by Maya Banks
“Deep breaths, P.J. In and out. Real slow. Come on. Breathe with me.”
He pulled her away so she was forced to look at him, and he stared intently, mimicking the inhaling and exhaling he wanted her to do.
“Tell me if you’re going to be sick. I’ll take you into the bathroom.”
She shook her head blindly, determined not to let herself lose more control than she already had.
Gradually her pulse slowed and her breathing steadied. The shaking stopped and the panic eased. The images faded into the shadows and the smell of blood left her.
But the tears kept coming, slipping over her cheeks as she stared numbly at Cole.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. Because what else was there for her to say? What guy wanted to have sex interrupted by a major meltdown and then have to ask the woman if she needed to be sick?
And God, she’d been the one who’d pushed! He’d wanted to wait. He hadn’t thought she was ready. He’d wanted to take things slow. She’d been so sure. But it was just more of her refusal to accept what had been done to her. If she didn’t think about it, then it didn’t exist. Only now, the past had come back to bite her on the ass in a major way.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry for ruining everything.”
He looked furious, and he shook his head emphatically. “You aren’t apologizing for this. It’s me who should be apologizing. I knew you weren’t ready for this and I should have put a stop to it. I’m a complete asshole for even contemplating making love to you so soon after what happened.”
She shook her head just as emphatically. “No. I thought I was ready. I mean, I was. I don’t know what happened. I wanted it, Cole. I wasn’t scared. I was right there with you and then bam, out of nowhere, panic. Oh my God, the panic was paralyzing and all I could see was them and I even smelled my blood. I felt it. Sticky and wet on my skin. How it felt when he smeared it over me with his own body.”
She shuddered and physically recoiled from the images she described.
Cole’s eyes were murderous and his jaw was so tight it bulged.
Her first instinct was to flee, and she fought it with everything she had. She made herself sit there and face Cole. She had to do this. She had to face it. It wasn’t going away no matter how hard she wished it.
“Don’t let me run from this,” she blurted. “It’s what I do. I run when things get tough. I ran from my old team and the situation there. I ran from the reality of what happened to me in Vienna. I ran from you and my team because I couldn’t deal with what happened. Don’t let me run from this,” she begged.
He stroked her hair with his hand and gently kissed the top of her head. “If you run, I’ll just go after you and haul you right back to me.”
She let out another quiet sob, nearly choking on it in an effort to prevent it escaping.
“Why do you even want to be involved with me?” she asked. “I’m a complete mess. I don’t have my head on straight. I’m a master at fucking up everything that’s good in my life.”
“But you’re my mess,” Cole said quietly. “I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you to be you because that’s who I care about.”
She reached for him, hugging him tightly to her. He hugged her just as tightly, his arms like steel around her body.
“It’s going to be okay, P.J.,” he whispered next to her ear. “I’m not going anywhere and we’ll get through this. Together.”
She closed her eyes, savoring the promise. It was the only tangible thing to hold on to when so much else was steeped in murkiness. She couldn’t trust herself. Couldn’t trust her state of mind. But she could trust Cole. He wouldn’t let her go.
CHAPTER 30
COLE paced the kitchen floor, wondering for the hundredth time if he’d made a huge mistake. He wasn’t sure how P.J. would take it. It had been presumptuous of him to barge ahead and follow through with his idea, and now he was having serious doubts. The last thing he wanted was to piss P.J. off and have her cut and run like she said she often did.
He blew out a huge breath and ran a hand through his short-cut hair. Damn it but he’d blown it big last night. He damn well knew that he shouldn’t be making a move that soon after her rape.
And the very fact that she seemed to be handling it so well should have been a big-ass warning sign. She’d been in denial ever since the night those bastards had hurt her. She’d shoved everything back, refusing to face it because that’s what she had to do in order to cope. She’d focused all her energy on revenge.
