13. Easton
Easton
Naked for me. Kill me now.
I keep my mouth shut, fighting a smile, and gesture for her to get her ass moving. Some things will never change when it comes to her. Not even during life-or-death circumstances. She can cry and need comforting one minute, then get under my skin the very next.
She’s like a stick of dynamite in a dark room.
The light, the spark, and the explosion all in one.
Evil’s no match for her. It can try and wear her down, and maybe she’ll be shaken up for a little bit, but ultimately, she’ll do a one-eighty and kick evil’s ass.
She won’t let what happened tonight hold her back.
If anything, she’ll use it as ammunition to take on the world.
And she won’t quit until she’s found every last piece of shit responsible for what happened.
I have to keep that in mind, because with that attitude, she could easily wind up in danger again.
And what if I’m not there next time?
At that thought, I force myself to leave, keeping the door cracked open behind me. I head into the neighboring bedroom and shut the door to get naked myself. Gun on the dresser first, I strip to nothing on my way to the bathroom.
I take one of the quickest showers in history. I don’t want to be away from Gwen for long. But once I’ve got a towel wrapped around my hips, and I’m in front of the mirror . . .
Fuck.
I slam my hands onto the counter and go completely still. Without Gwen to distract me, the last several hours come roaring back. I stare at my reflection, searching for the good inside me I had to extinguish earlier to take out so many people.
I have no idea how many bodies I racked up from behind the yoke while in the Air Force. Missiles are impersonal weapons. When you’re cruising up in the sky, you might as well be playing a video game. You convince yourself it’s not real. That those people down below are NPCs.
But when you have to get up close and personal with death, that’s when it hits harder. And it usually pains you to be the one to take the breath from another human’s lungs. Holding someone’s mortality in your hands is a lot of power, even if they’re the enemy.
And I don’t feel bad about a single life I took tonight. Hell, I think I even liked it. I wanted to swim in that fucker’s blood who planned to assault Gwen. And that worries me. Because I don’t know what to make of it.
I need to just . . . come on.
Feel bad.
Feel. Fucking. Bad.
People died. I killed them. And maybe those people could have been redeemed, but now they’re dead. Gone for good. Forever in Hell.
I sink to my knees, keeping my palms on the counter as I bow my head to the cabinet.
Nothing comes. Not an ounce of remorse. Not a single pulse of regret thrums through me. I only get angrier every time I remember what happened.
The world is better without them.
Those men were pure evil. Demonic, even. Incapable of redemption. That’s all that makes sense for anyone to ever want to—
At the two raps at the door, my back muscles snap together, provoking pain from those damn lashes. Ignoring the lingering sting, I shove away from the counter and fall back onto my heels, planting my hands on top of my thighs. “Yeah?”
“You’ve been in there over ten minutes,” Zoey says through the door. “We got worried about you.”
Ten minutes? How long was I on my knees? The shower couldn’t have been more than sixty seconds. Did I really zone out like that? “Sorry, I’m, uh, coming.”
I slap a hand to the counter and haul myself to my feet. My clothes aren’t in here, so that’s great. Ensuring my towel is secure, I open up, not expecting to see both Gwen and Zoey.
“Hey,” I force out, my gaze flying straight to Gwen sitting on the bed.
“Hi,” Gwen speaks first, and the word might be small, but this woman always manages to pack a hell of a lot of emotion into every syllable she speaks.
“You okay?” Zoey asks, but I’m too busy checking out Gwen to respond.
Shit, not like that. Just making sure she’s fine.
She’s not naked, so that’s good. She has on black sweats and a plain gray, long-sleeved, cotton shirt. And like Zoey, her wet hair is in a side braid. Her feet are bare. But yeah, she looks much better. Like she didn’t nearly . . .
I clench my jaw and fold my arms over my chest, then lean into the doorway while crossing my ankles in a lame attempt to pull off casual.
Gwen has a half-eaten granola bar grasped between her palms, and she lowers it to her lap as she stares at me.
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
Her lips twitch, like she’s remembering our teasing exchange—something that probably shouldn’t have happened, imaginary doctor’s orders or not.
