35. Easton
Easton
“You should be sleeping. Nothing for you to do at the moment.”
Not a suggestion from Carter after he finds me in the first-floor café, but I plan on taking it as one.
“Hold up. We might as well talk if we both can’t sleep.”
The muscles in my body lock tight, and I exhale a deep breath. Fak.
“Grab a table. Wait for me.” The man can’t help himself. Every other word from his mouth sounds like he’s attempting to dominate a boardroom, or—
Nope, to hell with that thought. “Fine,” I mutter and head out from the back area to settle in at a high-top table.
I should have kept my ass in my suite and had my morning joe there, but my living room couch is identical to the one in Gwen’s, and anytime I glance at it, all I can think about is her on my lap, kissing my neck. So, yeah, I tucked tail and took off down here with plans to be alone.
While waiting for Carter, I swap my coffee for my phone and open to last night’s text messages.
Constantine: Sorry I didn’t give you a heads-up. Didn’t have a chance. Hope you weren’t in the middle of something when W&G showed up to Gwen’s room.
All good. No worries.
That was a partial lie. I’m not sure what would’ve happened between the two of us had we not been pulled away to work the case. Maybe it’s for the better? Divine intervention keeping us from kissing or doing a lot more than that.
I flip open to read Gwen’s messages.
Gwen: When you’re ready, I’d like to finish that interrupted conversation.
Maybe sleep first? I’m not thinking all that clearly.
Gwen: OK
There are three responses she never sends me: a thumbs up sign, K, or OK. Not unless I’m in trouble.
The millennial urge to run to her room at the sight of those two letters paired together had been strong, but then I would have been greeted by her exhausted father. In light of what happened, he changed his mind and decided to sleep on her couch.
I don’t blame him. If he hadn’t declared he was doing it, I might have asked to do it myself. Brilliant idea, I know.
I was seconds away from a lame-ass response to her when she unsent her “OK.”
Gwen: I know you already saw it, but I didn’t mean it.
The fact she understood those two letters could cut me deeper than ten pissed-off texts almost had me going to her room anyway.
Gwen: I should sleep like you said. Goodnight, E.
At the sight of Carter joining me with his mug, I set aside my phone and force last night’s memories to the backburner.
“So, what are you doing up so early anyway?” I deflect, sitting forward so my aching back doesn’t make contact with the chair. I should pop some ibuprofen, but I’m trying to save myself from an ulcer by avoiding taking that shit on an empty stomach like I used to back in the day.
He sits opposite me and casually thumbs the handle of his mug, eyes on his coffee. Something has to be on his mind, and it’s heavy. “I didn’t want to wake Diana.”
When he says his wife’s name, guilt bleeds through, and I connect the dots and figure out what’s plaguing him. “You think it’s a woman from your past who’s behind this?” He’ll know what I’m saying without saying it—someone he slept with, not someone he went to war against.
His dark eyes slowly lift to my face, and his mouth becomes a tight line of remorse.
Yeah, I’m right. The demons from his past are circling him like scavengers flying over a carcass.
I try to think of something to say, but all I land on are lines of scripture my sister’s texted me over the years. Flying is probably the closest to heaven I’ll ever get, but props to her for never giving up and always trying to help my damned soul.
“Past is past.” Extremely insightful, I know. A modern-day Shakespeare. I shake my head and pick up my cup and take a sip, hoping to awaken my brain.
“I don’t want to tell Diana this could be tied to a woman I may have a history with,” he finally says, his voice tight. “My past is my past, but I’m not looking forward to dragging my wife into it if that’s what’s going on here.”
I set down my mug, surprised he opened up. Is this another one of those when pigs fly moments? Like our one-on-one talk on the plane?
“Diana will understand.”
“I know she will,” he says calmly, eyes back to his drink. “But that doesn’t mean she should have to deal with this.”
“You can’t protect her from everything that might hurt her. I know you want to, but life doesn’t always work out that way.” That was slightly more intuitive than my “past is past” remark. Maybe I’m waking up.
“I can, and I will,” he grunts.
“Fine.” I fold my arms, studying him. “Then show me pictures of these women. I can let you know if any are a match to Jezebel.”
The lines around his eyes deepen. “You think I kept photos of them?”
“Of course not. But you can find them online, can’t you?”
“Maybe a few.” His jaw flexes. “There’s no one who matches your description of Jezebel that I can think of. Maybe it’s her boss who knows me?”
“Jezebel implied she reports to a woman, but she could’ve been fucking with me.
There may be no one above her for all we know, and this is all her.
” I roll my shoulders back, trying to ignore the memories that woman scourged into my back.
“Maybe she was even faking the Aussie accent. Dyed her hair. Wore contacts. Anything is possible.”
“Jezebel is doubtfully Australian. She wouldn’t have risked hiring those mercenaries from her home country.”
“Then how would she, or her alleged boss, have happened upon that military operation involving Wyatt? The one leading to Bodhi’s best friend getting canned on that mission.
