Undertow

21. Compromised

21

COMPROMISED

“Call them,” Mama H barks at me.

With one wrist cuffed to the chair leg in Adrian’s kitchen, dialing a phone is no easy task. Julia holds my McArthur cell in front of me so I can use my free hand to pull up Merrick’s number.

“What do you want me to say?” I ask.

“Whatever the hell it takes to prove to us you’ve switched sides.”

“I can’t call them on speakerphone. They know I’d never do that.”

“Then, we’ll be quiet,” Adrian growls. “Fucking call them!”

Julia’s stare bores into me, silently begging me to comply. She still hasn’t decided if she’s going to betray her family in the final showdown, but she did determine that our interests are aligned for now. To buy us time and get me out of The Shack, she convinced Mama H that I agreed to help them in exchange for my life.

Julia initiates the call. Merrick picks up after one ring.

“What the fuck, Shaw? This better be important.”

“Would I be calling if it wasn’t?”

“Be quick. I’m in the middle of something.”

“Yeah? Well, so was I when Scarlett showed up and nearly blew my cover. You need to keep her the hell away from Undertow. She’s off the rails.”

“Scarlett showed up?”

“Came right to the bar where the Hartfords had me working and laid into me about the engagement. It’s a miracle no one heard her.”

“Shit… You’re sure no one heard?”

“Would we be having this conversation if the Hartfords knew I worked for McArthur?”

His sigh leaks through the phone. “Sorry, man. I’ll rein her in. I didn’t realize she’d even left the resort.”

“Well, she did, and her obsession is going to get me killed. She can torment me all she wants after the bullshit wedding, but I’m a free man for another few weeks. Keep her the hell away from me.”

“I will.”

“Oh, and you can tell McArthur I have confirmation the Dylans will be at the wedding. They want to get this deal done.”

The other end of the line goes silent. My heart rate picks up as three sets of eyes lock on me.

“Good,” Merrick says finally. “Hey, while I’ve got you on the phone, catering wants to know if you still want sprinkles on your wedding cake.”

A strange mix of relief and dread run through me. I force a grin for my audience. “Hilarious. You worried about the glitter as well?”

His quick laugh would sound genuine to anyone else. My pulse slams a chaotic rhythm through my veins.

“I’ll tell them to go with teal.”

“Nah. Let’s do silver.”

“Silver it is. Talk soon. And don’t call me again.”

With my fake smile still engaged, I hang up the phone and stare at Mama H.

“We good?” I ask.

Her hard stare scours me for several long seconds.

After an interminable silence, she relaxes and addresses her children. “Clean him up but keep a tight leash on him. He doesn’t even take a piss without someone watching him.”

A weight lifts from my shoulders as she retreats from the room.

Once she’s gone, Adrian’s glare slices into me before landing on Julia. “I’ll help you move this bastard to your place, so he doesn’t get away, but you’re taking it from there. If it was up to me, we’d be putting a bullet in his head, not playing nursemaid.”

Julia meets his glare. “And that’s exactly why Mama H chose me over you to succeed her. If you can’t see how valuable he is for our family’s positioning, then you’re even more clueless than I thought.”

“He betrayed us! Weaseled his way into your pants and gave our enemies god knows how much information!”

“Which is why we get revenge by using him to turn the tables on McArthur, not waste this incredible opportunity on playground grudges. What does killing him get us but another headache?”

Adrian’s glare turns hostile as he stalks forward and yanks me up from the chair. With my wrist still attached, the seat lifts in a painful jerk. He curses and shoves me to my knees beside it.

Within seconds a gun is at my forehead.

“Adrian…” Julia warns in a cool tone.

His hand shakes, rage building.

“Adrian! Enough,” Julia snaps.

Time stops.

My shallow breaths echo through the stale air.

I lift my gaze to Julia. If I’m going to die, I want her to be the last thing I see.

After several long breaths, Adrian drops his arm with a curse.

“You will be restrained at all times,” he barks at me. “You make one move I don’t like, and this bullet is yours, got it?”

“Got it,” I say.

“Look at me when you say it!”

I meet his icy stare. “Got it.”

His gaze continues to sear into me as unspoken threats cloud the air around us.

“Good. Now, put your other hand behind your back. Julia?” he directs at his sister.

