10. Masonry-related incontinence
Chapter 10
Masonry-related incontinence
TOMER
A soft knock at the front door makes Lettie flinch in my arms.
“Relax, sugar. We’ve got a guard out there, so I’m sure all is fine.”
Placing a reassuring kiss on her cheek, I glance at the front porch camera on my phone. As suspected, it’s the bodyguard currently on our perimeter detail. Looks like he’s holding something.
“It’s just Josh at the door. I’ll see what he wants. Probably the mail.”
She scoots to the side of the couch, allowing me to stand. Like always, I offer her my hand once I’m on my feet, giving her the option to come with me.
At some point, I suspect she’s going to try to linger farther away. I’ve been sensing it coming throughout the day. Ever since Freya left a few hours ago, Lettie’s been bolder, almost intentionally putting more space between us. It’s as if she’s testing herself.
As suspected, she shakes her head to wordlessly turn down my offer. That’s my strong girl.
She reaches for the remote. “Do you want me to pause the movie?”
“No. Keep watching. I’ll be right back.”
She offers only a tentative nod as she watches me amble toward the foyer. I flash her a wink before I turn to open the door.
Josh offers me a small stack of envelopes. “Mail call.”
“Thanks. All good out there?”
The corner of his mouth quirks. “There was a cat chasing a squirrel a few minutes ago. He didn’t get him. The squirrel is a wily one. I’ll include it on my report at the end of my shift.”
I’d rather he be bored than pulling out his weapon, but I’ll play along since I know how lonely fieldwork can be. “Let me know if he catches him. I’ll expect photos too.”
“Roger that. You’re the boss.”
With that, he turns on his heel to head to his post. He’s a good guard. On the younger side but reliable.
When I return to the couch, I plop the stack on the coffee table and check on my girl before going through it. Not so much as a worried wrinkle marring her beautiful face. Only fading bruises and a healing cut.
After giving her a quick kiss, I move to the edge of the sofa cushion and return to the mail pile. A small bubble mailer catches my focus, and I pull it to the top. Probably the roofie test straws I ordered. I need to get those to all the Redleg women.
Inspecting the package, I notice no return address, which is odd for a purchase. Postmarked yesterday with a local zip code. Definitely not the test straws.
My hackles rise, and a sense of foreboding settles on my shoulders, then slithers around my neck.
Glancing at Lettie, I offer an easy smile, concealing my apprehension.
I wonder what the chances are that this is rigged with an explosive. If so, it’s pretty damn small. Not to say it’s impossible, but it’s unlikely. Most charges or ignition sources are larger than this. Could be hazardous materials. A poisonous inhalant.
I can’t open this beside Lettie. And not without taking precautions.
She’s been so strong today; I’d hate for this to stress her out.
Mia’s words from earlier traipse through my mind.
You’re not alone.
Without drawing Lettie’s attention away from the movie, I text Josh, asking him to meet me on the front porch.
“Can I pop into the other room for something real quick, Lettie? Sixty seconds.”
She dips her chin in a leery agreement.
Before she has a chance to sense my mood shift, I bound from the couch and get supplies from my closet. On my way to the front door, I let her know I’m giving something to Josh. She looks calm. If not, she’s faking it well.
When I meet him at the door, I hand him the package. “Suspicious mail. Need you to handle so I don’t cause her any panic.”
“I don’t suppose you have any bomb gear here, huh?” He laughs, kicking his head back like he’s told a joke.
I narrow my eyes at him, shaking my head at his stupidity.
Of fucking course I have bomb gear here. This isn’t amateur hour.
Reaching down, I pick up the duffel of bomb gear I grabbed from my closet. After passing him the small bag of supplies, I instruct him to swab for explosives residue and open it in the open air and downwind in case it contains hazardous chemicals.
He looks at me dumbstruck for four long seconds before agreeing and springing into action. Once he heads off to handle it at a safe distance from the house, I return to the couch to check on my girl.
“What’s going on?” she asks, wringing her fingers.
Reaching for her lap, I cover her fidgety hands and give them a soft squeeze. “Everything is fine, sugar bear. It’s just some suspicious mail. I asked Josh to inspect it closer and open it for me. More than likely, it’s an unnecessary precaution.”
“Thank you for telling me,” she says in earnest. “It helps my anxiety to know you aren’t hiding things.”
