taking the bait.” Carter crossed the room, standing closer to me. “If I can convince the hotel owner to be a mediator of sorts between us and the Sorens for our showdown, there’s a better chance of the Sorens actually showing up instead of cutting and running after we confront them. We’re offering them a level playing field so they think they have a shot at survival.”
“If the Sorens go into hiding after what we tell them we know, our lead is fucked.” Jesse chose to take the state-the-obvious lead that time, something I appreciated and knew too well, since that tact was normally my go-to.
“And the Sorens going off-the-grid is definitely a possibility once we play the hand we have with them at the party.” I understood, but regardless, I hated the plan. “But we have no choice but to play it, so . . .”
“We’re giving them a choice,” Oliver murmured, locking eyes with me. “And as far as I’m concerned, it’s a much better one than they gave us in Thailand, and they’ll see that.” He nodded. “They’ll choose what feels like the impossible, because it’s the only way.”
My shoulders fell. Just like you did.