“I’ll be better when we’re off this island,” she answers, and I’m right there with her on that.
“I think I should go to the compound before we leave and have a look around.”
Zoey’s words hit me like whiplash, and my head snaps toward her. “I know you don’t answer to me or Carter, but it’s too dangerous. You’re not going back there.”
She motions to the hall. “I can’t sit here and babysit the cameras for three hours when there could be actionable intelligence we could get our hands on. By the time they get here, it’ll be too late. Authorities will be crawling all over the place, too.”
“If that’s the case, we’ll get POTUS to make a call for us so we can get access.
” I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but .
. . “Julian can hack the records and see if the local police salvage anything that’s helpful to our case.
You know our people are scouring surveillance footage of the island now that they know where we are.
They can pull up aerial footage of the compound,” I point out.
“So, there’s nothing we can do but hold tight and stay safe until they get here. ”
Zoey shakes her head, so damn stubborn. Just like someone else I know. I glance at Miss Stubborn herself, and she’s quietly studying me the way I’ve seen her analyze a complex bit of code she’s struggling to decrypt.
Good luck with that. I don’t even understand myself.
“It’s still better if we physically have boots on the ground ourselves, and you know it.”
“Do you have a death wish?” I grunt.
She moves in front of me, blocking my view of Gwen. “You know I can get back there unseen and much quicker alone. I need to—”
“We didn’t get her out of there just so you can get captured, and I’ll have to go back there and save your ass.
” I stab in the direction of the wood floors, and while it’s not ideal to have an operational discussion in only a towel, I don’t have much of a choice.
“I know you’re trying to do damage control because you feel responsible, but we don’t know anything. ”
“I want to make this right. I’m too type A to sit here and do nothing.”
“Well, you can take your type A self downstairs and watch those cameras for us. That is doing something.” I tighten the towel so it doesn’t slip. That’s the last thing I need. Zoey would never take me seriously with my junk flapping in the breeze. “Now, if you don’t mind . . .”
She lets go of a deep breath while glancing back at Gwen. There’s another regretful this-is-all-my-fault apology on the tip of Zoey’s tongue. I can hear the unspoken words radiating off her. But then she runs in a different direction than I expected and jokes, “Is he always this bossy?”
Gwen’s face softens. Thank you, Zoey, for making her smile. “Yeah, I just don’t listen.”
Smartass. And I’d much prefer her sass to her sadness any day of the week, even if it can be dangerous, especially when we’re alone.
“But in this case, I hope you do listen to him.”
Zoey keeps her shoulders locked up and tense as she stares at the floor. “I’m used to rolling solo since I left SIS.”
She’s probably remembering why we’re here yet again, which ties to why she left MI6 in the first place. I don’t envy what she’s going through.
If I lost the love of my life, I’d . . . well, snap.
“I would say to get used to it,” I finally speak up, doing my best not to stare at Gwen instead, “but something tells me you don’t plan on officially joining Carter and the others at The Sapphire on a permanent basis.”
“No, I can’t,” Zoey answers without hesitation, holding up her hands.
“Out of respect for Diana?” Gwen takes a guess.
Zoey exhales a deep breath, eyes shooting to the floor. “It wouldn’t be right,” she says in an almost somber tone before starting for the door. Without looking back at us, she tosses out, “For now, though, I’ll listen and stay put.”
Why she shuts Gwen in the room with me while I’m only in a towel is beyond me, but here we are.
“I probably shouldn’t have said that about Diana.” Gwen drags a hand down her face. “I assume she now knows that we all know about the rumors.”
“Zoey’s not one to be shy, don’t worry about it.” I search for my clothes, needing my gum more than I need to be dressed, but they’re not in here. Not even my boots. Just the Glock I left behind.
Knowing Zoey, she collected my stuff while I showered, probably worried I’ll forget something and leave behind a DNA trail.
I set my hands on my hips above the towel, doing my best to ignore the pain in my back. Now’s not the time for liquid anesthesia, but I can use bourbon more than a stick of gum.
“Are you okay?” she asks, fidgeting with her shirt.