Her words drive a barb into my chest. Yet I can’t let it show. Not when she needs my strength so desperately.
The conflict between wanting to be nothing but honest with her and being terrified of her finding out all I’ve done roars in my mind, deafening and paralyzing.
All I can do is nod at her, letting my face remain slack so I don’t reveal the desolation inside me.
Eventually, a knock at the door yanks me from self-recrimination mode. “Be right back.”
This time, she rises from the couch when I do.
Fuck.
Lettie and I open the door together, and Josh offers me the open package. “All clear.” He offers a nod to Lettie before retreating two steps backward.
I gave him strict instructions to stay clear of her unless necessary for her protection. The last thing I want is for her to feel uncomfortable in my home due to the presence of a man she doesn’t know. Josh has done a good job of that so far.
I give him a nod and take the package. “Thanks.”
My scalp prickles with unease as I peek inside.
A jump drive. That’s it. Nothing else included.
“That’s all that was in here?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
Judging by his expression, he’s as concerned about it as I am. Yet he’s not saying the words in order to protect Lettie’s mental health.
He’s surprising me with his tact and discretion. When shit settles down, I’ll have to put in a good word for him with Boss.
With his brows raised, he asks, “Anything else for now?”
The slight glance he makes in Lettie’s direction telegraphs his silent question. Want me to see what’s on it so you can stay with her?
As much as I’d love to take him up on that and pretend this package has nothing to do with me, I can’t bury my head in the sand.
“All good. Thanks, man.”
He purses his lips, nodding slowly in understanding. “I’ll be here if you need me.”
Closing the door, I carry the package into the foyer. Lettie’s previously calm demeanor has rapidly deteriorated over the last several minutes. I feel her eyes burning into the side of my cheek, but I’m weary to face her.
Not until I can steady myself.
She moves in front of me when I don’t accomplish that soon enough. “What is it?”
I could lie. Pretend it’s only something I ordered. Leave it at that. Hell, I could even show her the drive and tell her it’s something HQ sent to me.
Yet uttering one more untruth is steel wool rubbing my insides raw.
My indecision and non-response goes on too long, and she snatches the package from my hand. “Is this a USB drive?”
I drag my palm over my face, digging my fingertips along the sides to release the tense muscles. It doesn’t work.
“Yeah. It is.”
“Well, shouldn’t you look at it to see what’s on it?” She lowers her volume to an airy whisper. “Should we look at it?” Not only is fear woven into her voice, but it lingers behind her eyes.
I swallow around a newly formed lump in my throat while contemplating my response.
Yes, I need to see what is on this.
And yes, I’m going to look at it.
But no, I don’t want her to see it.
Not until I know that it won’t upset her.
“Sugar, we don’t know what it is. I’m going to check it out before I show it to you.”
Her vision darts across the room. Although she nods her approval, she steps backward and wraps her hands around her waist. “Where should I go while you do that? I think I’ve had enough alone time today.”
“How about you sit in the kitchen, and I’ll be here in the living room?”
She glances toward the kitchen. “As long as I can see you, I’ll be fine.” Straightening her spine, she raises her chin, attempting to project confidence that I know is shaky at best. “After all, I can’t be your shadow forever. Some distance would be good.”
Distance? That’s the last thing she needs right now.
Or is it? Is this one of those times where I should trust her judgment? Probably.
Seeming to grow sure of her decision, she relaxes her face into a gradual smile.
Drawn to touch her, I run the back of my knuckles along her cheek and down the side of her neck, taking care not to aggravate her injuries.
Same as every time since I carried her out of that house, I’m struck with conflicting emotions as my vision cascades over her beautiful face, still marred with the evidence of her suffering. The first is a powerful craving for vengeance. The other is an overwhelming sense of relief that she’s here with me, safe and healing.
And she’s still mine.
Lowering my lips to hers, I savor her sweet kiss. When our mouths converge, a soothing balm flutters over my skin, warming it like it’s bathed in pure sunshine.
Because that’s what Lettie is.
My heart swells, pressing against my rib cage and making my breath hitch.
I wish I knew words beautiful enough to greet her ears. I wish I had thoughts worthy of expressing what she means to me, how she’s changed me, and how I want to be a better man for her.
For the longest time, I’ve been waiting until she knew my real name before telling her that I loved her. After almost losing her, that no longer seems like a valid reason to hold back.