He felt like a total bastard. She’d fallen completely apart. He’d ended up holding her until she’d drifted off to sleep, and he’d made damn sure he got up before her so she wouldn’t feel any awkwardness when she woke up.
It pissed him off that she’d actually thought she had to apologize to him. Apologize, for Christ’s sake. He was so disgusted with himself.
To take his mind off the phone call he’d placed just moments earlier, he busied himself making breakfast. He was going to bring her breakfast in bed and make damn sure that there was no awkwardness between them or that, God forbid, she’d try to apologize again.
He plated the pancakes, took the pan of bacon off the burner and then put the pieces on a saucer. After grabbing the bottle of syrup from the pantry, he arranged everything on a breakfast tray and started for the bedroom.
She was still fast asleep when he entered the room. The satisfaction of seeing her asleep in his bed, her head on his pillow, was overwhelming.
She looked like she belonged there. Belonged to him.
There were deep shadows under her eyes as if she hadn’t rested well the night before. They made her look much more fragile than he knew her to be. Or maybe he’d made a mistake by assuming she was a lot stronger than she was.
He lowered himself to the edge of the bed, tray across his lap, and he quietly called her name. “P.J. Wake up, baby. I have breakfast for you.”
She stirred and mumbled something in her sleep.
“P.J., wake up,” he said again.
Her eyelids fluttered, revealing cloudy green eyes. She looked confused, as if she were trying to gather her thoughts. He knew the moment she remembered everything that had happened. Her lips turned down into a frown and shame darkened her eyes.
“Hey, I brought you breakfast,” he said, determined not to allow her to feel even a moment’s awkwardness.
She carefully pushed herself upward, grimacing when she flexed her leg. She grabbed one of the pillows and put it behind her back so she was propped up, and then he placed the tray over her lap, pulling out the legs so it was steady.
“It smells wonderful,” she said with a wan smile.
“Dig in. I already ate, but I’m happy to keep you company while you enjoy.”
She glanced nervously at him then retreated, focusing on the food in front of her.
He cursed under his breath and wondered again if he’d made a huge mistake. He may as well lay it all out, and if she got mad, deal with it then. He could always call Sam back and cancel the whole thing.
“I made a phone call this morning,” he began. “This may not be something you want to do, and I’ll understand if it pisses you off. I just thought that it might help.”
She cocked her head and stared back at him, her brow furrowed in puzzlement. “Why would I be pissed?”
He grimaced. “I arranged for you to hook up with the Kelly women today. I told Sam I’d drive you over after breakfast so you could spend some time with Rachel, Sophie, Sarah and Shea.”
She blinked in surprise. “Oookay.”
He could tell she was confused and he rushed to provide an explanation. Hell, it had sounded good at the time. Now it just seemed silly.
He rubbed his hand over his nape in agitation. “Look, I just thought . . . I thought that since they’d gone through some of the stuff you’re going through, they could help. I don’t know, maybe you could talk to them about it. I thought it might help to know you
aren’t alone. They’ve endured some pretty heavy shit. Especially Sarah. She was raped too.”
For a long moment P.J. just stared at him. He swallowed nervously, anxiety nipping at his gut. The last thing he wanted was to fuck things up between him and P.J. And this may very well be the thing to do it.
P.J. was intensely private, if nothing else. She wasn’t the kind to spread her business far and wide. He was only now learning shit about her that he never knew, and he’d worked with her for four years.
But then her expression softened and her eyes glowed with a warm light.
“Thank you,” she said. “It was very sweet of you to think of doing that for me.”
Relief was crushing. He damn near wilted on the spot.
“So you aren’t mad?”
Her brow furrowed even deeper. “Mad because you care about me? Enough that you’d drive me all the way out to the KGI compound because you think meeting up with the Kelly wives would help me? You’re a very special man, David Coletrane. I don’t know why the hell you bother with me, but I’m so very glad you do.”
It was all he could do not to haul her into his arms and never let her go.