I obey as Julia pulls out the key and lowers herself beside me. I don’t resist when she releases the cuff on the chair and attaches it to my other wrist.

Once I’m secured, Adrian grips my arm and drags me to my feet.

“Sprinkles and glitter? What kind of princess-party you throwing, anyway?” he grumbles as he shoves me toward the exit.

I don’t respond to the taunt. There’s no point.

I certainly don’t tell him it’s the kind of party that means Merrick caught my hint that I’ve been compromised.

I wince as cold water blasts my aching body.

“Give it a second. It’ll warm up soon,” Julia says over the thunder of the shower.

Her gaze moves along my half-naked body, but I can’t read anything in it. Anger? Sympathy? Lust? There’s nothing to go on as she tells me to turn and face the wall.

“You won’t be getting off Undertow, so running is pointless.” She frees my right hand from the metal restraints, then moves to the left. “If you try, these are going right back on.”

I nod and flex my sore wrists at my side. The freedom feels good, but the tingling and numbness in my hands speak of nerve damage. It’s not the first time I’ve experienced that sensation. It won’t be the last.

“I have four guns hidden in this house and I’m an excellent shot,” she continues.

I turn to meet her warning stare. A brief flash of pain moves over her face, but she quickly covers it.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” I say quietly. “What I felt for you?—”

“Don’t,” she warns. “I can’t right now, okay?”

She steps back and shuts the stall door between us. I watch her silhouette cross to the vanity, where it crouches down to fish through the cabinets.

My heart and mind are a mess as I spend the next few minutes trying to stay upright. The water stings every cut and bruise, but I’ve grown to like this pain over the years. It’s soothing in the way it burns and fades, burns and fades, like a pulsating beacon of life.

My movements as I bathe are slow and shaky, partly from the injuries, but mostly from the headache and dizziness. There’s no question the repeated blows to the head have resulted in a concussion. I don’t even want to know what a brain scan would look like after the life I’ve had.

“You okay in there?” Julia asks.

“Fine,” I reply. My voice sounds the opposite of fine, and I clear my throat.

With ginger movements, I push down my blood-crusted swim trunks and kick them to the corner of the stall. It’s probably been a day or two since I first put them on for my shift at the bar. We’re back at Julia’s house with my suitcase, but I can’t guess what they’ve done with my belongings or what they’ll allow me to have. I’m sure everything has been thoroughly searched, although Julia must have removed my most sacred objects or I’d be in a much different situation.

“You have two more minutes,” she calls out. “I put a toothbrush and toothpaste here for you too.”

She’s now settled against the bathroom door, arms crossed. I can’t see details through the steamy glass, but I can read her impatience clearly.

When I shut off the water, the silhouette straightens, grabs a towel from the rack, and slings it over the top of the stall.

“Thanks,” I say.

I run the fabric over my hair, then pat at my body with careful precision. The pale-yellow cloth is quickly tainted with splotches of brown and red. It’s always fascinated me how blood tells time with its coloring. So many things do.

I secure the towel around my waist and open the stall door.

Julia’s gaze passes over me in the silence, and this time there’s no question about her thoughts. She doesn’t even try to hide the desire burning through her. Part of her may hate me now, but a bigger part still wants me.

All of me wants her as she studies me with conflicted hunger.

“Here,” she says, waving at the toothbrush. “I’ll wait.”

She scoops up the supplies on the counter and steps into the hallway.

I feel her potent stare sliding over every inch of me as I brush my teeth. When I finish, I straighten and step away from the sink.

“The rest of your clothes are in the living room.” Her voice is strained. “I don’t need to cuff you, do I?”

I blink away drops of water sliding from my wet hair. “No.”

“Good. Move.”

She motions for me to exit the bathroom in front of her, then follows behind at a safe distance.

By the time we reach the living room, the air-conditioning has painted my wet skin with tiny bumps. My body tenses from the chill, especially after days of roasting in the sweltering shack.

“Sit,” she says, nodding toward the couch.

With her vigilant stare locked on me, she drops the medical supplies on the coffee table and backs toward my suitcase. She pulls out a pair of clean boxer-briefs and tosses them at me. I capture them against my chest.

“Put that on for now. I want to look at a few of those injuries before you get dressed.”

I swallow and obey, letting the towel drop once I’m covered.

