Butterfly Ops

by Jen Doyle

  He laughed. “Sorry—it’s just hard to think of him with anyone other than Abby.”

  “Oh.” That was so not the response she’d expected—or wanted—to hear.

  “Wow, I’m doing a great job here, aren’t I?” Brooks said. Then he apologetically offered, “Well, I do have to admit, he has been in an exceptionally good mood this week.”

  Lyndsey smiled, appreciating the effort. “He did say there had been some comments.”

  “Yeah, but I never put much faith in locker room speculation.” Brooks sat back as the waitress arrived and started passing plates of food around. “And even if I did…” He smiled and shook his head as he looked over at Ian. “Bastard,” he muttered. “And here we all were figuring you were off-limits because you work for Cain. Either that or you were with Matt.”

  Blushing, Lyndsey looked down at her drink. She’d been so focused on Ian this week, it had never occurred to her anyone else would be interested. The last time she’d had that many of Ian’s friends thinking about her they’d been trying to kill her.

  Speaking of people who had tried to kill her… “Matt?” she asked, knowing the skepticism came through 100% in her voice.

  “I know.” Brooks shrugged. “No one really got it—some of the guys were actually a little pissed off. Sarah’s like the den mother around here. But Ian and Matt were so weird about you…”

  He was obviously uncomfortable with this conversation, and yet Lyndsey couldn’t help but ask, “It’s more likely Matt would cheat on his wife than that Ian would be seeing somebody?”

  Brooks smiled as he took another drink from his bottle. “Ian doesn’t date. That’s pretty much one of the golden rules around here.”

  Sitting back in her chair, Lyndsey tried not to let on how much that bothered her. It wasn’t like she hadn’t realized he loved Abby, she just… Well, it said a lot that an entire team would peg Matt—who was clearly head over heels in love with his wife—as an adulterer before even considering Ian might be interested in someone other than Abby. After eight years. “But that wasn’t the way he was, um…” She’d been about to say back in California. Although he hadn’t been a man-slut or anything like that, he’d certainly dated before her. Except for Brooks, of course, the main point of reference was Abby. So, well, “…Before.” That was as far as Lyndsey was willing to go.

  That got a snort from Brooks. “I guess that depends on when you started counting.” For a second it seemed like he wasn’t going to clarify; Lyndsey glared at him so it would be clear that not explaining wasn’t an option.

  He gave her a sheepish grin. “Before he and Abby got together, he was a bit of a player. Most of these guys don’t know anything about that, though. Since Abby died, I don’t think he’s ever even looked at anyone else.” Turning a little red himself, Brooks added, “And, trust me. That wasn’t from a lack of trying on anyone here’s part. I think there’s a pool on who can get him lai—”

  Realizing he’d gone too far, Brooks snapped his mouth shut. Now he was blushing outright. “So, yeah. It’s pretty much a known thing that Ian isn’t interested.”

  A player? Ian? Was that with the vampires? Did Brooks even know those women were vampires? For as curious as she was, she didn’t really want to go there.

  They ate in silence for a few minutes, listening to the raucous conversation around them until Lyndsey decided they’d had enough of an interlude. “Was it weird for people that Ian and Abby were a thing?”

  Brooks was clearly relieved to be moving on to a different subject, even if that happened to be the subject she chose. “It was strange to have a woman on the squad—most of these guys come out of Special Ops; there’s not a lot of integration there. Almost none back then. The thing that threw everyone off the most, though, was that she was a civilian. These days there’s more of that kind of thing with the task force-type units, but when the team started up it was pretty much unheard of. Add that to her being the first woman in the unit, maybe even the first some guys ever worked with in that capacity, and the part about her and Ian being together barely even rated.”

  Recognizing a windfall when she saw it, Lyndsey kept with the questions. “You were the one who pulled her in?”

  Shrugging, Brooks explained, “Officially, I guess. She was working at a clinic in Macedonia when it got attacked; she ended up saving a bunch of kids. Other than her and them, there weren’t many survivors. The team was only there for the worst of it, but then we were ordered out. Some bullshit about not being approved by whatever government was in charge at the time.”

