by Addison Jane
Kace huffs in agreement, looking at me out of the corner of his eye before taking a long sip of his drink.
His words hit me right in the gut like a fucking sucker punch. I screw up my nose, sitting forward in my seat and bracing my elbows on my knees. “Don’t start with me, Colt.” I know that look from my best friend isn’t just about my mom, but about Everly too. “I hurt Everly, and I turned into someone I didn’t recognize.”
“People make mistakes, Luca,” Dean cuts in, his face serious and his eyes cutting through me as if he can see right inside my very soul. “Your mom made one big mistake, one that she hated herself for until the day she died. The question is, can you forgive her for that, knowing what you know now?”
My breath catches in my throat and for a second the words, hell fucking no, tickle the end of my tongue, but there’s something that stops me.
I love what I do, and because of how hard I fought, I managed to get myself to a place where a lot of people could only ever dream off. All because of the events that happened in my life, all because she decided to give me a different life than the one she was offering.
So, I guess I have her to thank for the opportunities I’ve been given, the friends who appeared in my life, and the all the people I’ve met and rescued and fought for.
“Yeah,” I mutter in disbelief of even myself. “I do forgive her.”
Dean’s eyes sparkle, and I see for a moment his bottom lip quiver, then he hits me with a question that makes me reconsider everything. “Then how come you can’t forgive yourself?”
TWO WEEKS LATER
I’m standing outside The Agency gym, my workout bag slung over my shoulder, and my body slumped as I wait for Brandon to finally arrive. He’s already fifteen minutes late, and I’m tempted to just walk away and skip the damn training session that’s been arranged for me. To say I was disappointed when he took over my training from Luca is an understatement. Part of me would have rather had Luca came along to the gym and yell at me from the sidelines. That would have been the most interaction we would have had in the past month, and secretly, I would have grasped onto it with everything that I had.
But no, instead, I get stuck with mister ‘hey little lady.’ My body instantly shudders as I hear his voice in my head, those words mixed with his condescending tone, makes me want to punch him in the damn face.
“Hey, Everly…” I look up, the tension in my shoulders easing as I see Zeb and Reid’s smiling faces walking down the corridor toward me. “Who you waiting for?”
“Brandon,” the word slips from my mouth as if it’s rotten, and the pursed look on my face makes the boys both frown. “He’s fifteen minutes late.”
Reid cringes. “Yeah, that’s like a running theme with Brandon. We sometimes wonder if he even learned how to tell time, because he certainly can’t keep to it.”
I can’t hide the disappointment even as I look at these two guys who I’ve developed a great working relationship with over the past few weeks. Leaving the SO7, and knowing how much this mission means to them, was really hard. Then being stuck with Reid’s team, the SO9, and the four other bozos in it has made it that much harder. But I will continue to power through, because Axel deserves answers, and I know I’m the only one able to protect Kenzi if shit does hit the fan.
“How did I get stuck with him and not one of you guys?”
Reid sighs and dips his head. “Sorry Ev, he went to our unit leader and offered his services before it could be offered to either of us.”
By the look on Zeb’s face, he isn’t at all happy about the situation. He shakes his head before meeting my eyes. “You let us know if he does anything you don’t like,” he states with complete seriousness, the quiet but strong tone to his voice sending a chill through me.
Reid and Zeb have been like protective older brothers since I moved from the SO7, and I couldn’t be more thankful. If I’d been stuck with Brandon and his cronies by myself, I’m not sure I would have made it out of the meeting room without being in handcuffs.
“Has there been any more information come through that can help us move this mission forward?” Reid asks, shuffling from foot to foot. Reid’s a lot like Kace. He’s patient and calm but he doesn’t like waiting around, he needs to keep moving. He wants to get in, get the job done and get out—in one piece.
I lick my lips nervously. “Um… it’s coming slowly, but I’m being cautious, so I don’t alert them to what I’m doing. People like this, they always have someone watching any odd activity or searches online that could show someone’s looking for them.”
