Maeve
I walk down the hallway beside the man I now know as Keaton.
Keaton.
I glance up at him again. I can't help it. The name is going to take some getting used to.
For weeks, he existed only as Taibhse. A name on my phone.
A tiny vibration in my pocket that somehow became the best part of my day.
He was coffee waiting for me in the mornings and music filling empty rooms. A camera moving when I smiled at it and ridiculous answers that made me laugh when I thought I'd forgotten how.
Now he's walking beside me. Real. Tall. Broad enough that his shoulder nearly brushes mine every few steps. And apparently named Keaton.
I smile before I can stop myself.
His eyes immediately drop to me. "What?"
"Nothing."
His eyebrows pull together. "You looked at me and smiled."
"I did."
"Why?"
My smile grows. "I haven't decided yet."
He stares at me for another second as though he's genuinely considering asking more questions before turning his attention back to the hallway. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
Knowing his face hasn't made him any less strange. For some reason, I find that comforting.
The warmth of that thought lasts until we reach the end of the hallway and another set of headlights moves across the windows.
My steps slow. Keaton notices immediately. Of course he does. He stops with me instead of continuing toward the living room, turning his body enough that he can see my face.
"They won't hurt you." There isn't even the slightest hesitation in his voice.
I look toward the front of the house, where shadows move beyond the curtains. "How do you know?"
"Because they'd have to get through me first."
My eyes return to his. He's completely serious. Something warm and terrifying unfurls beneath my ribs. There are probably a thousand reasons I shouldn't believe him.
I've known his real name for approximately fifteen minutes. I've seen his face for less than an hour. I still don't know exactly who he is or what he does, and I'd willingly climbed into a vehicle with him after he made my husband pass out.
My father would be appalled by every decision I've made tonight.
But I believe Keaton. Completely. Maybe because Taibhse has never made me a promise he didn't keep.
Maybe because he gave me back pieces of myself I'd thought were gone forever.
Or maybe because some instinct buried deep inside me—the one I'd spent months ignoring to keep my marriage together—is finally screaming loudly enough for me to hear it.
Keaton won't let anyone hurt me. I know that. I just don't know if his team is going to make me go back. The thought sends cold fear sliding through the warmth in my chest.
Before I can ask him what happens if they try, a fist pounds against the front door hard enough to make me jump.
"OPEN UP, FUGITIVE!"
My heart leaps into my throat. Keaton closes his eyes.
A man's voice bellows from somewhere outside. "Wheels, if you break down my door, we're going to have a fucking problem."
My head turns slowly toward Keaton. "Bullet?"
He sighs. "Bullet."
Another bang rattles the door. "Technically, I'm knocking!"
"You're hitting it with your fist."
"That's how knocking works!"
"No, it fucking isn't!"
I stare at the door. Then at Keaton. Then back at the door. "What is happening?"
"I'm reconsidering several life choices."
Before I can ask which ones, the door flies open. Two enormous men attempt to come through it at exactly the same time. Neither one yields. For several seconds, I can only stare as one tries to shoulder his way past the other while they argue over who was there first.
"I was standing in front of the door," the blonde-haired one says.
"Congratulations," the other shoots back. "Do you want a medal or do you want to move your giant ass?"
"It's my house."
"Then you should've built a bigger door."
"You know I didn't build the fucking house."
"Sounds like poor planning."
My confusion is so complete that it temporarily overrides my fear. These are the men Keaton works with? One of them gives the other a hard shove. The other shoves back. I take an instinctive step closer to Keaton. His hand moves immediately, settling against the small of my back.
Not pushing me behind him. Not pulling me anywhere. Just there. Warm. Steady. My body relaxes before I can tell it not to.
A much smaller figure appears behind the two men still fighting for dominance over the doorway.
"Oh, for fuck's sake." The woman's voice cuts cleanly through the argument. Both men stop. "Move."
Neither does. She plants a hand between their shoulder blades and shoves. "Back the fuck up before I start kicking people."
The men separate immediately. I blink. She's tiny compared to them.