  Brooks shook his heads before going on to fill in the rest of the blanks of the story Lyndsey had heard from Tommy and Tobias. “Ian can be a stubborn S.O.B. when he wants to be. He refused to leave; raised enough of a stink that they let him keep a skeleton crew with him. We did what we could, pulled back when it seemed things had stabilized and help was on its way. Abby held her own, though. Just picked up a blaster and started shooting. Insisted Ian strap it to her when her wrist was broken. Horrible aim—I think she almost killed Ian during the firefight.” He laughed softly because, sure that was exactly the kind of fun fact Lyndsey longed to hear. “She was a good doctor, though. We’d all gotten basic medical training but with the kinds of trauma we were seeing that wasn’t really cutting it. Ian knew we needed someone who really knew what they were doing, and, after it all went down, he told Matt that if she was even halfway decent as a doc we’d be crazy not to get her onto the squad. Said you could teach anyone to shoot, but that in the heat of the battle she’d had more common sense and wits about her than half the guys who’d been trained to be there.”

  Brooks looked at the bottle in front of him and started to tear at the label. “They told me to go out and get her so that’s exactly what I did.”

  “Why not Ian?” Lyndsey asked even though she was pretty sure she knew.

  As Tommy had guessed, Brooks’s answer was: “Ian wasn’t really in any position to go to bat for anyone back then. The brass was down on him, and the other guys didn’t exactly welcome him with open arms.”

  Right. Lyndsey had actually forgotten to feel bad about that part for a whole hour or so. For whatever he may have felt or not felt about her as long-term-relationship material when they’d been together, what he’d done back in Sausalito he’d done for her. That was becoming more and more obvious to Lyndsey as the days went on. That said, he hadn’t exactly been in anyone’s doghouse when she’d seen him with Abby the day he came back. “Everything seemed fine when they came to California…” she prompted.

  “Oh, don’t get me wrong,” Brooks said, “it didn’t take long for him to get back on top, it was just rough going for a few months. I think that’s why he and Abby hit it off so quickly—they were the ones no one else talked to. Other than Ian, Matt and I were the only ones who gave her the time of day.”

  There was a roar of laughter from the end of the table. Lyndsey looked up to see that Ian was now holding court and had just about everyone within hearing distance hanging on every word. Lyndsey smiled at the incongruity—Brooks talking about Ian’s pariah days while one look showed how far behind him those days were.

  Brooks, also aware of the irony, said, “Yeah, well, it probably wouldn’t have taken too long for him to get people on his side again, but I guess you could say he lucked out. If you can call it that,” Brooks added, giving a short, sharp laugh. “He and Abby saved half the team one night when our camp got hit. Nine or ten vamps snuck up on us in the middle of the night. They weren’t just there for blood—they were the sadistic kind. Torture, maiming, all the fun stuff before the kill.” Holding up his arm, he showed Lyndsey a jagged scar that ran from his wrist to his elbow. “Things were just starting to get really unpleasant when Ian and Abby came out of nowhere and took ’em out—all of them.”

  “Where had they been?” She lowered her eyes when Brooks gave her a look. “Oh.” Duh.

  Brooks said, “They were kind of outed after that.”

&
nbsp; “Yeah, I guess so,” Lyndsey answered. “No one minded?”

  He shrugged. “Everyone was mostly glad to be alive. Once that wore off, it just seemed normal.”

  “Even to you?” When Brooks looked up sharply, she said, “Sorry. That was probably too personal.” Except she kind of wasn’t sorry. Not entirely.

  He smiled. “Even to me.” He watched Ian for a few seconds. “They were good together. They made each other happy. Wasn’t always easy, but they managed.” Then he shrugged. “For the most part, at least.”

  Lyndsey followed Brooks’s gaze to the end of the table. Ian had finished whatever story he’d been telling and was now leaning back in the chair, listening to Sprague. He glanced up, the laughter in his eyes dying as he noticed Lyndsey’s intense look.