Zeb nods in understanding, and Reid releases a frustrated groan and rolls his eyes. Zeb jabs him in the ribs with his elbow before looking back to me with a wide grin. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
I nod and throw back a thankful smile, but guilt is swirling in my stomach. I haven’t told anyone I’ve been secretly speaking with Noah and having him help me with details of the case. I shouldn’t be allowing him in on the mission, given that the SO7 were banned from having any kind of input what-so-ever, but of everyone, Noah is the one I feel like I can trust the most. He’s willing to help, and he will do it without questioning my abilities or whether I can do my job, and he will keep what we find to himself unless urgent.
“Can you get Brandon run over, so I don’t have to work with his misogynistic ass?” I throw back and the boys both snort with laughter.
Zeb winks, and for a second I feel my cheeks blush. “I’ll punch him for you.”
I shake my head with a smirk. “Maybe you didn’t hear me. I need him run down. Squashed flat. You know, not breathing. It wouldn’t just be a favor to me. Every woman in the world would be indebted to you.”
Reid’s amused grin stretches right across his face, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Maybe he’ll get lost during the next mission,” he hints and shrugs his shoulders like it would be no big deal for one of his men to ‘accidentally’ go missing. I can’t help but giggle.
“Who’s going to get lost?”
My stomach clenches, threatening to expel my breakfast and the laughter in my throat instantly dries up as Brandon rounds the corner with a backpack slung over his shoulder. I turn my body slightly away from him and look at Zeb and Reid. “Help me,” I whisper with dramatically wide eyes… not completely joking.
Brandon steps up beside me, and I fight the urge to screw up my nose and shuffle away from him. He shoves me, but what was meant to be a playful jest, sends me stumbling into Reid. He catches me, holding onto my arm to stop me from faceplanting on the floor. When I look up and meet his eyes, I can see the genuine worry in them, but he tries to cover it with a sympathetic look.
“Ready for some rough and tumble, little lady?” Brandon asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Gonna get down and dirty and see what you’ve got.”
I can again feel the vomit rising in my throat at the thought of getting anything with him, especially down and dirty. The southern accent is one that should make a woman swoon, remind you of a gentleman tipping his cowboy hat as he holds the door for you, but coming out of Brandon’s mouth, it’s like nails on a fucking chalkboard.
An arm sweeps around me, herding me toward the gym door and away from Reid and Zeb. It concerns me for a few seconds when I see such real worry and concern etched on their faces as I’m directed away, and my gut sinks to the floor because I’m about to find out why.
Brandon’s way of teaching is almost opposite to Luca’s. Where Luca is intent on having a strong defense and being aware of your surroundings, Brandon believes in attack, attack, attack.
Hit them first before they even have a chance to hit you.
It’s not exactly an odd concept, but even I know it isn’t one that works every single time. You have to be prepared, you have to be focused, be listening and watching, anticipating. As I get started with my training, I don’t have time to practice those things Luca has ingrained in me, because he’s constantly screaming, ru
nning at me, trying to scare me senseless in some kind of effort to prove that I’m a weak woman who can’t survive in a man’s world. He’s intense, he’s fast, and as we continue on for a while, he’s furious in his attempts to outwit and outmaneuver me.
“Come on, you have to hit me at least once, or I’m gonna start calling you Neverly,” Brandon taunts as he wipes the sweat from his brow. I clench my fists, gritting my teeth. My body is aching, my stomach is twisted, and bruises are already making themselves known on my skin. I never expect anyone to go easy on me because I’m a girl. Luca never gave me any slack, but he also never punched me back. Because that isn’t the point of this. The point is to learn, to develop skills. Not learn how to be someone else’s punching bag.
I move forward, breathing heavily as Brandon ducks back and forth as if imitating a professional boxer but instead just looking like one of those stupid bobbleheads that people have on the dashboard of their car.
“Girls can be fast, I’ve seen it before, but only if they’re trained properly,” Brandon continues to babble, running his mouth and speaking like he knows I’ll never be one of those girls. “But you will never match me in strength, women just aren’t made to beat men.”