Now that we’re past manipulative games, it feels good to lower myself to the couch without the weight of lies bearing down on me. There’s a new freedom in letting my mind and body do what they want instead of what they have to.

She perches on the coffee table in front of me, hesitating just a second before tipping my face to examine each side.

“Idiots,” she mumbles. “I don’t know what Mama H was thinking leaving them alone with you.”

“If you’re going to take your operation to the next level, you should invest in some interrogation training for your team,” I say.

She frowns and drops her hand to sift through the supplies beside her.

“That’s not funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny.”

Her gaze slides back to me. “I suppose as an RLC soldier, you’re the expert?”

I shrug. “You think that was the first time I’ve been chained up and tortured? At this point, it’s weirder when I’m not.”

She flinches, and maybe I regret my confession. “That’s really not funny.”

“The truth rarely is.”

Something works its way across her face as she applies ointment to a cotton swab.

“I’ve seen your scars,” she says finally. “Is that what they’re from?”

“Some.”

“And the rest?”

“You know how trees tell time with their rings? I guess my scars are my rings. Read them, and you know my story.”

“Like blood spatter?”

My eyes snap to hers. “You saw that entry in my journal.”

“It was the most disgusting, beautiful thing I’ve ever read. Stories being told in blood?”

“Which is why the story is up for interpretation.”

“Have you killed anyone, Jonah?”

The name slams me in my gut. Takes my breath away. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to hearing it again. I should have lied. Would it have been a lie? Who is Jonah? In a way he’s the lie, not everyone else I’ve become.

“Yes,” I say, meeting her gaze. Her eyes widen, then soften when I add, “but not by my hand.”

“The person died because they wanted to help you?”

I shake my head. “No one ever knew I needed help until it was too late.”

“Except Gramps?”

I lower my gaze and pull in a steadying breath. “Yes. Except him.”

“But he doesn’t know you were drawn back in.”

“No. When they called to say they found us and gave me the ultimatum, I told him I got accepted into a university. He was dying, fading away from years of strain and lack of care as a result of being on the run. He was going to die if he didn’t get help.”

I clench my eyes shut. Heat presses on the back of my lids, along with memories I will never escape no matter how far I run or how many cleansing stings I absorb in a scalding shower.

“Shaw…” Julia whispers.

I don’t correct her. I am Shaw. And Roman. And Everett. And every other name I’ve adopted over the years.

Her soft hand spreads over my cheek, wordlessly begging me to look at her.

“So you went back,” she finishes for me.

I nod and face her compassion again. “I had to.”

Tears glisten in her eyes as she gently strokes my damaged cheek with her thumb.

I don’t know how she can believe me after all the lies, but maybe that’s exactly why she does. Our souls have seen the truth in each other since the beginning. They knew what our brains didn’t, and now they’re screaming to be heard.

“Shaw, do you love me?”

“More than anything.”

“Did you have sex with me because you had to or because you wanted to?”

“I had sex with you because I didn’t know how to resist the only beautiful thing I’ve ever felt.”

A sob escapes her as she leans in and wraps her arms around me.

I pull her close and bury my face in her hair. The smell of citrus overwhelms me as I hold on. It hurts to fall back into the delusion of happiness. Touching her is life and death at the same time.

“What are we going to do?” she whispers.

I can’t speak for tomorrow, but for now there’s only one thing.

I pull back and draw her lips to mine.

She surrenders with a soft gasp, and I dive in harder. It feels so good to have her again, to taste the sweetness of love instead of pain.

I thread my fingers into her hair, locking her to me as our lips and tongues fight for any remaining shred of hope.

We will end in tragedy. It’s destined—Roman and Julia—but I’ve never lived for the end. I’ve never had a future to chase. My life is the present, and right now, the present is the only thing I want.

Distant pain screams from every part of my body. Each movement of my torn frame is agony and ecstasy, but only one thing owns me in this moment—one woman—and I’m ready to give her everything.

She pulls back with a grimace, and I wince at the blood on her lips.

My blood.

“Julia…” I move to wipe it off, but she beats me to it. Her fingertips gingerly drift over the spot. She stares at her fingers, before her tongue peeks out to run over her lips.

Her gaze flickers back to my face, and the heat drains into sadness, compassion.

