“So what does this even mean?” Marcus asked, his anger over her insensitivity to Kennedy temporarily forgotten. “How the hell…?”
Naomi shrugged. “I wish I knew. If I could talk to her, ask her why... I’ve been empty for so long, missing my mother. If I could just see her, touch her, then maybe… Marcus, I can’t deal with this,” she whimpered, dissolving into sudden, heavy tears. Marcus caught her as her knees gave in. He held her against his chest as sobs wracked her body, then blew his frustration out in a quiet sigh. In that moment, he hated Wolfe and Noelle both. If this woman had been alive all this time, why hadn’t she reached out? What was her excuse?
Shaking his head, Marcus realized that it didn’t matter. There was no excuse good enough to make him forgive the pain Naomi was feeling now. She didn’t need this shit. The hurt, the stress, the worry… it wasn’t good for her, and it wasn’t good for their baby.
He reached down, sweeping Naomi into his arms to carry her back inside and deposit her on the bed. He crawled under the covers with her, letting her cry against his chest until finally, she fell asleep.
Long after that, he still lay awake, his mind running with possibilities and questions. He didn’t believe for a second that one of those bodies belonged to Wolfe, or Noelle, for that matter. Damien Wolfe was too slick, too calculated, too… powerful for something like this to be the end. But… then again, according to the girls, Terry King had walked into his house, and shot up his dining room like it was nothing.
So… Marcus wasn’t sure what to think anymore. There were a billion possibilities, and a billion questions.
Questions he hoped Harrison could answer.
Two.
It was quiet.
Somehow, that was less comforting than the bedlam from before. Harrison had registered the distant chaos through closed eyes and searing pain, just before darkness took over.
Quiet meant time for contemplation, which led to realizations, which led to conversations, and the fewer of those that happened in hushed tones, among people who would have few – if any – qualms about putting a bullet through his head, the better.
He kept his eyes closed although he was awake, knowing there was little chance he was alone in the room. The agony in his leg made moisture build behind his closed lids, but the only outward sign of his discomfort was the thin sheen of sweat building on his forehead.
A sudden surge of pain made him clench his fists, squeezing tight as if that would somehow ease the scorching heat that centered on his leg in an excruciating tingle that seemed to touch him everywhere.
“You’re not fooling anybody.”
Though he’d suspected he wasn’t alone, the sound of a voice in the room made him flinch, and open his eyes. He’d expected one of the men, Marcus, Quentin, Kendall, hell, maybe even Agent Barnes – not the raven-haired beauty who stood over him now. A scowling, pissed-off angel was how she looked to him, with the tapered edges of her chin-length bob swaying around her face.
Her gorgeous, familiar face.
High, sculpted cheekbones, hypnotic, slanted dark hazel eyes, and full lips, twisted into a scowl. The haircut was new. The last time he’d seen her in person– longer ago than he cared to remember – it had flowed around her shoulders in big, thick, curls when she didn’t have it confined to a neat ponytail.
Harrison liked her new style.
It was sexy, and against her deep brown skin, she looked sophisticated, even in a faded military academy tee shirt tucked neatly into belted, relaxed fit black khakis. He was sure that if he could see her feet, they would be clad in boots. Old habits died hard with her.
“I really wish you hadn’t come here.”
He noticed the strain in her voice this time. He understood without her saying it that she was rightfully concerned for her safety, with the soon-to-be newly revealed connection to him. It registered to him that he should feel guilty. Maybe lower his head in shame, offer some words of contrition.
Instead, he smiled at her. “Nice to see you again too, Savannah.”
She exhaled through her nose, a frustrated, derisive puff of air as she crossed her arms and began to pace in front of where he lay in bed. For a long moment, the steady chime of the machines monitoring his vital signs were the only sound in the room, and then Savi rounded on him. “If they decide to kill you, I won’t stop them.”
Her words were harsh, but the tiny crack of emotion in her voice betrayed her. Their eyes met, and even in the dim light, he could see the gloss of tears.
“Yes you would.” He knew it was a truth only one of them appreciated at the moment, and Savi shook her head as she turned away, facing the door.
“I’m not part of this. Didn’t want to be part of this. I’ve played deaf, blind, and dumb to the details of this little operation, because it’s not my business. Inez calls me, I stitch people up, and I take my ass home, because I’m supposed to just be the neighbor. But you,” she snapped, turning to face him again. Her face was wet now, and this time, a pang of guilt clenched his chest. “Your presence here, me being alone with you in this room right now… It makes it my business.”