Now, something else stops me—she won’t believe me.
I know Lettie. She’ll think I’m only saying it because of what happened to her. Nothing could be further from the truth.
Even still, saying I love you isn’t nearly enough.
Love is said to come and go. It fades over time. What may begin as an all-consuming need that you think will last forever can be tarnished in an instant. One single act can strip away feelings you thought occupied every cell of your body.
If love can shatter so easily, then what I feel for her is not love.
It’s more.
Because there’s nothing she could ever think, do, or say to remove the imprint she’s made on my soul. Even if she hurt me the way that I will surely hurt her, she would still own my heart.
I could never feel anything less than utter adoration and wholeness being in her presence.
Never.
I break the kiss gradually, scanning every inch of her beautiful face. Although she’s told me she loves me—and I believe she does—I doubt her love for me could carry the weight of my sins. As pure-hearted as she may be, no one could love me enough to forgive all that.
No one will ever love you, boy.
Hell, it’s a miracle she’s come this far without growing tired of me or becoming disgusted with my presence.
Sadly, miracles like Lettie loving me have an expiration date. And I know my truth—or should I say my lies—will erode every fiber of that love.
Blinking clear of the tender moment, I attempt to refocus on the here and now instead of what looms.
“Sugar, I need to get a special laptop from my office. It’ll allow me to view what’s on the drive without compromising my network or other devices.”
I offer her my hand, and she follows me down the hallway. Moving quickly, I gather my dummy laptop and signal jammer. At the last second, I grab a pair of wired headphones, on the off chance that there’s audio in the file.
Once we return from my office with the supplies, I make her comfortable at the kitchen table, fixing her a snack of sliced cheese, crackers, olives, and a large glass of sweet tea.
“Okay, just holler if you need me, baby.”
Putting on a brave face, she tips her chin toward the living room. “Go on now. Get on with it.” She adds a flamboyant flip of her wrist to shoo me out.
Wearing a half grin, I kiss the top of her head and ease from the kitchen. Every few steps, I check over my shoulder to ensure she’s not panicking. Once I’m far enough away to have some privacy, I fire up the laptop.
This thing is essentially a shell of a machine. No Bluetooth, internet, or Wi-Fi access. Nothing. It’s not hooked up to my network and never has been. There’s almost nothing it can do.
On the bright side, it’s lightweight, which is good since I’ll be holding it while I keep one eye on Lettie. If I were to sit at the dining room table or coffee table, I wouldn’t be able to see her.
While it’s booting up, I set it on the floor and power on the signal jammer. It will temporarily disrupt all signals in the house and fuck up my Wi-Fi and cell service, but that’s a small price to pay to ensure this mysterious drive doesn’t launch some shit we’ll all regret. Even if it’s entirely unnecessary, given the laptop I’m using.
Impatience pulses through me as this beast powers on.
Lettie’s feigning nonchalance, but the bobbing knees and tense shoulders are a dead giveaway to her true state of mind.
“How are you holding up, sugar bear?”
She makes duck lips at me. “Nervous, but I ain’t shittin’ bricks or anything. How ’bout you?”
“No bricks here.”
“Well, that’s fan-fucking-tastic. I’m sure the maid will be pleased as punch to hear that neither of us got a sudden case of masonry-related incontinence. We’ve really got our shit together, huh?”
Who the fuck wouldn’t fall in love with that woman?
The signal jammer chimes, notifying me it’s operational. I take another steadying breath and plug the drive into the USB port.
It takes a moment for the device to recognize the drive and launch the folder. When it opens, there’s only one thing there.
A video file.
The title sends a chill down my spine: Since you like to watch.
My stomach twists and drops, bile slowly churning.
If this is what I think it is, I don’t give a fuck what I promised Mia. They will all die by my hands.
Every. Fucking. Last. One. Of. Them.
“Everything okay?” Lettie’s angelic voice calls from the kitchen.
I clear my throat, praying that when I answer, my tone doesn’t betray me. “Just getting it loaded up.”
“Is it a document?” Her volume lowers, and she adds, “Or is it something else?”
I keep my attention on the screen so she can’t see the dread clouding my vision.
“James?” she prods, far more tentative this time.
“I’m not sure what it is yet.”
That’s one lie I won’t feel guilty for. I absolutely refuse to tell her it’s a video.
