Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
His fists slammed into the bag over and over again.
Pain radiated up his arms.
It wasn't enough.
Didn't matter how many times he hit the damn bag, the fear inside him didn't abate.
Josiah hadn't felt as scared in a long time as he had in the moment when Chelsea collapsed in his arms.
Faking.
It had all been a trick.
Anger.
He’d been furious with her. Didn't she get that it was bad enough she was undercover with him, risking her life, without the skills necessary to give her a good chance of survival? Obviously, she didn't if she could take things a step further and tempt fate.
What if the doctor had admitted her? What if he’d run more tests that they were unprepared for?
Chelsea wasn't sick, her kidneys were fine, if the ring found out that she was faking, she would find herself on a table ready to be carved up. He would, too, not that he cared about his own life, but Chelsea’s …
After watching his team get gunned down around him, surviving only because he hadn't yet taken off his body armor when the others had, he’d shut down. Ruthlessly rid himself of all emotions except for anger. It was the only way to survive.
But today he’d felt fear.
Terror.
Actually believed that something was wrong with her, that the medication she was taking to simulate some of the symptoms she should be having with kidney failure had made her sick. Or worse.
She’d been so cavalier about the whole thing, too. Jumping up as soon as they were alone and pulling out her gadgets. It wasn't a bad idea, and if she’d told him ahead of time what she intended to do, he might even have gone along with it.
Probably wouldn't have, but there was the slimmest of possibilities.
More than likely he would have taken the microphone and cameras in his pocket, pretended to leave something behind, then when the doctor was with Chelsea in the hall, go back to get it and plant their surveillance devices.
That would have been the safest option, but Chelsea didn't seem to care about safety.
It was like she had some sort of death wish.
Logically, he knew that she did not. They’d known one another for years now, and there was no one sweeter, more caring and kind, with a bigger heart, than Chelsea Pierce.
She was every bit as sunshiny as the sun itself, and she saw the best in everyone.
Despite all of that, she had a good head on her shoulders, she was smart and funny, observant and attentive to detail, and great at her job.
She was doing this because the trafficking ring had targeted their team, and she wanted to do her part to help stop them. He got all of that, and yet he couldn’t seem to find his usual distance.
Josiah was aware that most people looking in from the outside would say that he kept himself separate from his team, that he didn't care about them or even like them. While it was true he did maintain an emotional distance, he liked every one of them just fine. He’d stepped up when Teresa needed their team to remind her she wasn't alone, and he watched over his team even when they weren't aware of it.
Keeping himself separate from them was the only way he could survive. Already he’d lost one team, he couldn’t handle losing another.
Yet here Chelsea was, deep in the middle of an undercover operation, messing with his head because he cared about her a whole hell of a lot more than he should.
Caring about her left him open to more pain.
Pain he couldn’t handle when the wounds left behind by his teammates’ deaths still felt raw and open, not even partially healed.
Even now, hours later, after they’d finished up a meeting that had gone as well as they could have hoped for, the fear of losing Chelsea hadn't abated.
Didn't matter that the morning had been a success, that Dr. Wood had come as close to admitting he had a way to get them a black-market organ without outright saying those words.
If Chelsea had actually had a bad reaction to the drugs she was taking, in his mind it would have been a failure.
When had her life become more important than their op?
If he was being honest with himself, it always had. From the moment Raven agreed with her plan to come undercover with him, he was prioritizing her safety over everything else. He wanted this ring shut down, but not at the expense of Chelsea’s life.
Picking up the pace, he slammed his fists into the bag repeatedly, refusing to give himself a break until his body began to weave with exhaustion.
What he needed was to get some proper rest, but he couldn’t seem to get his brain to shut off. Sleep was bad enough for him on his best day, and being with Chelsea under these circumstances, he was absolutely not having any best days.
Of all the people in the world, she was the only one who could make the barriers he’d built around himself shake.
She couldn’t make them crumble, he couldn’t allow her to do that, but she did make them shake a little, weaken.
Not even his own family could do that. While he didn't enjoy cutting them out of his life, he had to do what was necessary to survive, and that meant no emotional attachments.
Not even with the woman he knew was sitting upstairs alone.
She might not have said the words, but Chelsea had clearly been hoping he would celebrate the morning’s success with her when they got back to their rented townhouse.
Unable to handle spending any time around her without exploding on her again like he had in Dr. Wood’s office, he’d stalked straight down to the basement gym.
He’d been going at the bag long enough that his hands ached, his shoulders ached, every muscle in his body felt tight, and sweat soaked his clothes and stung his eyes.
Knowing he couldn’t keep going indefinitely, and if hitting the bag was going to rid him of the fear still floating through his system, it would have done it already, Josiah admitted defeat.
Much as he’d like to push his body to its absolute limits, he also had to remember that he was responsible for Chelsea’s safety.
She didn't have the training needed for this kind of operation, and if he wound up passing out from exhaustion she would be a sitting duck.
Ripping the tape off his hands, Josiah tossed it into the trash and headed for the stairs.
The higher he got, the tenser his body became.
Chelsea was up there somewhere, and he had no idea what he was going to say to her when he saw her.
It would be safer to say nothing than to go into another rage about her putting her life in danger this morning, but Chelsea wasn't big on silence.
By some miracle, both the kitchen and the living room were empty, and he took advantage of that and ran up the next flight of stairs, picking the closest bedroom to disappear into.
Chelsea must be up in their bedroom, and he didn't want to run into her. Part of him was ashamed he’d snapped and yelled at her in Dr. Wood’s office, the other part insisted he hadn't pushed hard enough to make her see her plan had been reckless and dangerous.
The longer he could avoid her the better.
Stripping out of the jeans and sweater he’d worn this morning, he removed his boxers and then leaned into the shower to turn the water on. While he waited for it to warm up, he checked the straps on his body armor.
It never came off.
Ever.
Nobody knew that he wore it literally everywhere he went.
Hadn't taken it off since the day he’d been released from the hospital after the attack that killed his team.
If anyone found out about it, they would insist on him seeing a therapist to talk through his issues, but the way he saw it, a therapist wasn't going to stop a bullet, but his body armor would. His team had lost their lives because they’d taken theirs off, he’d survived because he hadn't.
No amount of talking about his feelings was going to change that.
So he wore the body armor. Hid it beneath sweaters that he wore no matter the weather. He’d rather be too hot than risk getting hit by a bullet.
Steam filled the air, and he stepped under the spray.
With his body armor on, the water couldn’t properly reach his muscles, work out the tension in them, but he didn't care.
The feel of it on his skin was enough to help him relax, and he knew he was going to have to find a better way of handling his emotions.
Chelsea had taken a step away from him in that doctor’s office this morning, she’d been afraid of him.
That wasn't what he wanted. But the thing was, she should be afraid of him.
He was so consumed by anger that he was every bit as much a danger to her as the trafficking ring they were trying to dismantle.
May 13th
3:13 P.M.
The shower was running.
Of course, Josiah managed to time it for when she went upstairs to grab a sweater because she’d gotten chilly.
Chelsea thought he would have been over his anger at her for fake fainting this morning.
Everything had worked out okay, there was no need for him to be so stressed about it.
If the doctor had tried to admit her, she just would have claimed she was tired and needed to go home to rest. Nothing bad was going to happen to her, well not in the hospital this morning.
The only thing that could make this all fall apart was if the ring caught on to the fact they were lying, and honestly, it was Josiah’s anger in the doctor’s office that had put them at risk more than her well thought-out gamble.
If she could just get him to stay still long enough to talk things through with her, she was sure she could assuage whatever fears it was that he had.
But he’d been hiding out in the gym ever since they got home.