“I’ll vouch for you,” Harrison offered. He tried to sit up a little more, but pain drove him back to his reclined position on the bed. “I’ll tell them you’ve had nothing to do with any of this.”
Savi tossed her head back and laughed – a sound Harrison had always loved – but the cynicism in it now made him cringe. “You called me. I don’t even know how you had my new number, but you called me. I let you in the gate. When Inez called me, to say you were bleeding in her garage? You had my head so fucked up that I told her: I know, I’m on my way. She just hasn’t said anything yet.” She took a deep breath, then shook her head. “I don’t know what’s going on, but one thing is clear: You’re on one side, and Inez and her team are on the other. There are a lot of them, and there is one of you. If I tell them that I know you, that I lo—” she cut herself off, pushing out another heavy sigh before she continued. “You and I have a past. To them, that puts me on your side, and I don’t know if that’s where I want to be.”
“You used to believe in me, Savi. You used to trust me, implicitly.”
“Don’t you dare.” She jabbed a harsh finger in his direction as she approached the bed, stopping just short of touching him. “You did this. You pushed me away. You shut me out. You don’t get to show up like a wounded hero, expecting me to jump to the front of the line to be on your team. I haven’t forgotten what you did to me.”
“I did what I had—”
“You didn’t have to. You chose to.” Savi angrily swiped a fresh wave of tears from her cheeks, then dried her hands on her pants. “Just tell the truth, Harrison. You left because you wanted to.”
Harrison closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he wished he hadn’t. Seeing Savi like this, with raw hurt and anger laid bare on her face, even after all these years… He didn’t like the heaviness that suddenly rested on his chest. He swallowed hard. “If that’s what you need to believe, be my guest.”
She gave another harsh snort of laughter, then stepped away. “Whatever. This is stupid anyway. Right now, there are six or seven people waiting for you, with a lot of questions. The only reason you’re getting any peace right now is because of me. I suggest you sleep while you can.”
“And if I can’t?”
“Why not?”
Harrison chuckled. “Well, there is the little matter of my leg getting shot up. It doesn’t exactly feel good, Savi.”
At that, her eyebrows lifted, and concern replaced anger in her expression. “It’s probably time for a dose of painkillers. Those will let you sleep as well, or I can just give you a shot, to numb the pain.”
“Pills, please.”
Savi nodded, then turned to where Harrison assumed she’d been sitting, waiting for him to wake up. He watched as she unzipped a bag on the table, removing a small bottle of pills. She took out two, and deposited them in his hand before she po
ured him a cup of water.
He downed the pills quickly, crunching them on the way so they would enter his blood stream faster, then used the water to clear the bitter taste from his mouth. When he was done, he handed the cup to Savi, who tossed it back onto the table without looking at it.
She was too busy looking at him, and Harrison took a deep breath, because he knew she was about to ask him something he couldn’t answer. Still… when she stepped a bit closer to the edge of the bed, and eased her hand into his, he accepted her palm and squeezed tight.
“Harrison,” she whispered, in an urgent, desperate tone that made his heart clench. “Just tell me. What are you involved wi—”
“You know I can’t—”
“Bullshit.” Her voice was laced with disgust as she shoved his hand away, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t want to hear about going against protocol, or classified information. Look around you! Whatever cover you have, it’s blown. Everybody here has alphabet soup behind their name, Harrison, remember that. FBI, CIA, and not to mention the hackers… they will know everything about you in less than a day, if they haven’t figured it all out already.”
“Stop talking! If this room is bugged—”
“You’re not listening! Whatever your mission was… it’s done. You’re in hostile territory here, no escape. It’s over.”
Harrison lifted a hand to swipe his face. “It’s not. But I can’t tell you anything else.”
She sucked her teeth, and started to move away, but pain be damned, Harrison sat up, snatching her by the hand and dragging her close again. “Savannah, listen to me. I am trying to protect you here. You’ve never seemed to understand that, but it’s always been about protecting you. The less you know, the better.”
“And you never seem to understand that I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
Tugging her closer still, Harrison lifted her hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her fingers. “I know that, Secret Agent Badass Briggs.” She shook her head, but the downturned corners of her mouth twitched like she wanted to smile. “But that doesn’t have anything to do with me not wanting you involved in my shit.” The end of his sentence came out in a slur, and for a second he panicked as his head filled with clouds. But then, the dimming pain from his leg reminded him of the painkiller beginning to course through his system.