“Okay then,” he said gruffly. “If you want, finish up and get dressed and we’ll set out as soon as possible so it’s not too late when we get back.”
She smiled and forked another bite of pancake into her mouth. “You know, I could get used to this kind of five-star service.”
He relaxed, warmth spreading through his chest. If this was what it felt like to be in love, he figured he didn’t mind it so much after all.
CHAPTER 31
THE ride to the Kelly compound was tense and silent. Cole attempted to make small talk several times, but P.J.’s mind was preoccupied with the upcoming meeting with all the Kelly women.
The truth was, they made her uncomfortable. She had no idea what to say around them. Had nothing in common with them. She had no idea what to say about babies and girly stuff, and the very last thing she wanted was some come-to-Jesus moment where they got touchy-feely and bared their souls.
The mere idea had her in hives.
But Cole had arranged it because he truly cared about her, and she knew he had her best interests at heart. So how could she possibly refuse without being an ungrateful bitch?
She couldn’t.
Cole had been so nervous and so worried that he’d stepped over the line that she would have done anything at all to reassure him.
So what if she’d rather face an entire squad of crazy-ass terrorists than four other women?
After what she’d put him through last night, she owed him a lot, and if it made him feel better, she’d endure damn near anything.
When they pulled into the compound, P.J.’s eyes widened at the progress that had been made. It looked very much near to completion. There was a helipad, training facilities and a firing range. The only thing that looked as though it wasn’t finished was the single airstrip where the Kelly jets could land and be hangared.
A lot had happened in six months. She suddenly felt out of the loop. A stranger among people she’d worked with for four years.
Her eyes widened when she saw a group at the firing range. She recognized Nathan, Joe and Swanny but not the other two with them. And one of them was a woman. Her blond hair was gathered into a ponytail and she wore a baseball cap, but it was obvious she was female.
She was much smaller in stature than the man she stood beside. He dwarfed her, but then he was bigger than Nathan, Joe and Swanny. Even from a distance she could tell he was a big, muscled man.
“New recruits?” she asked lightly.
“She’s not replacing you, P.J.”
P.J. blinked. Okay, so maybe the thought had crossed her mind. Not that she was being replaced, exactly, but that maybe before they’d found P.J. again they’d brought this woman on board to fill the vacant spot on Steele’s team.
“She’s on Nathan and Joe’s team. Donovan has wanted to add a third team for a while. Nathan and Joe are taking it. Swanny’s on it and they recruited Skylar and Zane.”
“Oh,” P.J. said, trying to ignore the surge of relief that flooded her.
He continued driving past the range and to the houses that were nestled at the back of the massive expanse of land that KGI owned.
“Ethan and Rachel’s house is done,” P.J. said.
“Yep. Everyone’s is finished. Well, except for Van and Joe’s. Van’s the holdout. He’s still living in the log cabin on the lake and Joe’s been bunking with him. But everyone who is married is living inside the compound.”
“Even Marlene and Frank?”
Cole smiled. “They don’t want to move from their house. They say there are way too many memories wrapped up in the house they raised their family in. Sam’s pissed about it, and last I heard, he and Garrett were trying to have an exact replica of their house built here.”
P.J. nodded. “After what happened to Marlene, I can imagine her sons’ worry. She needs to be safe. KGI is only going to gain more enemies as time goes by. They certainly aren’t going to be making any friends.”
“That’s true. It’s why Steele and I didn’t want you to stay alone in Denver. You’d be a much easier target. I’m sure Brumley isn’t just sitting around twiddling his thumbs and waiting for you to flush him out of whatever dark hole he’s crawled into.”
P.J.’s face darkened into a scowl. “I wish the son of a bitch would find me. Would save me the trouble of going after his ass.”
Cole reached for her hand and squeezed. “We’ll get him, P.J.”