He’s wrong. Only blockheads like him believe shit like that.
“Most males out there will tell you that there’s no way you could fight them and win,” Luca said, holding up the punching pads on either side of his face, his hair slicked back with sweat. My breathing was steady, and even as I threw a left, a right hook and then came at him with a high kick, aimed at his ribs, he deflected it, of course. But the power behind my kick made his body wobble and filled me, empowering me to fight harder. “The truth is, they’re only telling you that because they want to deter you. They think if you hear it enough, you’ll convince yourself it’s true and give up.”
Left. Right. Kick.
“But what if they’re bigger? What if they’re stronger?” I asked breathlessly. “You can’t tell me that I’m going to be able to take on a bodybuilder or a professional MMA fighter.”
Left. Right. Kick.
Luca snorted. “See. They’ve already won. Because you’re already convinced you can’t do it. So why bother even trying, right?” The typical Luca sarcasm was sneaking back in.
Left. Right. Left.
The punch caught him in the shoulder and pushed him back as he moved his hands to prepare for the kick he thought was coming.
When I expected him to get angry, he simply looked up and me and laughed. “Ah, now she gets it.”
I threw my hands in the air. “I can’t understand your cryptic comments, you’re like the damn Riddler!”
“They might be stronger, they might be bigger, they might be faster. But that just means you have to be smarter. You have to use what abilities you have that they might not. You have to take the chances that might not be fair. They might not be normal,” he rambled on, swinging the pad over my head and making me duck. “You need to think outside the box, use whatever you need to use to win, because one day… it might be the difference between whether you walk out of there or whether they do.”
“Come on, little lady!” Brandon yells, bringing me back to the present. His face is red and flushed, and his eyes are darting around like they have a mind of their own and are lit up on methamphetamines.
In this second I make a choice. I’m not going to let someone like Brandon make me feel inferior. I’m stronger than that… no, I’m smarter than that.
I grab the hem of my shirt and pull it up over my head, the sweaty, wet material clinging to my skin as I peel it off. “Phew,” I say, making my way toward him and tossing my shirt off to the side, so I’m only left in my sports bra and spandex shorts that leave little to the imagination. That’s another difference between Brandon and Luca. The instant I’m showing more skin, it’s like Brandon’s body stops and zeros in, looking at me like I’m prey and he’s ready to take a bite. I’d tried this with Luca, thinking him of all people would be entranced by seeing my naked body, but in this room Luca’s different, he’s professional and he’s focused.
Luca became the man that everyone questioned he could be. His sarcasm and quick wit instantly make people think he’s incapable. But his team and his friends, they see this side, the side of Luca that’s worked his fucking ass off to get to where he is, that takes his job seriously, that wants to be there and risk his life for those of others.
Brandon—I’m quickly realizing—is just here for the power trip.
I manage to get to two feet in front of him, his eyes are focused on my breasts, completely unaware of what I’m doing. Luca said use what I could, be smarter, not stronger.
My muscles clench, and I draw back my fist before Brandon has a chance to snap out of his haze, and with Luca’s voice echoing in my head, I give him everything I have.
Left. Right. Kick.
Brandon stumbles backward, and I step back myself, putting distance between us, knowing he’s going to come at me. I need time to prepare, but I also can’t fight the smile the pulls at my cheeks as I watch him dab at the blood running from his nose.
I thought maybe he’d make some sarcastic comment, tell me that I won’t be able to do that again or that it was a one-off. Instead, my eyes widen as I watch the heat consuming him, like a raging bull spotting a red flag, and I’m the one waving it.
He focuses in on me, but I can already tell there will be no playful comments.
I start to back away, but with each step I take, he takes one toward me. It’s like a dance, one that I already know isn’t going to end up well. I shouldn’t be scared, I should be ready to fight back, to get myself out of this situation as if it were the real thing. But the look in Brandon’s eyes has me fearing for my life, and he’s meant to be on my team.