After removing the headphones from my pocket, I plug them into the auxiliary jack on the laptop and discreetly slip one bud in my ear, hoping she doesn’t notice.
With my hand hovering over the trackpad, I hesitate to click play.
I need to steel myself before I watch it; otherwise, my expression will broadcast everything I’m struggling to conceal.
Reaching deep into my psyche, I open the metaphorical box that used to keep me protected from pain. From hurt. From hunger. From crippling loneliness.
No matter what appears on this screen, I cannot let her see the fury or the devastation.
She’s already lived it, and I won’t make her do it again.
With parts of me tucked safely inside that box, I meet her inquisitive gaze over the laptop and offer a semblance of a smile.
After all this time in the light with Lettie, it’s harder to mask my emotions than I recall.
My gaze veers reluctantly to the screen.
I hit play.
The four seconds it takes for the video to begin might as well be years. My heart thrashes wildly, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
And then the screen lights up with an image.
My heart, which was beating so wildly only seconds ago, stops.
It falls to the floor with a heavy thud.
I can’t breathe.
The images nauseate me.
And the sounds . . . the fucking sounds.
Her crying. Screaming. Begging.
My stomach contorts, twisting in tight knots, and my veins ice over.
I’ll kill them.
It takes a few moments, but I eventually recognize the man in the video. I saw him the night we rescued her. He’s a bouncer at Yuri’s strip club. The one Shep left bound and bleeding in a closet in Yuri’s office after forcibly extracting the prep house location from him.
Yevdokim Ivanovich.
Lots of letters. I hope they all fit on his motherfucking headstone.
That is... if there’s a body left to bury when I’m finished with him.
Unlikely.
I click the X in the top corner of the media player. I’ve seen more than enough of this disgusting video. I can’t force myself to watch the whole thing.
Not now.
Especially not with her looking at me.
From an early age, I learned to shore up my emotions. If I didn’t, there were harsh consequences.
I’ve had more practice suppressing my reactions than most Olympians spend preparing for their sport of choice.
And yet . . .
I swear to fuck that if I don’t expel some of this shit soon, I’ll explode.
This entire week has been a tsunami of emotions. Not just one massive wave, but row after row of them, pounding into me and stealing the air from my lungs. They’re relentless, only allowing for tiny moments of respite. Calm between the swells. They give me just enough time to find my footing. Then bam . Another one strikes.
And now this.
I need to act. Tonight. Now.
My fragmented thoughts attempt to find reason and logic in the chaos. The first step seems to be getting to Davidov before he’s in police custody, which should happen tomorrow. If I don’t interrogate him tonight, he’s going to be out of my reach. More than likely, I’ll lose my chance with Savin and Tasha too. They’ll be in WITSEC and off the grid soon.
Fuck.
But what about Lettie?
In my heart of hearts, I know she couldn’t handle it if I left her. And the last thing I want to do is abandon or upset her.
I’ve seen her suffer enough.
Her torment is so deeply ingrained into my psyche now I’ll never be able to scrub the memories away. The sickness it evokes is crippling.
There was only one other time in my life I’ve felt such a blinding agony. Only once was I this out of control.
And her father was there to drag me out of it.
If I could remember how he did it, I could pull myself out this time.
Not being able to go tonight is causing such a sharp pain down the middle of my torso that I could swear I was being ripped in two.
I count to ten.
One. Two. Three.
With each breath, I school my expression into an unaffected mask.
Nine. Ten.
Blinking, I glance in her direction, seeking out her sweet face.
For a moment, I envision what she looked like a million other times before this week. Doodling song lyrics on a notepad while humming to the music in her mind. Or listening to an audiobook while scratching her glitter pens across the pages of Southern Swears for Fucking Ladies coloring book. Or dipping her biscuit in gobs of honey and moaning as she savors each bite like it was her last.
I fucking need to see her smile. Need her to be unharmed.
Like she was before this nightmare.
Like she was before she met me.
But that’s not what I see.
Her eyes are shimmering, but with tears instead of happiness.
She rises on shaky legs and takes a few faltering steps in my direction before stopping and locking me in her haunted eyes.
It takes only four words falling from Lettie’s pillow-soft lips to make my promise to Mia explode into a fiery ball, turning to ash inside me.
“Which video was it?”