As they rolled to a stop in front of one of the houses, P.J. suffered another bout of nervousness. Which was pretty stupid considering she’d faced gun-wielding maniacs and dodged grenades and countless other explosives plus an entire army of crazy-ass terrorists with machine guns all shooting at her.
She didn’t wait for Cole to come around to help her. It suddenly seemed important that she could make it on her own and that she wouldn’t show any weakness.
It nearly killed her to put her injured leg down and put weight on it, but she gritted her teeth and used the door for leverage as she got out.
Before she and Cole made it to the front of the vehicle, Sam met them at the steps to his house.
He gave P.J. a long, assessing look. “How are you?” he asked quietly.
She swallowed. Okay, this was definitely awkward. She really didn’t want to get into any particulars with Sam. She cleared her throat of the knot forming. “I’m fine. Cole’s taking good care of me.”
“Sophie and the others are around back on the patio playing with Charlotte. Can you make it or do you need help?”
“I’m fine,” P.J. muttered again.
Her damnable pride was rearing its ugly head again, but she was not going to ask her boss for help. He was likely pissed off enough at her as it was. She’d probably caused him enough grief for an entire year.
She limped toward the gate that would take her around to the back of the house. It made her a total chickenshit that she wanted Cole with her, and she knew he’d come if only she asked. But this was supposed to be for her. Cole had gone to a lot of trouble, and she didn’t want to let him down. She didn’t want to let herself down.
She hesitated when she heard a child’s shriek of laughter and the accompanying laughter from the adults. She stood at the corner, watching the blond-haired little imp run after a golden retriever puppy while the women sat on the steps of the deck watching with big smiles on their faces.
They didn’t look like women who’d undergone the same kind of shit P.J. had been through, even though she knew differently. P.J. had been a part of each mission that had brought these women back home where they belonged. And they’d all endured their own version of hell. They were survivors. They were fierce. And shit, it killed her to admit it, but they intimidated her because she didn’t feel like she measured up. Especially after her freak-out last night.
She continued to wat
ch from a distance, her gut tightening more with each passing moment. Of the four women, P.J. knew the least about Sarah. She was quieter and more withdrawn than the others. It always made P.J. grin that Garrett stayed in trouble with her over his potty mouth and was forever slipping up when she wasn’t around.
Cole had told her that she’d been raped before she and Garrett had met and that Sarah’s brother had killed the man responsible. P.J. had silently cheered him on, even back then before her own attack had happened.
A man couldn’t be all bad if he was willing to take out the monster responsible for hurting his sister.
P.J. most identified with Sophie, Sam’s wife. She was a fighter. Even five months pregnant and running for her life, she’d kicked some pretty serious ass. Hell, she’d even shot her own father. That took some balls.
But Rachel was also a resilient, kick-ass survivor in her own quiet way. Of all of them, she’d endured the most for the longest. A year in hell. One P.J. couldn’t even begin to imagine or fathom. What Rachel had suffered made what P.J. had experienced seem insignificant in comparison. P.J. had worried that Rachel may not ever fully recover. P.J. had been there when Ethan had carried her out of the jungle. She’d seen Rachel at her lowest point. But she’d come a long way from that frightened, powerless victim she’d been, and she’d made great strides thanks to the support network around her.
P.J. was envious of that if she was honest with herself. Every single Kelly would lay down his life for her or any of the other Kelly women. No hesitation. No regrets.
She was so absorbed in her analysis of the women that she failed to notice Sophie walking her way until the other woman was directly in front of her.
“Hi, P.J.,” Sophie said with a smile. “Cole said you were coming over. I’m very happy you did.”
P.J.’s palms were damp but she resisted the urge to wipe them down her pants. She managed a convincing smile back.
“Er, thanks for having me. I mean, it was nice of you guys to put your day on hold.”
Sophie waved her hand. “Come on over. The only part of the day we put on hold was the opening of the wine. Now that you’re here, we’re going to remedy that.” She finished with a genuine, warm smile that made P.J. relax and lose some of the awful tension in her gut.