I can’t shoot him. I can’t hurt him. This isn’t meant to be like this. It isn’t meant to be this real.
Suddenly, he’s coming at me, fists are flying, and I feel them skimming past my face as I duck and block, fighting to protect myself, fighting for what I feel like is my life against someone who’s meant to be protecting me.
My body is already exhausted, and I can’t keep up. “Please, sto—”
Brandon grabs my shoulders, lifting my body off the ground for a brief second before forcing me backward. For a second I think I hear a deep voice roar through the gym, and then with a thump, the air is knocked from my lungs, and my head is thrown backward, smashing against the reinforced steel wall.
Everything goes foggy, and my body crumbles to the floor. Pain shoots through me, and I scream out as it feels like my head is being split in two as I begin clawing at it with my hands.
There’s heavy footsteps, someone running, their body thumping against the floor, getting closer and closer. I have the urge to move away, to cower and hide but I know that voice.
Blinking through the haze, two heavy-set forms stand head to head, my eyesight is hazy, but when I see one of the men standing at least two feet over Brandon, I know exactly who it is. His dark skin and shaved head just confirm my suspicions.
My body is aching all over. I try to speak, but even my lips don’t want to move in the ways that I’m asking them too. I can’t form the words. The deep voices get louder, the two men stepping closer and closer to each other. A flash of movement, too fast for my eyes to follow has the smaller man flying across the gym, and landing in a crumpled heap on the floor, much like I was.
Eli falls to the ground beside me, his hulking body crouching beside mine. “Everly?” his voice is soft. It’s unexpected, and my mind is confused. “Everly, are you okay?”
I lick my lips, trying again to get them to move in the way I need them to. “M-My he-head,” I manage to finally mumble as my eyes start to feel heavier than they did before.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Eli growls, gently tapping my cheek. I raise my hand to swat him away. He reaches out, touching the back of my head. A sharp jolt of pain shoots through me like an electric s
hock, and I scream and writhe on the ground. “Damn it,” Eli curses, the bright crimson color smeared across his hand is obvious to me, even through the blur of tears.
“I was teaching her,” Brandon’s voice begins to protest, my body curling in on itself as he limps toward us. Eli is on his feet instantly, meeting my attacker halfway.
“You were not teaching her. You were trying to intimidate her. Show her who was boss and how much of a fucking man you are,” Eli roars back, shoving Brandon in the chest. “Well, we will see how much of a man you are when Luca gets a hold of you.”
Luca, my safe place. Just hearing his name makes my body relax.
Eli will get Luca.
Luca will make everything okay.
“Everly,” Eli’s voice calls out as I close my eyes and give in to the darkness.
Luca will be here soon.
The hospital sheets squeak every time I move. They feel like plastic, and the fact that the hospital gown I’m wearing doesn’t tie all the way up at the back, leaving my ass hanging out, isn’t exactly making me want to stick around here either.
Yes, I’m feeling pretty fucking worthless. My head hurts despite the drugs they’ve given me, and my stomach is still churning even after I’d vomited away the entire contents over the nearly two hours that I’ve been in this damn fucking hospital.
I’ve officially been admitted to stay overnight. Twelve stitches and a reasonable amount of blood later, I figure it’s probably the right decision, even though I would feel a lot better at home in my own bed.
“We need to keep monitoring you,” the doctor orders, as he scribbles some notes and details on his special little chart while the nurse takes more vitals. “There are a lot of dangerous things which can happen inside the body, and especially the brain after an injury like yours. I’m ordering an MRI scan just to check there isn’t more damage than we’re seeing. Although, your skin is already telling a different story.” I don’t miss the harsh tone, I honestly don’t blame him. I haven’t told any of them what had actually happened. The ambulance picked me up outside the museum, The Agency’s cover, and all I said was that I’d fallen. Obviously, after my time with Brandon, I’m already beginning to show signs of bruising and marks that aren’t exactly cohesive with my story.