They could hack the files, but they’d have to know what they’re looking for first, and that’s a stretch to assume they’d get that lucky. ”
“Which means whoever is behind this was part of that mission. Or they were somehow connected to it.” He closes his eyes. “When and where did Gwen say that op was?”
I grab my phone and pull up the intel Gwen sent yesterday in an encrypted message. “Mogadishu. 2011.”
“Dammit.” He curses low again. “My unit was briefly in Somalia in 2011.” He opens his eyes, shaking his head.
“I was still Delta then. We were sent there to try and disrupt a trafficking network between Somalia and Yemen. We were pulled and sent to Abu Dhabi in November, and that’s when I first met Diana.
” He clears his throat. “You know, when I saved her during the embassy attack.”
Maybe we’re getting somewhere. “Wyatt didn’t mention you were there, and there was no report of Delta on that op.”
“Our paths wouldn’t have crossed, which is why I didn’t think about this yesterday.
I thought it was all about Wyatt. But yeah, back then my unit moved in and out of places without anyone knowing we were there, not even the SEALs.
I also never worked with Australian Special Forces—another reason this didn’t click.
” He exhales. “But I did work with SAS and MI6 while there.”
“And it’s possible Jezebel’s a Brit, not Aussie.”
“This goes back even farther than we thought. Before you and I worked together.”
“You were still married to Rebecca then, which means whoever is behind this isn’t someone you—” I’ll let him finish that thought.
Hopefully no need to drag Diana into an awkward conversation now.
“Wait, you said Yemen, too?” I set down my phone as that thought registers a little late. Too damn early for this.
He looks up at me and nods.
“Wasn’t that also where you went last month? Gwen’s first op back with Nash behind the yoke.” I think back to that awkward goodbye with Gwen when Zoey pulled me away, when I had to tell her we were going undercover as husband and wife. Feels like forever ago now.
“It was, but I don’t think there’s a connection between that op and 2011. But maybe whoever’s behind this wants us to believe that.”
“Another deepfake false trail? I’m getting sick of this shit.
Miss the old days when what you saw was what you got.
They could have set this lead up for us, which is why they chose a trafficking ring on that island as a front in the first place.
” I drum my fingers on the table. “But then why tell Zoey the traffickers might have a connection to Preston’s alleged killer? ”
“To really screw with us. Two false leads.”
“So we miss the truth right in front of us. We’re dealing with someone who wasn’t your enemy back then, but a friendly. Someone with firsthand knowledge of those missions in 2011 to set everything in motion.”
“Which rules out Jezebel as the mastermind behind this. She’d never run the risk of pulling in Bodhi and the others if they could identify her from before. She’s probably just another tool, reporting to someone else.”
I nod. “Any chance that op in Yemen wasn’t misdirection, but it was the first time they tried to grab Gwen?
Maybe the island was plan B.” Realizing how ridiculous that sounds, I shake my head, answering my own question.
“They went to too much trouble to draw us there if they could’ve snatched her in Yemen. ”
“They wouldn’t be stupid enough to go after her with all of us there to protect her, either. That’s why they needed her away from The Sapphire and in a place we thought was low-risk and safe.”
“But how the hell could they have predicted a girls’ trip would inevitably happen?
Even if they know us well enough to know Gwen was holed up here and sad .
. .” My fault, dammit. “That’s a reach for them to just assume that vacation would happen.
And these people don’t seem like the type to wait and hope everything works out in their favor. ”
“Doesn’t square up.” His eyes shoot to the table.
“We need to find out if Molly was in Somalia in 2011. Gwen only hacked the Americans and the Australians. We can ask her to do a deep dive into the Brits’ case files.
” He stands. “In the meantime, I’ll wake up Zoey and see what she knows.
She might be able to fill in some blanks. ”
I rise as well. “Someone went through a lot of trouble to set things in motion for whatever is on Gwen’s laptop. That also means they had to have insider knowledge about what’s on her damn laptop to begin with. But I don’t think this is about a vendetta. Not against you.”
He looks away, and I turn to follow his gaze.
Gwen’s hovering inside the main entrance, dressed in workout clothes and holding her laptop. “Am I interrupting? You both look tense.” She lifts one shoulder, tugging her mouth to the side. “Forget I said that second part. You’re both always uptight.”
“I’ve got some calls to make.” Carter faces me and gives me a silent command I easily read: Fill Gwen in and get her help.
After I acknowledge his silent order with a nod, he takes off, leaving me with two cold cups of joe and the woman who has the ability to jumpstart my heart and wake me up without caffeine.
“I thought I’d find you here,” she says softly.
“Liar.” I smirk. “You checked the cameras.”
“Caught me.” She shrugs. “Something told me if I was struggling to sleep, you were, too.”
“You stalking me now?” I joke.
“Now?” She grins.
Every step closer, she stirs something inside me. Something I’m pretty confident I can no longer shut off.
“Been keeping an eye on you for months, all the way back in Kansas City.” She leans in and pokes my chest with her free hand. “And you know it.”