  Her heart sank. She hated that she still hadn’t had a chance to make this better, something she desperately hoped was still possible. Which was not right now, however, because Malek was tapping his fork against his glass. Lyndsey looked at Brooks. “Another tradition?”

  Brooks shook his head. “Don’t know what this is.”

  ‘This’ ended up being a toast to Brady, whose birthday it was, and a strong encouragement for the entire squad to support Brady in his quest to become the Atikokan Limbo King. Conversation degenerated quickly from there and before Lyndsey knew it, dessert was on the table, and just about everyone was finishing up and getting ready to head to the bar down the street.

  14

  Stealing a glance down the table at Lyndsey and Brooks, Ian sat back. He gestured for the waitress to bring him the bill as he tried to suppress the surge of jealousy he felt at seeing them together. The other guys, too, although they mostly seemed to be getting the lay of the land first so there wasn’t anything to be jealous of yet. But just the fact of Brooks talking to Lyndsey got Ian’s back up. What bothered Ian even more, though, was that he couldn’t remember feeling that way with Brooks and Abby. For as much as he’d hated the idea of them being close, he’d never felt the heat of that anger. If anything, he’d been grateful Abby had someone so devoted to her, so utterly overcome. Because Ian hadn’t been able to be that for her—not in those early days, at least—and she had certainly deserved it.

  Damn it.

  He forced himself to thank the waitress as she put the check down in front of him. Avoiding the subject with Lyndsey hadn’t made the day any easier; if anything, it had been worse. All he’d been able to do—on the helicopter, as he’d signed every damn one of those forms at Park Headquarters, as he’d sat through dinner—was think about what she’d said. And think about how badly he’d failed his wife. Abby had known it, at least—that he hadn’t been in love with her when they got married. It wasn’t a deep, dark secret he’d kept from her. That she’d married him anyway just went to show what kind of a woman she was. She’d had enough faith in him and confidence in herself that the ghost of Lyndsey would fade away, leaving Abby as the only woman in his life.

  She’d been right. Although it had taken longer than he would ever admit, Ian had come to his senses and recognized what he stood to lose if he didn’t wise up. So he’d packed his memories of Lyndsey as tightly away as he could, told himself she hadn’t even loved him in the first place, and put everything he’d had into falling in love with his wife. There’d been some bumps along the way—some almost fatal. But they’d had almost seven years together; seven mostly good years for which he’d be forever thankful. And Ian had spent the last eight years knowing without doubt they’d have spent the rest of their lives happily together.

  Or, at least, he’d had no doubt of that until ten days ago.

  That was the part he couldn’t get past.

  And part of the problem he found himself faced with now. No matter how tempting it was to tell Lyndsey why he’d married Abby and not her, deep down he couldn’t help but feel that to do so—to tell her it was because he hadn’t loved Abby enough—would be a betrayal of the woman who’d given him everything. He couldn’t do it. Even if it meant losing Lyndsey all over again.

  She would have said yes.

  What the fuck?

  Ian signed the check and put the receipt in his wallet.

  “Thanks, brother,” Matt said, clasping him on the shoulders with both hands as he stood. Being one of the few people who knew Ian paid for the ‘last supper’ out of his personal funds, Matt always made it a point to acknowledge that fact.

  Nodding, Ian pushed his chair back and stood up. It was something he’d started with the first op of the reconstituted team, about a year after the helicopter crash that changed everything. One of the things it had changed was Ian’s financial situation. Abby, it turned out, had been a very wealthy woman, more so than he’d been fully aware of when she’d been alive. He’d had enough to feel guilty about when it came to her; the last thing he’d ever wanted was for her to think he cared about her money. Beyond the necessary arrangements for the kids, he’d never wanted to know the details. They’d jointly paid their living expenses thanks to the salaries they earned, which went quite a long way when you lived in a house that had been paid for in cash over a hundred years before and when your kids were born into a family that covered 100% of education expenses, daycare included, out of a trust. Buying dinner for a bunch of hungry guys willing to lay down their lives on his say-so? It was the least Ian could do.

  “You up for the limbo thing?” Matt asked as they walked outside.

