Chapter 12
Io stood in the bathroom and took her time folding her clothes. She wasn’t going to be able to delay forever, but when she returned to the room, Cal was going to see what she was sleeping in.
His T-shirt.
She always slept in an oversized T-shirt and a pair of panties, and because she’d expected to be in Puerto Jardin less than a week, she only packed one shirt.
But fate had tossed a few unexpected twists her direction.
Like being kidnapped. Like needing to protect her sister by helping the Special Forces team.
Like running into Cal.
He was supposed to be in Germany. It was supposed to be safe to sleep in his AC/DC T-shirt. The other option was one of her own shirts, but she liked shorter lengths. Less fabric to get in her way when she worked. If she wore her shirt, Cal would get a good look at her panties.
Once, she wouldn’t have thought twice about it.
Now? She didn’t want to give him the wrong idea.
Io smoothed her hand over the T-shirt. The black cotton had faded to charcoal and it was soft. Comfortable. And it was Cal’s.
Her clothes were meticulously folded, there was nothing left to do in the bathroom, and if she stayed any longer, Cal was going to check on her. All she could do was face the embarrassment of walking out in his shirt.
She made sure the chain around her neck was tucked away. His shirt was bad enough. He didn’t need to know she wore her wedding rings under it. Reaching for the stack of daytime clothes, Io opened the door and walked out.
Cal was crouched near his pack, sorting through the medical supplies they’d bought, but he looked up when she entered. For a moment, he only stared.
“I wondered what happened to that shirt.”
It took all of Io’s control not to flinch. Did he realize she’d taken it on purpose? That she hadn’t been able to walk away clean? She forced her voice steady. “Sorry. Must have grabbed it by mistake.”
“You brought it to Puerto Jardin.”
She shrugged, trying for a nonchalance she didn’t feel. “It’s comfortable.” She changed the subject. “You’re looking at the bandages. Is your arm hurting? Do we need to treat it again?”
He shook his head and stood. “Arm’s fine. Organizing and cataloging the supplies is ingrained. I couldn’t help myself.”
Nodding, Io headed to the far side of the room, set her clothes on the table, and pulled down the blankets on the bed farthest from the door.
Cal had claimed the other before she went into the bathroom, announcing it like he not only expected an argument but would welcome one.
Io hadn’t indulged him. She didn’t want to fight. Didn’t have the heart for it.
“Did you want to discuss our strategy for tomorrow?” she asked.
“It’s late. You want to wait until the morning?”
“That’s fine.” Io crawled into bed and tucked the covers under her chin. “I’m tired, and we should have time over breakfast.”
Cal hesitated. “I’m going to be in the bathroom. Call if you need me.”
He turned off the lights as he went, leaving only the lamp beside his bed, but Io didn’t relax until she heard the bathroom door close.
Her breath escaped in a long, slow sigh.
That could have been worse. Of course, if she’d been smart enough to bring a different shirt, it could have been better, too.
Under the blanket, she reached for her wedding rings, tracing the edges pressing against the cotton. Io had seen forever when he put the gold band on her finger. She’d believed she finally had someone who saw her. Someone who loved her.
Ayla loved her, sure, but that was different. Ayla didn’t have much choice; they’d only had each other for emotional support.
Io had little in common with her sister.
It had been different with Cal. They’d done more than wander the streets of Germany window-shopping.
They’d skied in the Bavarian Alps, snowshoed, cross-country skied, and damn, it had been fun having someone to share it with.
They’d talked about the things they wanted to do together in the summer, if Cal wasn’t out on an op.
And then suddenly the only plan was getting back to Los Angeles as quickly as she could. Going home so she could lick her wounds in private.
Io forced herself to lower her hand. She shared a link with her twin, and while blocking the telepathic component was second nature, it was harder to block the emotions. The last thing she wanted was Ayla picking up her sadness and regret.
The bathroom door opened. For a moment, he was just a silhouette—familiar shoulders, familiar stance—and her heart did something stupid. But then her heart had always been stupid where he was concerned.
Cal didn’t turn out the bathroom light. Instead, he cracked the door, left his clothes on the foot of his bed, and got under the blankets before turning off the lamp.
The glow from the bathroom was dim enough not to disturb, but bright enough that if an intruder got in, they’d be easily spotted.
She wasn’t surprised. He never took chances, not with her safety.
His mattress creaked as he shifted. Io turned far enough to see him tuck both hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling.
She couldn’t help it. She rolled to her side, facing him. The motion caught his attention. “I think we’ll recon the museum tomorrow before we reveal ourselves,” she said quietly. “Let’s make sure our Russian friends aren’t there before we go inside.”
“Agreed.”
“Good.” Her voice was choked, but questions pressed at her. Why was she only lovable when she was convenient? When she was easy? When she fit someone else’s idea of who she should be?
Blinking back tears, Io rolled onto her back. She was a long way from sleep, and tomorrow would be rough, especially on next to no rest.
She wasn’t sure how long she lay there when she heard Cal say softly, “I missed you, Wild Thing.”
There were so many possible responses—accusations, pleas—but Io settled for, “I missed you, too.”
The quiet stretched long enough that she thought the conversation was over.
It was a surprise when Cal spoke again.
“You disappearing in Trujillo scared the hell out of me. I only stopped searching for you long enough for quick catnaps. I didn’t want to take a break for food and usually ate while I moved.