“Not supposed to be asking me that. Are you good? That granola bar is hardly enough to hold you over.”
“I think I’ve lost my appetite despite still feeling like I’m starving.” She lifts a shoulder. “My stomach is contradicting itself, I know. Wouldn’t be the first time I’m a walking contradiction.”
“Don’t I know it,” I grumble. “What would you like to do until your dad’s here?”
I can tell she’s biting the inside of her cheek. It’s a nervous habit of hers. Any guesses what mine is? I wonder whether Carter thought of stocking the place with gum.
“Maybe I’ll just lie down and rest?”
“I’d prefer not to leave you alone up here, and I should join Zoey on the first floor to keep an eye on the property. How about you get your rack time on the couch downstairs?”
“Sure.” She’s switched to lip biting now, and her gaze flies down my torso and lingers where the towel hugs my skin.
“Gwen?”
“Yeah?” she breathes out.
I raise my brows. “Are you looking to forget what happened tonight again? You know, by teasing me?”
Her smile says it all, but she can’t help herself. “How am I teasing you?”
She damn well knows that eye-fucking me is such a “her” thing to do just to mess with me.
“Troublemaker, I swear.” I’m also willing to do anything and everything—short of kissing her—to make her feel better and forget the horror of the night.
“I have no clue how you keep doing it. You just make me feel better. Like what happened was all an illusion. A bad dream. The abduction. The fake bomb. My stolen rig.”
She skipped right over the part neither of us will ever forget.
And now I’m back in that room, with his hands on her and his belt undone. His breath on her skin.
It takes her joining me on her feet and setting her hand on my chest to haul me back to the here and now.
“Beating so fast.” She walks her fingers up to my shoulder before her hand skims down my biceps.
Every muscle in my body goes taut. She wants to forget, to feel normal, and I just . . .
“I was too late. He never should’ve—”
“Oh, E.” She throws herself at me. Hugging me as if I’m the one who was almost hurt. “You weren’t late.”
I nuzzle the side of her neck with my nose. “I’m supposed to be comforting you, not the other way around.”
“Trauma can be a two-way street. We’ve been through a lot together. The crash and now this,” she whispers, her words sliding across my heated flesh.
She’s doing it again. Back-seating her pain for someone else’s, dammit. But I don’t want her doing that for me.
“You’re allowed to hurt, too. Not just physically, like your back is . . . but what you had to witness. It can’t be easy, you know, as my friend.”
Friend. My stomach punches from the inside out. Wyatt’s daughter. That reminder sinks in hard and fast, but I’m unable to let go of her.
“The things you had to do to get me out of there, too. I can’t imagine.” She’s sniffling. Probably crying again.
And that’s on me. She was smiling and distracted, and I pulled her back into the dark abyss.
“I don’t feel bad about killing them,” I say like a confession. Like she can absolve me of my sins. I doubt killing those monsters counts as one. Might have to consult my sister on that if I ever work up the nerve to open up. “I’m just so sorry he ever—”
“But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Because of you.” She eases away, forcing me to lift my head to find her eyes. “I’m not going to let that bastard take anything from me. I refuse to. My stubbornness can be a good thing sometimes. So, please, don’t let him take anything from you, either.”
I cup her cheeks, catching some of her tears with my thumbs. “You don’t have to put on a mask and act like you’re okay for me. You get that, right? I understand you’re tough and a badass, but you—”
“I know.” Her smile vanishes, and she nods.
“This is a safe place. You’ll always have a safe place with me. As your friend, of course.”
Friend—the word still tastes strange on my tongue and sounds just as awkward in my head.
“I appreciate that.” She’s sucking her bottom lip, nerves getting the best of her.
What is she going to ask me? What has her so nervous?
“Just, um, tell me this means you’re coming back.” Her voice catches on the last word.
And there it is. But am I back?
“Tell me you never plan to leave me again.”
I lean forward, dropping my forehead to hers, and in a strained voice I admit, “You and I both know I was never gone for good.” I close my eyes and give in to the only truth I know deep in my gut. “I was always coming back to you.”