Not actually tiny, I suppose, but standing between the two massive men, she looks almost delicate.
Beautiful, too. Dark hair frames a face that would look perfectly at home on the cover of a magazine, and there is something warm about her despite the fact that she's currently glaring at two men twice her size.
She steps through the doorway. Her eyes sweep over the room once before landing on Keaton. Everything about her changes. The irritation disappears from her face, replaced by something so soft and relieved that an uncomfortable little sensation twists inside my chest.
I don't like it. The thought comes so quickly that I'm startled by it. I stare at her. Then at Keaton. Then back at her.
Why don't I like it?
She's clearly worried about him. They're friends. Teammates, apparently. Or maybe—I cut the thought off. No. Absolutely not.
I was locked inside a house this morning, kidnapped this evening, and have spent the last hour discovering that the mysterious stranger I've been talking to has an entire secret life filled with men named after weird things.
I am not adding whatever that feeling is to the list of things I need to process tonight.
The dark-haired man finally makes it through the doorway and spots Keaton.
His entire face lights up.
"Oh, shit, Skee." He points directly at him. "You are in so much trouble."
Keaton's hand remains against my back. "Wheels."
The man—Wheels, apparently—grins. "Daddy's mad."
Another man steps through the doorway behind him. He is quieter than the others. Bigger, somehow, though maybe it's the way he carries himself. He takes in the room with one sweep of his eyes, assessing every corner before his attention settles on us. He doesn't look amused.
"Wheels," he says, his voice carrying the kind of exhausted patience that tells me this isn't the first time he's had to say something like this, "if you don't quit it with the Daddy shit, I'm putting you on overwatch with Bullet for the entirety of the next mission."
Wheels gasps. Actually gasps. One hand flies to his chest. "You wound me, Badger."
I stare at him. Badger. My gaze moves to the man standing behind him.
Then to the one who had been yelling about the door.
Bullet.
Wheels.
Badger.
Skee.
I turn to find him, unable to look away. He is staring straight ahead.
I lower my voice. "What the hell is a Skee?"
Wheels hears me. His grin becomes almost blinding. "Oh, I like her."
Keaton's fingers flex once against my back. "Don't."
"I didn't do anything."
"You were about to."
"You don't know that."
"I've known you for ten years."
"Which makes your lack of faith in me hurt even more."
The woman finally moves farther into the room, shaking her head as she passes Wheels. "No one has faith in you."
"Rachel." Wheels looks genuinely offended. "I thought we were friends."
"We are."
"Then why are you like this?"
"Because we're friends."
Something about the exchange pulls a startled laugh from me.
Every head in the room turns in my direction.
The sound dies immediately. Keaton looks down at me.
Wheels looks delighted. Bullet is still standing near the door with his arms crossed, looking like he's trying to determine how many people he's willing to murder for invading his house. Rachel smiles at me.
And Badger...Badger looks at me for only a second.
Then his eyes move to Keaton. The entire room changes.
It's subtle. So subtle I don't think anyone else would notice it.
But I've spent months learning to read the smallest changes in a man's expression.
The tightening of a jaw. The shift of a shoulder.
The difference between silence and silence.
Disappointment settles over Badger's face.
Not anger. Somehow, I think Keaton would prefer anger.
His hand leaves my back. The loss of it is immediate. Badger's gaze drops briefly to the movement before returning to Keaton's face.
"You took her." No one laughs now.
Keaton straightens beside me. "Yes."
"You went into that house alone."
"Yes."
"You didn't tell anyone."
Keaton pauses. "I told Bullet."
Every head turns toward Bullet. His arms fall from his chest. "The fuck you did."
Keaton looks at him. "I called you."
"You called and said you needed my safe house!"
"Correct."
Bullet's mouth falls open. Wheels makes a choking sound that might be an attempt to hold back laughter. It doesn't work. Badger closes his eyes. Rachel presses her lips together. Even I have to bite the inside of my cheek.
Bullet points at Keaton. "You called me from the goddamn car, didn't you?"
Keaton doesn't answer.
Bullet's eyes narrow. "Skee."