I get that Fuentes surprised you, that you didn’t expect a woman, so the how is clear, but why did Fuentes grab you?
If you were kept unconscious, she couldn’t quiz you about the treasure.
Was it just to keep you out of her way?”
Io shifted so she could see him. Cal untucked his hands and turned on his side to face her, the mattress creaking again.
Their gazes locked and she couldn’t manage words.
It was too dim to see him clearly, but she’d memorized every inch of this man—the brown eyes, the dark hair that fell into his face, especially after he dragged his hands through it.
She knew every tattoo he had, every shade of ink, every swirl.
It was too easy to remember the nights spent in his arms while they talked quietly about everything and nothing.
Too easy to remember feeling safe. Feeling cherished.
And yes, feeling loved. Things had been so easy between them at first. She’d been making plans to live with him in Germany and work for Archer from there.
But somewhere along the way, she’d stopped being enough. Or maybe she’d never been enough to begin with.
Cal wanted a life built on steadiness and predictability, the kind of life her sister could slip into without effort.
Io wasn’t wired that way and she’d stopped trying to fit the mold years ago.
Loving her had become too much for him, or maybe she’d just been too much.
She’d felt him pulling away long before he finally told her to leave.
“I don’t know why Fuentes wanted me. She never said a word about that. Not that I was conscious for long.”
Cal studied her. Io didn’t know if he was looking for signs she wasn’t telling the truth, but she didn’t flinch from his scrutiny. Let him look. He wouldn’t see anything she didn’t want him to see. Living with parents who didn’t give a damn had taught her young how to hide her emotions.
“What did Archer think was going on?” he asked at last.
Io shrugged. “Archer said he’d investigate, but he sent me here because he knew nothing about Fuentes, so I don’t expect him to come up with any answers.”
“Then we need to work on this, because until we know why she wanted you, we can’t assume the threat from her is over.”
“Yeah.” Io blew out a long, slow breath.
She’d been so focused on protecting her sister, on getting to Torres, on escaping Petrova’s team, that she’d pushed Fuentes to the back burner.
“You’re right. We’ll have to put her on our to-do list, but damn, Cal, she’s slippery.
Oz said the house I was held in was cleaned out.
Not a clue to be found. That kind of thoroughness… ” She let her voice trail off.
“That kind of thoroughness is intimidating, but not insurmountable. We can investigate the property records for the house. Even in Puerto Jardin, there’s paperwork.
Deeds. Permits. Something. We can also go back there and do another search.
One during daylight hours where we can actually see things. ”
“You don’t trust Oz?”
“I trust him with my life. With your safety? That’s different. I guess I don’t trust anyone to care about it the way I do.”
“I know. You worry about me.” She pressed her lips together to keep from saying more. “We’ll figure out our order of operations in the morning. My understanding is that house is south of Trujillo.”
“We’ll need a car.”
“And we’ll have to hope someone else didn’t move in after Oz and Ski hauled me out of there. My understanding is that Petrova’s men showed up and several of them were previously in Russian Special Forces.”
“He brought a few former Spetsnaz, but most of the men with him aren’t high-level or highly skilled. More like muscle.”
“Not brains?”
Cal’s lips curved, but his tone stayed serious. “Enough brains to be a threat. Look at today with Boris and Bullwinkle.”
“True. I’ll remember not to underestimate them, although your using cartoon code names makes that difficult.” Io managed to smile at him across the narrow space between their beds.
He returned the smile, and warmth settled in her chest. Damn it. “You’re right, the handles do make it seem like I didn’t take them seriously. Believe me, Thing, I never underestimated them. I had to call them something, though, and that’s what came to mind.”
“It’s that fascination you have for classic cartoons. How’d you get hooked anyway?”
“My grandfather worked on some of those 1960s masterpieces. I grew up with framed cels on my bedroom walls.” Cal’s smile broadened. “If I didn’t suck so hard at art, and if everything wasn’t computerized, I might have become an animator, too.”
Io stared. This was new information. Not that she and Cal knew everything about each other—their relationship could be measured in months, not years—but it felt significant.
It made sense. Of course he wanted to create worlds.
He’d created one for her once. “I think you would have made a great animator. You pay attention to details.”
“It’s all different now. Not like in the old days. Besides, I still can’t draw, and believe me, I worked my ass off. Even my grandpa surrendered after years of trying to help me.”
“I know you worked hard. That’s one thing I’ve always appreciated about you.
The amount of effort you put into everything you do.
” A car in desperate need of a muffler drove past the hotel.
She couldn’t see it, but the noise made her recoil.
Cal wasn’t the only one taking in small details.
She’d been surviving on her instincts long before they met.
“I guess we better get some sleep. We have a heavy agenda tomorrow,” Io said.
“You’re right. Good night, Thing.”
“Night, Cal.”
Cal didn’t answer, but his smile lingered. It reminded her of all the times they’d lain together in bed, quietly talking.
Io turned onto her side, facing the wall this time, but she didn’t pull up the blankets. The air was thick, the room too warm, but the atmosphere felt lighter, as if some of the tension had drained away.
She listened to the rhythm of Cal’s breathing, steady and familiar. It used to lull her to sleep. It used to mean safety. Belonging. Things she hadn’t felt in a long time.
She wished they still had that. She wished she still had him.
Io wished she was easier to love.