Chapter 9 #2
He laughed. “No. I’m more afraid you won’t.”
With a wink, he closed the door a little more, leaving only a sliver of an opening.
He quickly shed his clothes and stepped into the shower.
Ignoring the hot-water handle, he turned on the cold water and thoroughly washed and rinsed his hair and body, letting it cool his engines.
He couldn’t keep thinking about her that way. Distractions cost lives.
He finished, turned off the water, and reached for the spare towel hanging on the rod. After toweling off, he looked for his clothes. Only then did he remember he’d left them in the other room.
Xavier wrapped the towel around his hips, ran a hand through his damp hair and stepped out of the bathroom.
Lissette stood in the middle of the room with a smile on her face, holding his clothes in her hands. “Forget something?”
His lips twisted. “I did.”
“Some women would think you did it on purpose.” Her gaze ran over him from his shoulders to where the towel draped over his thighs. “Does that kind of trick work?”
“You tell me.” He took another step toward her.
Her tongue swept over her lips. “Oh, yeah. It certainly does.”
All his self-coaching about not letting himself be distracted by his desire for her almost flew out the window. It took every ounce of his control to rein himself in and get serious. “I’ll take those.”
Lissette pouted a little and handed him the clothes. “Such a shame to cover all that,” she said with a flick of her fingers toward his torso and where the towel covered his growing erection.
He snatched the clothing and ducked back into the bathroom, closing the door firmly, more to keep him from acting on her flirty teasing than to maintain his privacy.
A moment later, wearing his jeans, he stepped out, pulling his T-shirt over his head.
She stood by one of the open boxes, holding a photo frame.
Xavier’s heart stopped, stuttered and kicked into high gear. He marched over, took the photo from her and buried it in the open box, his hand lingering on the metal frame, his chest so tight he could barely breathe. “You shouldn’t snoop through my private things,” he snapped.
“I’m sorry.” Lissette backed away as if she’d been struck. “The box was open, and the photo was on top. I was curious.” She lifted her chin. “So, sue me. I won’t do it again.”
For a long moment, Xavier stood, unable to let go of the frame.
He didn’t need to look at the photo to see the images.
It was the last photo he and his team had taken together before their final mission.
They’d posed for a moment, dressed in combat gear, holding their rifles or submachine guns, helmets off, smiling for the photographer, unaware that some of them would never smile for a camera again.
Berrelli and Fenton, all smiling along with everyone else. They’d gone out, confident and full of swagger, only to come home in body bags.
He didn’t hear her approach, his mind mired in grief and regret as he stared at the back of the frame he couldn’t let go of.
A hand touched his arm. “Hey,” Lissette whispered. “Are you all right?”
Xavier couldn’t speak past the lump in his throat. He started to nod and shook his head instead.
“They were your team,” she stated. Not a question. He didn’t have to answer.
A moment passed.
Her hand curled around his arm as she leaned into him. “I’m sorry.”
He swallowed hard, pushing back the lump. “So, you said.”
“I did.” She gently squeezed his arm. “I’m sorry I intruded on your privacy. I’m even sorrier for whatever happened to them.”
Xavier’s eyes burned. “It was supposed to be a quick mission. Get in, sweep the area for the enemy and get out. The village was supposed to be deserted.”
“It wasn’t,” she said softly.
“I should’ve known. I should’ve taken point, going in.
” He turned the frame over and stared down into the eyes of his team, his friends.
“They’d left one man behind, wearing a vest full of explosives—a goddamn martyr probably promised eternal life with Allah for his sacrifice.
I sent them in, thinking the building was empty. I failed them.”
“Did you set off the explosives?” she asked.
“I might as well have,” he responded, his voice husky with guilt. “They’d be here today if I hadn’t assumed the building was empty.”
“But you didn’t set off those explosives. The enemy did.”
“I should’ve been the one to die, not Berrelli and Fenton.” He stared down into the two men’s faces. “Berrelli,” he pointed to the one standing in the back row at the far right, “was expecting his first child. His wife almost miscarried when they gave her the news.”
Lissette’s hand tightened on his arm. “That had to be hard. Did she have the baby? Did it make it to full term?”
“She was put on bed rest until she was closer to her due date. She had the baby and named him after his father, a father he’ll never know.”
Lissette nodded but didn’t comment.
Xavier pointed to the man front and center, kneeling on the ground. “Fenton was only twenty-four, barely past his probationary period. It was his first real mission...and his last. The kid had barely begun to live.”
“If you had gone into that building instead of them and died, then what?”
He stared down at the two men he’d sent to their deaths. “Berrelli would’ve lived to raise his son. Fenton might’ve found a girlfriend, gotten married and had half a dozen kids.”
“Do you hear yourself?” Lissette asked.
“I sent them to their deaths.”
“You’re missing the point.” Lissette cupped his cheek and turned his head, forcing him to look at her. “They would’ve gone on with their lives.”
He frowned. “That’s what I said.”
She brushed her thumb over his lips. “But you didn’t go into that building. Have you moved on with your life, or have you been running from it ever since?”
He stared into her eyes, his frown deepening. “I lived.”
“Have you really?” she asked. “You said it yourself, that you keep moving. This place doesn’t feel like home. Have you let yourself set down roots? Have you found someone to love or started a family like Berrelli had?”
“No.” He stared into her eyes. “I don’t deserve it.”
“Bullshit,” she said and pressed her lips to his. “You didn’t set off those explosives. You didn’t kill them. They would’ve gone on with their lives if you’d died. They would’ve wanted you to do the same.”
Xavier gathered her into his arms and pulled her close, her softness and warmth thawing the chill he’d harbored for so long in his heart. For a long time, he stood there just holding her, never wanting to let go.
When her stomach rumbled loudly, he lifted his head and brushed his hand across her cheek. “Why is it you could put into words what five years of therapy never did? Thank you.”
Her lips twisted. “Don’t look at me like I’m some sort of angel.
I’m not. You’re a military hero. I’m an ex-con.
I tried to kill someone—your boss’s wife.
” Her gaze dropped to where her hands rested on his chest. “And I wanted her dead,” she said, barely above a whisper.
“She was everything I wasn’t. We were in school together when I came to live with my grandmother.
Shelby was always the smartest, nicest and most loved person in our school.
” She snorted. “I figured that my mother didn’t love me enough to raise me. Why should anyone else?”
“Every child deserves to be loved,” Xavier said.
“Not me.” Lissette’s fingers dug into his shirt, curling around the fabric.
“I was angry, acting out, always being taken to task for a piss-poor attitude. I didn’t fit in with my peers even after I graduated.
Everyone expected me to get into trouble, because that’s what I did.
I lived up to their expectations, while always looking for a place to fit in. ”
“And you found it.” Xavier cupped her cheek.