CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
TY
W e’re back at the house. I ushered a fragile shell of my girl inside, drew her a hot bath, set a few things up, and rushed outside to talk briefly with the guys. All three of us stripped off our phones and earpieces—anything that could be bugged.
“Something’s not fucking right,” I hiss, and Gage barks a humorless laugh.
“No fuck. We’re up to our eyeballs in some shit we can’t see,” he whisper-growls. “That felt like a goddamn setup.”
“Maybe,” I concede, considering all the twisted events of the evening. “She did get spotted by that lady, which could have set everything in motion early. But what concerns me more is that she looked rocked when I saw her on the roof before that.”
Liam whips out his Zippo, clanking it open and closed in a far quicker rhythm than usual. “Did you ask what rattled her?”
“Yeah,” I huff. “I told her over and over she could tell me anything, but she maintained she was just startled, afraid she had to shoot someone.”
“That’s a lie,” Liam insists. “She was more than willing to hold the personal shopper at gunpoint at the dress shop when the Skulls bombed it. I guarantee she would’ve shot her. She was upset, but only about Ivy and Celeste being taken. I don’t buy that she’d give a shit at all about killing someone, if warranted.”
“Me neither,” I agree.
The Noires trained her for this world—even though they didn’t want her to partake in it.
“Regardless, I’d like to know why the whole goddamn city was swarming us,” Gage snipes.
Liam scrubs his hand over his mouth. “Ty’s right. It could’ve been the woman Rena ran into. The seven-minute time frame we were alerted to would align with that. If that was all. But someone inside, rummaging through shit at the same time we were ordered to be there, that’s suspect.”
“We weren’t given an exact time, only a window, so that could be coincidental.” I pause there for a beat, mulling it over. “Fuck that actually. There’s no way.”
“You know I don’t fucking quit,” Gage says, instantly chilling my bones. He’d never suggest calling it unless he believed we were trapped. “But I gotta wonder if you two weren’t supposed to make it out of there. The cleaners showed up early last night too. No mention of the security beams in the instructions. If we had gone back for the smoker, you’d have been trapped inside. We’ve fucking been here before.”
By that, he means, unknowingly walking into an ambush, securing the goods at the expense of our lives. That’s essentially what happened in our final SEALs mission. We weren’t expected to make it out. We were a sacrifice for the cause. And when we beat the odds, we became an asset the government was thrilled to keep as a secret weapon. Gage still carries a lot of bitterness over the ins and outs of his Navy days, so this hits too close to home .
“That’s all valid,” I concede. “None of this has been as clean as KORT work generally is, but who the fuck knows what we’re facing since we aren’t permitted any details? Either Balzano is fucking with us because he figured out what we did or there’s something KORT wants. And you’re right. It’s obviously worth our lives—”
“You’d think the other chairs would suspect if it was Balzano,” Liam contends. “And if they did, they’d pull us, alert us, or go after him. If we’re still in the dark, it’s because they were anticipating these issues and are in agreement that we continue.”
“That’s the problem,” Gage growls. “I’m all for their mindfucks. Makes sense because fuck knows, I don’t trust anyone. Ensuring their officials can handle the heat is justifiable. But this shit … if the last two close calls are any indication, we’ll be lucky if we don’t go home in body bags after the next one. So, fuck them. Time to be reborn.”
“It’s not that easy,” I snap. “It’s not just us anymore. They already fucking own her. If we disappear, her brothers are dead, and I can’t … she’ll be alive but broken.”
“Axel wouldn’t want you to risk her life to protect him,” Liam argues, snicking his lighter so the clinks and clanks blare into the still night. “They’ve got their own defenses in place.”
Gage nods, arms crossed over his chest. “Damn straight.”
“Wells would back us up on that too,” Liam tacks on, his hazel eyes serious. “No way he or Ivy knew what you’d be facing. One call to the Murphy line, and it all ends. None of the Noires would want us to risk it.”
My teeth clench because they don’t get it. As much pain as they’d endured, they managed to start fresh. Baggage, yes, but it penetrated them differently. It wasn’t escorted by guilt, by the kind of torment that eats away at your soul with every breath you take.
A beating heart but dead inside. An identity that never gets erased.
As tough as Rena is and as much as she strives to live in the moment, that loss would decimate her spirit. If anything happens to any of her brothers because of this, she’ll always harbor that shattering guilt. I won’t inflict that on her.
When she told me the story about the last real encounter with her father a couple of weeks ago, I felt enraged because she was answering a question about food aversions and nonchalantly slipped that in. And I watched her go hollow. Nearly two decades later, and his words of not enough still dim her light. It makes me want to dig up his bones and burn him all over again. This would be her kettle-corn nightmare realized—failing the whole family line. There’s no way she’d emerge unscathed from that. It would change her and us.
