Chapter 11 #2
Running it now. You okay?
Fine. He’s not.
A pause.
Ronan. Don’t start a war before we’re ready to finish one.
He pocketed the phone and drove toward the town hall.
He was done being careful.
Lila's office door was closed when Ronan arrived.
He knocked twice. Heard her voice, tight and controlled, call out for him to enter.
She was standing at the window with her back to the door. Her shoulders were rigid. Her hands, clasped behind her, were trembling.
"What happened?"
She didn't turn around; her voice was barely above a whisper. "Warren called. Twenty minutes ago."
Ronan shook his head and motioned for her to follow him.
As they stepped into the hallway, he held his finger to his lips and continued walking to the exit.
After stepping outside, he turned to face her.
Her face was pale. Her jaw clenched so tight he could see the muscle jumping.
Her brows bunched together as she stared into his eyes. “Why?”
“In case your office is bugged.” He waited a beat for her to process that information, then asked. "What did he say?"
"He wants to have lunch tomorrow. Just the two of us." Her voice was flat, mechanical. "He said he has something important to discuss. Something about my future in this town."
"The council seat."
"That's what I thought. At first." She turned to face him, and the look in her eyes made his chest tighten. Not fear. Something worse. A kind of bleak recognition. "Then he mentioned my father."
Ronan went still. "What about your father?"
"He said he's been thinking about Daniel lately. About the work he did for this town. About how much he's missed." Her voice cracked. "He said he sees so much of my father in me. The same dedication. The same curiosity. The same willingness to dig into things that other people overlook."
The words hung in the air between them.
"He knows," Ronan said.
"He knows something." Lila's hands were shaking harder now. "Maybe not everything. But enough. Enough to make that phone call. Enough to bring up my father and watch how I react."
Ronan reached for her. Stopped himself. Anyone could walk by. But she looked like she was about to shatter, and he couldn't just stand there.
"Come here," he said quietly.
She crossed the distance between them in two steps and pressed her forehead against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and held on. Felt her shake. Felt her breathe.
"I can't do this," she whispered. "I can't sit across from him and smile and pretend I don't know what he did. I can't."
"You can." He spoke into her hair. "You've been doing it for two years. Every time you saw him at a town meeting. Every time he waved at you on the street. You've been carrying this weight alone, and you've never let him see."
"That was before." She pulled back to look at him. Her eyes were wet. "Before I knew for certain. Before I had proof. Before I—" She stopped.
"Before you had something to lose."
She nodded.
He cupped her face in his hands. Her skin was cold.
"Listen to me. You're going to have lunch with Warren Caldwell tomorrow.
You're going to let him talk. You're going to nod and ask questions and act like you're considering whatever he offers.
And when it's over, you're going to walk out of that restaurant and come straight to me. "
"And then?"
"And then we end this." His thumbs traced her cheekbones. "Eleven days. That's all I need. Eleven days, and Warren Caldwell will never threaten you again."
She closed her eyes. Leaned into his touch. "What if eleven days is too long?"
"Then we adapt. We accelerate. We do whatever we have to do." He pressed his forehead to hers. "But we don't run. And we don't break. Not now. Not when we're this close."
She was quiet for a moment. Then she opened her eyes, and something had shifted in them. The fear was still there, but underneath it, steel.
"Okay," she said. "Okay."
Footsteps made them spring apart.
"Lila?" A woman's voice. "Here you are. The mayor's here for the budget meeting."
"I'll be right there." Lila's voice was steady. Composed. The mask was back in place so fast it made Ronan's chest ache.
She smoothed her hair. Straightened her blouse. Met his eyes.
"Tonight?" she asked quietly.
"Tonight."
She nodded once, then walked past him and into the building.
Ronan stood on the sidewalk, listening to her footsteps recede into the building, and thought about what it cost her to keep walking. To keep smiling. To keep pretending.
Eleven days.
He pulled out his phone and texted Caleb.
Accelerate the timeline. We may not have eleven days.
Lila arrived at his cottage just after nine.
She didn't say anything when he opened the door. Just stepped inside, wrapped her arms around him, and held on. He kicked the door shut and held her.
They stood like that for a long time. Long enough for the tension to drain out of her shoulders. Long enough for her breathing to slow. Long enough for the night sounds of the Gulf to fill the silence—waves against the shore, wind through the palms, the distant cry of a night bird.
"I hated today," she said finally, her voice muffled against his chest.
"I know."
"I sat through a two-hour budget meeting and smiled at the mayor and made small talk about parade permits, and the whole time I kept thinking about Warren's voice on the phone. The way he said my father's name. Like it meant nothing. Like Daniel Bennett was just a tool he'd used and discarded."
Ronan tightened his arms around her. "He's going to pay for that."
"I know." She pulled back to look at him. "I know he is. And I know we have a plan, and I trust you're going to keep me safe. But right now, tonight, I don't want to think about any of it. I don't want to think about Warren or the centennial or what happens in eleven days."
"What do you want?"
She reached up and touched his face. "I want to feel something that isn't fear."
He kissed her. Slow at first, then deeper. She melted into him, her fingers sliding into his hair, her body pressing against his. He walked her backward toward the bedroom, shedding clothes along the way, and when they fell onto the bed together, he made sure she felt everything except fear.
Afterward, she lay with her head on his chest, tracing idle patterns on his skin.
"Ronan."
"Yeah."
"Then what?” Her voice was soft. Uncertain. "After Warren is exposed. After the centennial. After Shadow Ops disappears like you always do."
He'd been asking himself the same question all day. All week. Every time he looked at her and felt something shift in his chest that had nothing to do with the mission.
"I don't know," he said. Honest. "I've never let myself think that far ahead."
"And now?"
He pulled her closer. Pressed his lips to her hair.
"Now I can't stop."