Chapter 5 #2
“Just teaching her some manners.” I kept my voice casual, with just enough edge. “She needs to wash up anyway. Made a mess of herself.”
Snake’s expression turned knowing. “Bet she did. They always do the first few times. The crying makes it better, doesn’t it?”
My hand itched to crush his windpipe, but I forced a laugh instead. “Yeah, but it got boring, so I started using a gag.”
He smiled. “Thought it had gotten a little quiet. Gags definitely have their uses.”
“Speaking of fun, how about some drinks in town tonight or tomorrow? I’m buying.”
Snake took a long drag, holding the smoke and studying me before releasing it toward the bathroom. “Change of plans. Oliver contacted us. We’re moving to the buyer site tomorrow.”
The words hit like ice water in my veins. That wasn’t supposed to be the timeline.
“Tomorrow?” I kept my voice level.
“Yep. Dawn.” Snake’s eyes never left the bathroom door. “You can bring the girl or get rid of her. Your choice. But Oliver doesn’t like distractions.”
Get rid of her. Four words that meant a shallow grave.
“I’ll handle it,” I said.
“I’m sure you will.” Another drag. “Though, if you’re done with her by tonight, I wouldn’t mind handling the situation for you. After I have a little fun, of course…”
The man had no idea how close to death he was at this second. “I’ll handle it,” I repeated.
He turned and walked away, each footstep deliberate. I closed the door, locked it, and leaned against it for a second, mind racing.
Fuck. I needed to reach out to my team, let them know about Mia and get the word out that Oliver had upped the timeline.
All communication went through Travis Hale, the Warrior Security tech wizard, who then passed it on to the feds.
Travis was the only one I trusted to make sure our transmissions weren’t discovered.
But any communication beyond my scheduled encrypted check-ins would risk detection.
So right now, Mia and I were on our own.
And running out of time pretty damned quick.
“You can come out,” I called softly.
She emerged from the bathroom, pulling her shirt back on with shaking hands. “I heard. No going into town like you planned.”
“It doesn’t matter. You’re getting out tonight. Through the bathroom window once it gets dark.”
She looked toward the bathroom, processing. “When?”
“Whenever things settle down. Hopefully they’ll be distracted by getting ready to leave early tomorrow.”
“Which direction?” She was already thinking tactically, not questioning the plan but working through the logistics. Of course she was. That was the Mia I’d always known.
“Southeast. Stay parallel with the road but keep to the trees. The moon’s three-quarters tonight—enough light to navigate without the flashlight.
” I went to my gear, pulled out a small waterproof flashlight.
“Take this anyway, but only use it if you’re injured or completely lost. Your eyes will adjust better without it. ”
She took the flashlight, testing its weight. “How far to town?”
“About eight miles. Moving carefully through the woods at night, it’ll take you four, maybe five hours. But you can make it.”
I grabbed a pen, took her arm gently, wrote two numbers on her forearm. “When you get to town, find a phone. Call Beckett Sinclair or Lachlan Calloway. Beckett’s my teammate at Warrior Security. Lachlan is the sheriff of Garnet Bend. Both of them know I’m undercover. They’ll protect you.”
I stepped back, looking at her as she studied the numbers. “I know you’ll want to call 9-1-1 and tell them everything that happened. And to be honest, I wouldn’t blame you.”
“What would happen if I did?”
“If you led them here, I would get arrested with everybody else in order to keep my cover. But it would probably mean I would lose my chance at meeting or stopping Julian Oliver. He would cut his losses with all of us and find other people for his crew.”
But still, I wouldn’t blame her. As much as I didn’t want my six weeks of undercover hell to be for nothing, I would totally understand if she called 9-1-1 the second she got herself to a phone.
“I’ll call your friends, not the cops.”
“Thank you. I’ll stall these guys as long as I can. Say you’re sick, locked in the bathroom. Buy you time.” I moved closer. “You’ll need to move fast but carefully. No injuries. Follow the road from the trees. Don’t stop for anything.”
The weight of everything pressed down on us. Eight miles through dark woods. Snake checking. Diesel wanting his turn. Oliver showing up early. A hundred ways to die.
“We should rest,” I said. “You’ll need energy.”
But neither of us could sleep. After an hour of lying rigidly side by side, close enough to feel each other’s tension but not touching, I gave up.
“How about more self-defense practice?”
We went through the moves again, and she was getting it.
She’d always been nimble—I remembered her doing yoga in our apartment, that flexibility serving her now as she learned to slip out of holds.
The fire was back in her eyes as she successfully broke free, twisted away, drove her elbow into my solar plexus with real force.
She wasn’t over yesterday—her flinches told me that—but she was strong. She’d always been strong. It was one of the reasons I was in love with her.
No. Had been in love with her. Past tense now.
The day crawled by. We made all the sounds the guys expected. By afternoon, Mia had fresh bruises but also knowledge. How to break free. How to fight. It wasn’t nearly enough, but at least it was something.
And it kept those assholes on the other side of the wall entertained with what they were imagining was happening in here. The only time I left the room was to find us a little more food.
As darkness finally painted the Montana sky purple-black, the moment arrived. The compound had settled—Tommy’s video games, Diesel’s drunken laughter, Snake cleaning weapons with methodical precision.
I stood close to Mia in the dimming light, close enough to see fear and determination in her eyes. Close enough to catch that vanilla scent one last time.
“It’s time,” I whispered.
She nodded, then surprised me by stepping closer, her hand on my chest. “Ryan—”
I couldn’t help myself. I cupped her face and kissed her like a drowning man gasping for air.
Desperate and apologetic and final. Every regret, every moment of missing her, every night I’d reached for her and found empty space—all of it poured into that kiss.
When we pulled apart, we were both shaking.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice rough. “For all of this. For everything. Now and six years ago. For being too broken to stay and too much of a coward to explain.”
“Ryan—”
“Go have a wonderful, happy life,” I cut her off. “Find someone who deserves you. Have those kids you wanted. That house with the garden. Be happy.”
There was so much more burning in my chest to say. That I’d never stopped loving her. That leaving her was the hardest thing I’d ever done, harder than combat, harder than watching friends die.
But those words would only hurt her more.
“Be careful,” she whispered, and I could see she understood. We both knew we’d probably never see each other again.
One more kiss, softer this time, salt-sweet with tears. A promise and an ending, the final sentence in a love story that had ended years ago, way before it should have.
Then I led her into the bathroom. The window was above the toilet, barely big enough for a child. She’d have to push through shoulders first, then twist her hips. It would be uncomfortable, painful with her bruises, but freedom waited on the other side.
I helped her onto the toilet lid, hands steady on her waist, then boosted her to the window and she pushed herself through, dropping to the ground outside with a soft thud that sounded like finality.
I climbed up and leaned out the opening as far as I could, caught one last glimpse of her in the darkness. She looked back once, her face pale as bone in the moonlight, and I saw my own heartbreak reflected there. Then she was gone, swallowed by the trees and the night.
Relief, guilt, and sorrow burrowed deep.
Mia being safe was the most important thing. That was all that mattered.