She shifts closer again, but instead of a kiss, her palm gently cups my damaged cheek. Her gaze seems to run over every one of my wounds, then down my chest where it lingers on the scar from New Orleans.

“Spend the night with me,” she says softly. “Not for sex. I want all these stories. To have one night that’s real. Let me show you how I interpret these bloodstains.”

My heart stutters in my chest. I want that. More than anything. But it’s a fantasy as much as everything else.

“You already have,” I say. “Every moment with you has been real, Julia. Every fucking one.”

Her eyes cloud over, and she leans in for a gentle kiss. Her arms slide around me and we hold on for several painful moments.

“Stay with me, Jonah,” she whispers. “Just one night before it all goes to shit tomorrow.”

My lungs constrict. Longing like I’ve never known shudders through me. “I can’t. I want to, but I can’t.”

It physically hurts to separate from her, but I don’t have a choice. Despite her words, there’s only one interpretation of this story. One way it ends. It’s taken years, but I’m finally starting to accept the truth.

I scoop the handcuffs off the coffee table and hold them out to her. “Let me get dressed, then we finish this.”

Her expression falls as realization sets in. “No, Jonah. I’m not restraining you. I trust you.”

I shake my head. “It’s not about trust.”

Beneath Julia’s skeptical stare, I push up from the couch and move to my suitcase. After pulling on a pair of shorts and t-shirt, I head toward the front door.

“Where are you going?” she asks, eyeing me.

“To the porch.”

She flinches and watches through the open door as I lower myself to my knees by the railing. After looping the metal through the rungs, I clip one cuff to my wrist.

“A little help?” I call to her.

Her eyes scan me in stunned disbelief.

“Julia, please. There’s only one way this ends.”

She shakes her head and swats at her eyes. “No. I’m not giving up yet. There has to be?—”

“No one can find us together! If someone comes for me, they need to know you’re still on the correct side.”

Fresh tears assault her eyes, but she finally gets up and joins me on the porch. She kneels beside me but hesitates again.

“You have to trust me. This is my world. This is the story I’ve known my whole life,” I explain softly. “Just let me die knowing you’ll be okay. Please.”

Understanding mixes with resentment as she processes what I’m saying. After another long pause, she gives in.

The metal pinches my wrist in a clear testimony to her anger.

“This is bullshit,” she mutters.

I don’t argue. It is bullshit, but that changes nothing.

“Now what?” she asks impatiently.

“I wait. You go to bed.”

Her eyes dart to mine, now angry. “I’m not leaving you here like this.”

“I won’t be able to get away.” I tug on the metal for emphasis.

“That’s not what I mean,” she snaps.

She forces in a soothing breath.

“Shaw. Jonah. Listen to me for a second.” Her expression is soft and imploring as she lifts a palm to my cheek. Her thumb moves over my skin as she searches my eyes.

“I’ll be okay,” I say before she can continue. “Please, just go to bed.”

I don’t want you to see the rest.

The rest.

I’m not exactly sure what’s coming for me, but I know I don’t want her here when it does.

“I love you,” I whisper. “I’m sorry. If I could go back, the only thing I’d change is telling you that sooner so I could spend more time proving it to you.”

She blinks back emotion as she leans in and brushes her lips on mine. “I love you too. You’ve already done enough to prove it. I’ll see you tomorrow. We’ll figure this out.”

“Julia, wait.”

She stops and turns back, hope in her eyes. I hate that I have to kill it again.

“Four, six, one, three, nine, one,” I say.

Her brow lifts, and I swallow the ache in my chest. “The passcode for my phone. My real one. If something happens to me, can you contact Gramps? Tell him the truth and that I love him. Tell him how grateful I was for the chance he tried to give me, and I’m sorry.”

She blinks away more tears as she nods.

“And maybe, you could also keep my notebook?” My voice cracks on the subtle plea.

Please don’t let me be erased.

A choked sob escapes her as she wipes at her eyes. “I will treasure it, Jonah. I will memorize it until it’s part of me too.”

Despite everything, a smile crests on my lips. “Thank you. Then, maybe my story will have a better ending after all.”

She rushes forward and drops to her knees for a long tender kiss. “Your story isn’t over yet,” she whispers. “It can’t be. We’ll figure this out tomorrow.”

I manage a weak nod for her sake.

But she won’t see me tomorrow. She will probably never see me again.