"Technically, she was already in the vehicle."
"That is not better!"
"I didn't say it was."
Wheels loses the battle entirely. His laughter fills the room.
Badger turns his head slowly. "Wheels."
"I'm sorry." He holds up both hands, still laughing. "I'm sorry. This is serious." He looks at Keaton. "Really fucking funny. But serious."
Badger's expression hardens. "Outside."
The single word is directed at Keaton. My stomach drops. Keaton doesn't move immediately. Neither do I. Badger notices.
His gaze shifts to me, and for the first time since he walked into the house, the disappointment in his expression eases. "I'm not sending you back." I stare at him. He must see how much those words affect me because his voice softens. "No one here is going to make you go anywhere."
My throat tightens. Beside me, Keaton releases a breath so quietly I almost miss it. Badger doesn't. His eyes move back to him. "Now, Skee."
Wheels winces. "Ooh."
Rachel smacks his arm.
"What?" he whispers loudly. "Daddy's mad."
Badger turns.
Wheels immediately points toward the kitchen. "Get out of the way. Right. Great idea."
For the first time since they arrived, I look around at all of them.
At Bullet glaring at everyone for invading his house.
At Wheels apparently incapable of taking anything seriously for longer than thirty seconds.
At Rachel, who is still watching Keaton with that softness I haven't decided how I feel about.
At Badger, who somehow seems to be in charge of all of them.
Then I look at the man beside me. Keaton. Taibhse. Skee. Apparently.
I still have absolutely no idea what I've gotten myself into. But as Wheels starts arguing with Bullet about whether this place has anything to eat and Rachel tells them both to shut up, something strange happens.
For the first time in months, I'm standing in a room full of noise.
Real noise. Laughter and arguing and people interrupting each other.
No one is lowering their voice because Ronan might hear.
No one is watching the doorway. No one is waiting for permission to speak.
And despite the fear still sitting heavily in my chest, I feel something inside me loosen. Just a little.
Then Keaton starts toward the door with Badger, and my hand reaches for his before I can stop it. My fingers close around his. He freezes. So does everyone else. I look down at our joined hands.
Then slowly up at him. "I..."
I don't know what I'm asking. Don't leave me? Come back? Don't let them change their minds?
Keaton seems to understand anyway. His fingers close around mine. "I'm coming back."
The certainty in his voice settles something inside me. I nod and force myself to release him.
He takes two steps toward the door before Wheels leans toward me and stage-whispers, "He's absolutely getting yelled at."
Keaton doesn't even turn around. "I can hear you."
"I know."
And for reasons I can't begin to explain, I smile.
"WAIT!" Wheels's shout is so loud that everyone in the room freezes. Badger stops halfway through the door. Rachel spins around. Even Bullet looks up from whatever he's doing in the kitchen. I jump.
Keaton just closes his eyes.
Slowly, Wheels raises one arm. His index finger points toward Keaton's shirt as though he's just noticed something straight out of a horror movie. His eyes widen.
"...You have dirt on your shirt."
Keaton glances down at himself before looking back up. "I know."
Wheels blinks. "I've literally never seen you dirty."
"I've been in Afghanistan."
"Yeah." Wheels nods thoughtfully. "You were cleaner there."
Wheels points at Keaton's shoulder. "There's actual mud on you."
"I noticed."
"And..." He leans in another inch, narrowing his eyes. "...is that a pine needle?"
Keaton reaches up, plucks it from his hair, and flicks it onto the floor. "It was."
Wheels stares at the tiny needle for a second before looking back at him. "I don't know how to process this."
Rachel presses her lips together, but I see her shoulders shake.
Badger rubs a hand over his face. "Wheels."
But Wheels is still staring at Keaton like he's never seen him before. "Who even are you?"
Keaton looks at me. I have no idea why. Maybe because I'm still the newest person in the room. Maybe because, somehow, he expects me to help him. I shrug. "Don't look at me. I found out his name twenty minutes ago."
Wheels's head whips toward me. "You didn't know his name?"
Keaton turns toward the door. "Matt, I'm ready to be yelled at now."