Don’t Even Think About Running #3
And if he found out that his bastard brother had helped her?
His fury would know no bounds. He’d go to war gladly if it meant a face-off with Ildefanso.
Part of her actually wished he would find out.
If anyone could bring him to his knees, or even destroy him completely, it would be Fanso.
The man was frightening because anything and everything in his hands had the capacity to become a weapon.
It was one of the reasons his father had preferred him to his legitimate sons. He was an efficient killer.
“Don’t even think about running.”
Her head popped up to find Triumph leaning against the doorjamb, one foot crossed over the other.
“That is what you were thinking about doing, wasn’t it?”
Heat crept up in her cheeks, and it had nothing to do with the bath water. “It did cross my mind,” she admitted. Like earlier, the thought of lying to him made her nauseous. “He’s going to come after me. He’ll kill anyone who helped me. Anyone who stands in his way. He won’t care who it hurts.”
“And what are you going to do? Keep running your whole life?”
“If I had to. If it kept you safe. Your friends.”
“Then why call me in the first place if you’re just going to run?” He stood straight in the doorway and prowled into the bathroom. Grabbing a towel from the rack, he opened it and gestured for her to stand.
When she did, the water sluiced off her body, leaving traces of bubbles in spots on her skin.
He helped her over the tub’s edge, patting down her skin with the plush fabric.
His attention was focused yet detached. She knew it would take very little to provoke a physical response, but she didn’t want to distract him.
This was a conversation they needed to have, no matter how distasteful it might be.
“I’m running on instinct, Triumph,” she offered in explanation.
“There’s very little logic that’s been running through my head since I woke up and found myself tied to that chair.
My training kicks in automatically. I don’t even consciously think about it anymore.
The natural reaction for operatives when they’re in trouble is to run.
Doesn’t mean we do it, but if you do, when you get somewhere relatively safe, you stop.
Reassess. And usually, you end up running again. ”
He finished drying her off and wrapped the towel around her, tucking the upper corner into the fold to keep her covered. “Is that standard for CIA operatives?”
“Ones who get caught? Burned? More the rule than the exception, I’m guessing.
Those of us who work in the field undercover, we’re specialized.
We’re put into impossible positions, and if we’re exposed or suffer some other fate at the hands of those we’re working against, we’re expendable.
Our sacrifice is for the greater good and all that gibberish. You know that.”
“You are not expendable, Glennon. Your life is valuable. You’ve given a third of it to a cause that almost cost you your life.”
She smiled at him, her hand curving his stubbled cheek. “You’ve no idea how much that means to me that you believe that. Truly.” Rising on tiptoe, she gave him a quick, sweet kiss on the mouth. “But the reality is, you’re not the CIA.”
“They don’t define your worth,” he growled.
She bit back the giggle that wanted to escape at his anger over what he considered dishonoring her. He would not understand or enjoy her amusement.
“But honestly, they do, Triumph. For twenty-odd years, my worth was defined by my family. When I left them behind, the CIA became the stand-in, with Guillermo as their unknowing proxy. Between those three triangulation points, there’s not a lot of positive, but there hasn’t been anyone else in my life. ”
“There is now.” He cupped her jaw in his hands. “I’m telling you right now—you are worthy. Your life is valuable. And I’m going to keep telling you that because it’s true.”
Her hands covered his. “I’m beginning to see that.”
A sting developed behind her eyes. Triumph saw nothing but good in her. It was a strange feeling, one she didn’t believe she’d ever experience.
To him, she was a single entity with her own thoughts and feelings, wants and needs.
No one had ever seen her this way. Certainly not her parents, who believed her entire existence was to live for her brother, as they did.
Certainly not her employer, who, once she’d outlived her usefulness, cast her aside like trash.
And certainly not Guillermo, who destroyed anyone he touched simply for the joy of it.
Perhaps what shocked her the most was that her past was just that. Most people spent their whole lives looking back, wondering “What if…?” Lamenting choices made that didn’t work out as planned. Overanalyzing every moment to see where things went wrong.
How ironic was it that the analyst—the man who got paid to do that very job—was the man who ignored the past because it couldn’t be changed. His philosophy being you could only go forward.
Well. He didn’t completely ignore the past. He had his own baggage to deal with regarding his friend Tilly, but he wasn’t struggling with his choices or living in the moment of her death. He was simply grieving and hadn’t found an exit to the infinity loop yet.
Their lips met again, and her fingers curled into his palms, as if she were holding his hand as they walked. Each touch of his mouth against hers was an exploration. Unhurried. Tender. It was part of that gentler Triumph, the one everybody saw but didn’t realize was just the surface of who he was.
Their previous encounters had been fraught with threats and terrible timing.
For the first time, they were able to actually enjoy each other.
Now, each touch nibbled at her flesh, sampling, tasting, savoring.
She had no doubt this experience would be repeated on other parts of her body, when they were less stretched thin by exhaustion and less concerned with what the next disaster would bring their way.