“Yeah, well, she showed up.” Sawyer growled. “She hates me. There’s no changing that. She wants the team to go down for their threat to leave the IMPO and hide me when they considered executing me. She definitely wants me in a cell, probably right next to Axel.”
“No.” Quinn snarled. “James.”
“I can’t fix all the problems you guys keep dropping in my fucking lap,” James snapped. “Quinn with IMAS. All of you versus a fucking WMC Councilwoman, which by the way, you all started. The Director of the IMPO is breathing down my neck. He wants this team to be the pinnacle of perfection. No slip-ups.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Sawyer then decides to attack an agent in the halls. Quinn threatened an IMAS Colonel and his staff. Do any of you have good news? Any at all? Is there something you have done on this trip I can actually use?”
“My review went well,” Vincent answered. “They only asked questions about how I felt with Axel being in prison. They didn’t question my loyalty.”
“My review was easy, but it always is. They’ve never looked too deep into me.” Elijah didn’t seem concerned. “Jasper? Zander?”
“Yeah, it was whatever,” Zander spoke up.
“They asked about how I was managing the leg,” Jasper added. “Nothing serious.”
“So their targets are Quinn, for whatever IMAS wants, and Sawyer to…” James looked at her and she shrugged back at him. “Well. I think we all know why they don’t like you.”
“What was that about her attacking someone in the halls?” Vincent narrowed his eyes at her and she shrugged.
“Stupid asshole spit in my face. I put him on the wall. I didn’t hurt him. Just held him and talked for a minute. What’s this about Quinn and IMAS?”
Sawyer listened to all of them try to explain at once but eventually James won out. He explained that IMAS wanted Quinn to go to the Amazon rainforest to help handle a situation with potentially aggressive Druids. Her blood ran cold. Her problems with the Councilwoman were political. Running off to fight Druids? That was life-threatening in a much more real sense.
“No,” she declared. “Absolutely not.” She spun to Quinn. “You’re not going.”
He crossed his arms. “I don’t want to go, so it’s not going to happen.”
“Good.” She nodded, accepting that. “I wouldn’t let you anyway. Not alone, that’s for damn sure.”
“With that settled…” Vincent said, smiling to Elijah like there was a joke. “Are we done here for the day?”
“Yes,” James confirmed. “I’ll clean up these messes.”
“Wait.” Sawyer shook her head. “You and I need to talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” he retorted.
“What’s wrong?” Vincent looked between them, confused.
“She found out I’m the handler for the…previous team.” James answered.
Sawyer crossed her arms like Quinn had. Intimidating was what she was going for.
“It’s not a thing, Sawyer,” James stressed. “It’s not. I don’t blame you for them, I blame Axel. They knew what they were getting into. They knew things could go south. Maybe not in that way, but they knew. Honestly, looking back, I’m glad you still somehow got out. We all knew you were a kid in too deep. Your messages to us made that clear.”
“I’m not a kid anymore,” she told him.
“You all are. Mid-twenties? Children.” James scoffed, grinning. “Four and a half years. I’ve had my time to grieve. You just keep doing right and stay out of trouble.”
“Easier said than done,” she muttered, grinning herself. She was light-hearted. If he wasn’t mad at her, then she wouldn’t be mad at herself.
“Let’s get out of here,” Zander said in a tone that irked her. He was complaining. “Before we find more ways to make James upset.”
“I’m not upset!” James laughed. “Frustrated as hell that you’re my team, certainly. Go. Vincent, you’re taking Sawyer to a show this trip?”
Sawyer noted that James didn’t say on a date and that was telling. Did their handler not know?
“I am. Make sure no one gives us a hard time, please.” Vincent answered. “We’ll make sure nothing looks too suspicious.”
“Thank you for that.” James left them then and Sawyer let out a long sigh.
“Today has sucked. He doesn’t know?”
“It would put him in a bad position,” Jasper explained to her. “We’ll keep this between us until things look less…fragile.”
“I understand,” she whispered, just staring at the door James left through.
“Let’s go have a good night,” Vincent murmured as he walked closer. “We leave New York on Thursday. We’re already halfway done.”
What a trip it was already. Sawyer was looking forward to getting back to Georgia. The WMC could be assholes in New York. She didn’t care as long as she was going back to Georgia with the guys.
12
Sawyer
Sawyer showered and took the extra time to blow dry her hair once they were back at the hotel.
Another date with another boyfriend. She was going from politics and fights with her ‘co-workers’ to a date with Vincent. Her boyfriend. It didn’t seem right.
“That’s a word I’m never going to get used to,” she mumbled to herself as she straightened her hair. She figured, with the dress, wearing her hair down would be nice. She hadn’t straightened it since before everything. Before Atlanta, before they caught her. She wondered if Vincent would notice.
He would. She scoffed, rolling her eyes at herself in the mirror. He would notice and probably have something to say. What, she didn’t know, but Vincent noticed everything.
“The show begins at eight,” Vincent had told her when they got back to the hotel. “Meet in the lobby at six thirty.” She desperately wanted to know what he had planned that required evening wear.