“I’m not protecting them,” I volley, my voice quavering as my arm flings through the air. “It’s her. She’s so full of life. I will not be the choice she made that cost her everything—her family, her soul, her sanity.” I drag my hand over the scruff on my jaw. “I promised her that I wouldn’t let this rob her of anything, that I would get us through this, so I will get her through this even if it fucking kills me.”
“Ty,” Liam sighs, pausing as though he can’t find the right words, his Zippo flame billowing in wait. “We’ve got you. You’re never alone. Let’s just sleep on it.”
Gage echoes the sentiment with, “Always, brother.”
“I know you do. Tonight was a fucking mess. I need time to think things through.” I smack them both on the back as I start for the door. “Sleeping it off is a good idea.”
They murmur some other encouragement, but I’m too in my head to absorb it.
Crunch. Squeak. Blood. One wrong choice.
The flickers of torment whiz by, flashes of all that was lost and all that can still be taken.
No. She needs me to be strong. I can’t fucking fall apart. I’ll figure it out. I’ll figure it the fuck out.
My internal mantra is upended by a Post-it Note on the bedroom door. She must have snuck out here before her bath to stick it there .
PSA: We’re not hating ourselves anymore. That bullshit is so yesterday.
XO,
The badass who made that jump her bitch
I chuckle and spot another one plastered to the wall near the bathroom.
Tonight was rough. You were somber at the end. Maybe I was too. I’ve allotted us each twenty minutes to mope. Then, you need to get your sweet ass in here and fuck me.
XO,
The naked one in the tub
I cherish all her notes, but these are especially apropos with what I have planned.
She’s submerged beneath a tub of bubbles when I step into the bathroom, her head propped against a spa pillow, her hair spun into a messy knot, eyes shut as she hums along to a song trilling from her phone. Her bag of butterscotch candy rests on the flat seat behind her—the telltale sign of her distress.
After twisting the shower on full blast to muffle some of the noise in a move of extra precaution—even though I thoroughly swept our bathroom and bedroom for any transmitters when we got home—I sit on the edge, dip my hand in the warm water, and trickle my fingers over her. Beginning with a trail up her long, silky legs, dipping into the apex of her thighs to lightly graze her pussy, scratching over the flat plane of her stomach and ribs, and emerging in the valley between her magnificent tits.
It’s astounding to me how she’s become such an anchor, quieting the racket in my mind. Maybe it was always that way. I just didn’t permit myself to bask in the peace she provided, always maintaining enough distance between us so I wouldn’t fuck up and cross that line. I’m still convinced plundering the tranquility from her is among my greatest sins. But now, I don’t know how I survived without her. She told me she’d keep us afloat, and I didn’t believe her, but she’s doing it. One note, one touch, one smile at a time.
I tweak her nipples and jostle the bars the way she likes.
Her lips hike up in a lazy grin, and those gorgeous hazels finally pop open. “Miss me, sailor? Come to take what’s yours?”
All mine.
“Sometimes, I miss you even when you’re with me,” I admit. An urgent need to share everything surges through my veins.
She slides her hand over mine in the water, securing both to her breast, but returns her gaze to me. “Why is that? What’s going on up there?”
“As soon as I touch you, my head quiets. My head hasn’t been quiet for …” My breath shudders out with the truth I’m of fering—she’ll never understand what a miracle she is. “Not since that night.”
“I get that,” she breathes, her eyes dulling for a brief beat before she widens them in an attempt to conceal it. “Mine has been busy too. Not in the same way, but … everyone has always protected me, which makes sense because I’m the youngest. The only girl. We lost our parents. It’s been a lot. But all I’ve ever wanted was to be the person who was strong enough to hold others’ burdens, who brightened the day, the one who people could turn to.” She swallows and rolls her lips together. “You’re not the only one healing here, Ty. The way you’ve let me in, your nickname for me—it’s everything. And the way you guys have allowed me to stand beside you instead of behind you, means more than I can say.”
It seems we’re both reflective after the intensity of our evening.
“Good.” My fingers cruise lower, roaming back between her thighs to circle her clit in a teasing rollick. “That’s all I want, to be your safe place. So, you’re okay? Nothing weighing on you from tonight?”
She shakes her head, peering at the foamy water, but the arduous roll of her throat screams that she’s uncomfortable, and since her thighs have fallen open further, it has nothing to do with what my fingers are working on. “A little nervous about tomorrow, I guess. But two down, so I’d prefer to only think about that. Almost done.”
“There’s nothing more you want to talk about?” I probe while perusing her opening. “You got scared on that roof.”
She situates her head on the pillow, gripping on to any relaxation she can gather, her eyelids fluttering closed again. “You already asked me about that. No point in replaying all the nonsense from tonight. It’s over. Let’s live in the moment.” A wispy purr sails past her lips. “I’m loving this moment.”