  Although Ian couldn’t imagine ever being up for anything involving limbo, he tended to support any and all opportunities for team bonding. But not tonight. “I need to catch up with Lyndsey first.”

  As Ian spoke, Matt’s eyes focused on something over his shoulder. Turning, Ian saw that, sure enough, Lyndsey was coming through the door. Reminding him there was someone else who’d be holding him accountable to the memory of his wife, however, it wasn’t Lyndsey who Ian locked eyes with, but Brooks. And from the look that Ian saw there, it was clear that, yes, Brooks was well aware of all the facets of this situation. Actually, Brooks was probably more aware. After all, Abby had probably confided in someone during those early days, and it certainly hadn’t been Ian. He put his hands in his pockets and his head down before he could see the full extent of Brooks’s disapproval.

  The crowd was big enough and loud enough that it took a few minutes to regroup. But it was still a lot sooner than he was ready for that Ian found himself hanging back, walking slowly next to Lyndsey with everyone else ahead. He’d wanted to make this as quick as possible—just get it over and done with—but he didn’t even know where to start.

  Lyndsey jumped into the vacuum. “So is that what you guys always do? Storm the town and take over one of the only restaurants in the place?”

  About to say something innocuous in response, he shrugged. She was off and running, though, before he could get a word in edgewise. “I mean, not that I mind hanging out with everyone,” she was saying. “You and Matt have a really great team. So not what I’d expected when I got myself into this whole thing…”

  To be honest, Ian was barely registering her words; he just let himself get caught up in the babble. It was one of the things he’d missed most after leaving California; what brought about the most acute, piercing pain. The sudden silence in his life had been so striking; an indication of the emptiness that had so abruptly become the overwhelming factor of his day-to-day.

  Sure, he’d missed just being with her, touching her, watching her move. But that whole babbling thing—it reminded him that behind the strong, fierce façade was a woman who could be vulnerable and unsure, sometimes even out of control. That she did it around him had always been one of the few things to set him apart from the others; made him think that at least a little part of her had loved him at least a little bit. Every once in a while he’d mattered that much.

  Abby hadn’t been anything like that. For one thing, she’d always been in complete control. He’d never been under any illusions that Abby had needed him—it had been cl
ear from the start she hadn’t. For some reason, though, she’d decided pretty early on that she wanted him, despite his obvious baggage. And though there were very few things about her to betray her Boston heiress roots, one of them was if she wanted something, she expected to get it. She hadn’t let a little thing like his resistance get in her way. It was one of the things he’d been attracted to in the first place. That and the fact that she was nothing like Lyndsey.

  Physically, Abby’s tall and athletic frame had nearly matched Ian’s own, whereas Lyndsey was tiny in comparison. Abby had reddish-brown hair and dark brown eyes, as opposed to blonde-haired, green-eyed Lyndsey. And Abby had such assurance and confidence that it was almost to the point of being arrogant—she couldn’t imagine anyone would ever question or doubt her. It just wasn’t a consideration. Lyndsey, on the other hand, had always had the ghost of a smile at her mouth and a twinkle in her eye, both sending the clear message that she didn’t care at all if you questioned or doubted her—she simply didn’t care what you thought at all. It wasn’t disdain, because that implied she devoted at least a little bit of energy to thinking about it. The reality was that she operated independently. Period. If you happened to keep pace with her for a little while, then good for you; eventually, however, you’d fall away, too, and there she’d be, out ahead of the pack, completely on her own.

  Yep. That pretty much summed her up. Except for the babble.

  “Could you stop?” Ian said, cutting her off mid-sentence.

  He didn’t mean to be rude about it. Truly. He just knew he couldn’t do this if she kept going on like that. Not now that he knew how badly he’d hurt her; that he was about to hurt her again.

  Mouth still open, she turned to him. Then she snapped it shut.

  “I…” she said. “What?”

  “Sorry,” he said, glancing over at her. “I don’t…” Damn it. He shouldn’t have looked at her. He turned away as he realized his hand was halfway to her hair. “It’s hard to concentrate,” he mumbled, his hand dropping to his side.