She started getting ready at three and spent the entire three hours getting ready. It was methodical. She made sure everything about her outfit was perfect. The long, simple black gown, the thigh highs, since she hated wearing panty-hose but needed something. She even applied some makeup, having picked out just a few items. Eyeliner, eyeshadow, and a touch of lipstick, just enough to nearly hide the scar on her lip.
Not like it would have changed anything. The dress showed off the scar on her chest and that was going to draw attention to her. It always did. It was one of the main reasons she avoided dressing up. A tank top with normal people was one thing but the scar was so at odds with the dress.
She didn’t see any of the guys on her way downstairs at six thirty-five. There was no reason for her to be running late other than her own slowness. She was feeling nervous.
Sawyer saw him in the lobby. The tux was perfection and all black. She smiled at the fact that his hair, dark and curly, wasn’t styled to perfection, but loose and clean. He didn’t shave either. Vincent’s classic stubble gave him the rough handsomeness that Axel had never had.
“You look stunning,” he whispered as she got closer.
“You do too,” she replied. She didn’t say anything else. He was going to have to point out she was late.
“You straightened your hair. I love it,” he said, running his fingers gently through it. It was so intimate for where they were, the hotel lobby where so many people could see them. “Your hair was straight the night we met. I liked it then too.”
“The night we met…” Sawyer thought about that. “Fight Night. I remember seeing the scar on your chest. You tried to hit on me.”
“I did.”
“An act?” she asked, as they started walking out of the hotel.
“At the time, yes. I would have handcuffed you that night,” he admitted, chuckling. “I won’t tonight, promise.”
“That’s good to know,” Sawyer said, chuckling herself. “Will anyone else?”
“Elijah likes handcuffs in general, so he might try again one day.”
She had no idea if he was being se
rious or not by his nonchalant tone. She didn’t want to question it. Elijah could keep his fucking handcuffs to himself if it was the case. She wasn’t interested.
“So what are we seeing?” She let him get the door and waited for him outside.
“You’ll see,” he answered simply.
She narrowed her eyes on him playfully, a smirk toying on her lips, but he ignored her to open the car door for her to get in.
Once they were driving she asked again. “Vincent, what are we seeing?” She was more serious this time. She really wanted to know. “I don’t really like surprises.”
He let out a suffering sigh and side-eyed her a little. “La bohème,” he answered, tentatively.
She didn’t respond, taking that in. That was an opera. That was an opera she’d seen with Axel. It was one she sang a song from in her car the night she drove Vincent home and he’d been drunk.
“Why?” She barely got the word out.
“Because I want it to be a good memory,” he whispered.
“For who?” She didn’t like how strangled she sounded. Why did this upset her? It was just an opera.
“Us.”
She felt that tension at the back of her eyes. That precursor to tears.
“We don’t have to go.” He stopped them at a red light. “We can do anything else.”
“No.” She took a deep breath. “I just need more of an explanation.”
“I don’t want this to forever be something that belongs to him. He already haunts your nightmares, Sawyer, are we going to give him this too?”
She didn’t know how to respond. She looked down at her hands. She curled her fingers on her left hand and noticed that, closed in a fist, from a certain angle, she couldn’t see that her ring finger was missing. She could pretend that it never happened, but it would always be there.
Vincent was taking her to something he loved, hoping she would enjoy it more since it was with him and not Axel. He was hoping to take something out of Axel’s power, erase some of the pain. The opera never tortured her. It was a memory that could be reworked into something else, unlike her missing finger. She could give it to Vincent. He was right…Axel had enough of her. He didn’t deserve this anymore.
“We can see the opera together,” she said, looking back up to the road. The tears in her eyes blurred her vision. What Vincent was doing meant so much. She didn’t let him in on her nightmare issues, but he was finding his own ways to make them work, to give them something. “I understand your reasoning.”
“Did I screw this up?” He sounded concerned.
“No,” Sawyer answered. She gave him a small smile. “No. We’ll see the opera and we’ll have fun. We’ll have a late-night dinner, or order room service. Something like that.”
“Thank you. I knew you possibly wouldn’t enjoy this but…it’s something we both know and…”
“I actually liked the opera; did you know that?” she cut him off. “The first half a dozen times, it was like this. Dressed up, beautiful. I was in love with the music and voices and the performance. I was slowly learning Italian.” She looked at his profile. He was listening to her, glancing over to her as he drove. “Nothing ever happened there. It’s just a date. I’m okay with you deciding this should be ours now. You’re right. He doesn’t get this too. Not anymore.”
They finished the drive in silence. He took them to the Metropolitan Opera House and led them in after parking. She had never visited before and just took in the scenery. As they entered the theatre, she took in a breath at the deep reds and golds of the room. He took her left hand and they entwined their fingers, hiding their hands between them so no one saw it.
“This is gorgeous,” she whispered, in some awe. She had seen beautiful theatres before, but she never got used to them. Years since her last opera, it felt like she was at her first one again.
“It is,” he agreed. “I want to bring Quinn one day. I think he would be mystified. I considered this trip, but I don’t think he’s ready for all of this.”
“I think so too.” She chuckled. A grin took over her face. “He’s not ready for all of this. Does he even own a suit?”