Avoidance. Could be pain or fear. Could be she’s hiding something. My gut churns. I’m betting on the latter. And although she wouldn’t spill openly if it was something she needed kept private—in case we have listening ears—I instructed her in the truck to simply use her eyes to alert me to the need for a covert discussion. So, closing them effectively shuts it all down.
“Every second with you is a gift.” My fingers plunge and flick and swirl until her lips are parted, her chest is heaving, and I know she’s teetering on the edge, dazed enough by the sensations that I might procure an opening. “But we can’t ignore the reality of our circumstances. The next job could be a lot worse. You’re good to continue?”
Her thick lashes flit upward, her features instantly stony, orgasm abandoned. “There is no other option but to go on.”
Everything I said outside rings through that statement. She doesn’t care what we’re trudging into; she’ll risk her life for her brothers without hesitation. Aside from how shattered her soul would be if she let them down—that’s a compelling reason to continue. How could we do anything other than support her unwavering loyalty? There is no greater character trait.
So, I remove my hand, lean over, clutch her chin, and kiss her forehead. “Of course that’s what we’ll do.” Shifting to the flat seating area behind her, I unravel her hair, letting it cascade in a matted mess below her shoulders as I reach for her shampoo. “I’m going to wash your hair, fuck you senseless, cook you a good meal, and put you to bed. That’s all you need to think about right now.”
She rolls her face up to me, beaming, eyes twinkling, with a smile that illuminates the whole damn world. “I like that plan. You gonna sleep with your big ol’ dick inside me tonight?”
“Always, baby girl. Sit up a little.” I use the faucet attachment to warm up the water and wet her hair. Squirting a dollop of her berry-scented shampoo into my palm, I lather up her tresses, working it into her scalp with slow, kneading strokes from her temples to the base of her skull to alleviate her stress .
She moans, pressing against my fingers. “Jesus, Ty. Where the fuck did you learn to do this? You know what? Never mind.” She flaps her hand in the air, spraying bubbles and droplets of water all over my lap and the floor. “If it was from a woman, don’t tell me.”
A melancholy chuckle tumbles from my lips, masking the emotion lodged in my throat. “It was from a woman, but one I wish you knew. She would have loved you. My mom was a hairdresser.”
Reaching her hand over, she squeezes my thigh, her fingers trembling a little with the gesture. “She taught you well.”
“She did,” I agree, massaging for several more minutes before rinsing, adding her leave-in conditioner, and combing out the strands. “I’ve never told anyone that. Not in this life.”
It’s the reason I haven’t washed her hair like this before now. I couldn’t bear to field questions, but now, I don’t want anything between us.
Tears are streaming down her cheeks when she glances over at me, her chin quivering through a strained smile. “Thank you,” she whispers.
I swipe my thumb over her cheekbone, catching the drippings of anguish that are far more restorative for me than she could fathom. “Everything I am is yours, Little Moon. I told you that. There is nothing— nothing —I won’t do for you.”
She nods, but seems to have lost her words, so I plant a peck on her temple and grant her a few minutes to herself.
“You relax a little while longer. I’m going to take a quick shower.” I strip off my clothes, pluck hers off the floor, and stash them all in the hamper.
I’m so eager for the next events that I manage to get in and out of the shower in three minutes flat. Wrapping a towel around my waist, I saunter to the sink to brush my teeth, catching sight of the note she left a few days ago above the hole I had punched in the wall. Notes .
The first reads:
You still haven’t fixed this hole. Are you expecting me to do it?
XO,
The Little Moon who has all sorts of hidden talents (Just you wait)
Followed by the next that she stuck over the duct tape she used to cover up the hole.
Done. You’re welcome.
XO,
The handy one (Cue dramatic curtsy)
A smile tickles my lips as I organize her lotions and makeup and line my toothbrush with toothpaste, finally gazing at her in the mirror. “When we’re all done with our plans and you’re resting, snug against me, you’re going to look me in the eye and swear to me that there’s nothing more I need to know.”
Her head snaps up, her eyes locking on to me. “We already covered that.”
“We did,” I allow, brushing and spitting for a minute while she waits for me to finish. “But I need to be certain that you trust me with anything— everything . That you believe I can navigate this for us. You want to stand beside us, baby, and we all love having you there. You belong with us. But there are no secrets in that line.”
“True north, Ty,” she rasps, her voice like gravel. “I trust you more than anyone. I need you to trust my judgment too.”
She says as much between her words as Wells. There’s a confession to something mixed in there. Maybe she was instructed not to share whatever she saw on the roof. Although I can’t fathom how that could be. I suppose it does come down to trusting her. She’s been brilliant through every step of this, and she’s never given me another reason to question her.
Deciding to let it lie for now, I swagger toward the bedroom, gripping the molding and peering back at my wife before I cross the threshold. “Rena, when you come out here, I expect you to be naked and on your hands and knees for me.”