“No, he doesn’t. Let’s find our seats.”
Once seated, Sawyer leaned onto Vincent’s shoulder. She didn’t put her head down on him, just relaxed against him, shoulder to shoulder. They watched others take their own seats, silently waiting for the show to start.
They kept their hands together. His thumb rubbed the back of her hand and she tried to grab it when it began to tickle a little.
“Stop that,” she mock-whispered.
“No,” he said plainly, holding her hand tighter. “Tell me something.”
“What?”
“Which is your favorite opera?”
“La traviata,” she answered.
“Good choice.”
“I like to think so.” She smiled and saw one taking over his face as well. “This was a very good idea, Vincent.”
“I’m glad. I should have warned you earlier.”
“No. I might have looked for a way not to come, but you’re right. This shouldn’t be his.”
“I like it being ours,” Vincent whispered, leaning closer to her.
“I do, too.”
The lights went down and the show began. They held hands through all of it, only separating for the intermission to use the restroom. They took each other’s hands the moment they were back together, only smiling as the intermission ended and singing began again.
At one point, Sawyer closed her eyes and just took it in. The male singer was powerful and experienced. He took her away, on a journey to somewhere else. Vincent squeezed her hand, bringing her back, and she just leaned over and kissed his cheek gently. In the dark, she wasn’t concerned about anyone seeing them.
He turned into the small kiss and captured her lips for a longer one. Nothing overtly passionate, but her breath was taken away by it anyway. She wanted him. She ran a hand up his thigh teasingly to let him know.
They didn’t need to say or do anything else. The look Vincent gave her told her everything she needed to know.
When it was over, they practically ran back to the car. Back at the hotel, she went into his room with him and kissed him harder, grabbing his tux to hold on. He held her hips to his own.
“No room service?” he asked in a husky voice that made goosebumps over her skin.
“No,” she whispered.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
One of his hands slid up and found her zipper. He tugged it down slowly and she stepped back so the dress could fall in a pile of black fabric. He looked her over hungrily and she felt beautiful. She didn’t feel this way very often, truly beautiful.
Then he reached for her again and ran a hand over one of the gunshot scars on her stomach.
“Missy,” she finally gave him the answer. She wondered why she hadn’t told him yet. It didn’t matter. He was still looking at her like she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
“I don’t care,” he whispered. Then he kissed her again and she melted. She slowly undid the buttons of his jacket and he shook it off. She worked on his shirt next. She took her time, as he kissed over her jawline to her ear. She moaned as he nibbled on her earlobe.
When his shirt was gone, she pulled him by his waistband deeper into the room. He growled at her when she backed into the bed. He leaned down and reached around her thighs, pulling her off balance to fall back. She watched him undo his pants and pull off his undershirt. He seemed a little shy, and she wondered if he was nervous. They weren’t drunk this time. This time, they were both very sober and there was no grief weighing over them.
“Come on,” she called out to him, moving up into the center of the bed. He stripped quickly after that and moved over her. He removed her black thong reverently. It was the only way she could describe how slowly he did it, kissing the small bit of flesh he revealed while he did. “Vincent,” she sighed out.
“Okay.” She moaned as his mouth connected to her core. He was gentler than Zander had been. Vincent was slow. He appreciated her like a fine wine. She ran her hands through the dark curls of his hair and watched. She came for him, not with a scream, but a whimper, and when he came up, she was caught in the dark olive gaze that she loved. It was all Vincent.
He didn’t hesitate to kiss her as he slid in slowly. She could taste herself there, but that didn’t bother her. She wrapped her arms around him and let him push her again to another peak. Slow and easy.
Vincent was like a dark harbor in the storm. He was also the storm. Or maybe their lives and pasts were the storm. He picked up the speed and strength of his thrusts and she clung to him, burying her face in his neck.
“Sawyer,” he purred in her ear. He hooked one of her legs, pulled it up and the next thrust was deeper than the previous. She screamed out his name in return. She hadn’t thought he could do that.
She continued screaming at the new angle. Just hung on for the ride as he kept up the pace. Her next orgasm was like the high note of the song, a crescendo that was climatic and powerful.
He didn’t stop, pulling her leg to wrap around his thigh. He moved to lie to the side and they were still face to face as he continued at a slower, softer pace. They were a tangle of limbs as he pushed to finish, holding her tightly as they both panted softly.
Once he was done, they untangled, and she laid her head on his chest. She was feeling good. It wasn’t explosive like Zander, but it didn’t need to be. Vincent knew how to make her body sing in the ways he wanted it to. She wished she could appreciate it more, without the nightmares. This had been wonderful.
“Sleep here? I know you haven’t been.”
“I will. I normally can’t sleep in new places,” she whispered, not wanting to ruin the peaceful and contented feeling that had settled over them. She should go back to her room. She knew she should, but she didn’t have the heart to say no to him, get up, and leave. She wanted him. She wanted to cuddle and see how he woke up in the morning. He was hers and she felt a moment of guilt for neglecting him as she handled her own issues. “I’ll stay tonight.”
The Redemption Saga Box Set Page 79