His grip on Savi’s hand loosened, and she slipped it away, giving him a gentle nudge back onto his pillows. She arranged and fluffed – fussing over him, which he hated, but after so many years of not seeing that gorgeous face, it was certainly something he would willingly endure. “If something happened to you because of me,” he mumbled, unsure if his words were coherent or not, “I wouldn’t… I woul—”
“Shhh.” Savi pressed a finger to his lips, then gifted him with a tiny smile, which he returned. He was so glad to see her. One good thing out of all of this.
No.
Two good things.
At least the kids were safe.
Inwardly, he smiled.
Yes, the girls, Kennedy and Taylor, were both in the care of people who could, and would protect them from the reach of Terry King.
“Sleep,” Savi repeated, her breath sweet, and her voice soft as she leaned over him, meeting his eyes. “Please, get some rest. Sleep.”
So… he did.
&
Deep, chest rending sobs pulled Renata from the fitful sleep she’d finally found, hours after the commotion downstairs. She was so emotionally scattered that she raised her hands to her own face first, to make sure the mournful sound wasn’t coming from her.
Next, she reached for Taylor, who’d fallen asleep amidst pained, traumatized sniffles in Renata’s arms. She was quiet now, and sleeping still, but the slivers of moonlight across her face from the parted blinds showed that slumber hadn’t necessarily given way to peace. Her normally unworried, innocent face was lined with tension, and her lips were moving like she was mumbling something under her breath.
Ignoring the ache that settled over her heart as she remembered her daughter’s account of what she and her sister had seen, Renata placed a soothing hand on Taylor’s chest. With the other hand, she rubbed slow circles on her daughter’s back, in a steadily calming rhythm, until the pained expression left her face. Her breath evened, into the deep inhale-exhale pattern of tranquil sleep.
And still, the sobbing went on.
Carefully, Renata pulled herself out of bed without waking Taylor. She opened the door just enough to slip out, then immediately closed it behind her. Across from her, the door to the formerly unoccupied bedroom that now housed Wolfe’s other teenaged daughter, Kennedy, was open.
She crept up to the open doorway and peeked inside. Her eyes went wide at the sight of Quentin – his expression utterly baffled – with a sobbing Kennedy in his arms, rocking her back and forth in an attempt to soothe her cries. He looked around, almost frantic, like he was desperately waiting on rescue, and when he saw Renata in the door, the relief on his face was comical. “Help me,” he mouthed, raising his eyebrows to highlight the urgency.
Fighting a smile, Renata stepped in, carefully maneuvering herself into the space between the two. Sixteen-year-old Kennedy didn’t seem to notice she’d been traded, she just connected herself to Renata and kept on crying.
Just as she’d done with Taylor, Renata put a hand to the girl’s chest, over her racing heart, and rubbed her back. Slow, soothing circles, until the sobs settled into cries, which settled into quiet whimpers, which settled into sleep on Ren’s shoulder.
Gently, Renata lowered Kennedy back to her bed and tucked her under the covers, waiting a few moments to make sure the current state of peace would remain. When it seemed as though it would, she carefully crept out of the room and closed the door behind her to find Quentin waiting outside.
He was sitting on the hallway floor outside her room, with his eyes closed and his head pressed against the wall. His normally well-groomed facial hair was scruffy and untamed, and shadowed circles under his eyes spoke to a lack of sleep. But really, Renata wasn’t sure if he’d ever been sexier to her.
His fierce, protective anger from earlier was still clearly embedded in her mind. She’d watched him, silently, as he dressed in black camo she’d never seen on him, and strapped weapons on himself with confident dexterity, reminding her that he was far from “just” a tech geek. There was no hesitation, no doubting himself, no going to Marcus or Kendall with questions about what went where… he just knew.
When he was done, he’d pulled her into him and kissed her like he was going off to war. And hell… he was, fooling around with a man like Wolfe, who could afford a small army at his disposal. What he was doing wasn’t a practice run. It was serious, real, danger, and… he was willing to expose himself to it for her.
God, she loved this man.
Her bare footsteps on the carpeted floor didn’t make him flinch or open his eyes. She almost hesitated to touch him, in case he was finally catching a few moments of sleep, which over the last twenty-four hours, had been increasingly hard to come by. She was careful as she eased down beside him, gently resting her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes. A moment later, she smiled as he pulled her closer and wrapped her in his arms.
“Thank you for coming to rescue me, cher,” he muttered against her ear, just before he placed a kiss on the side of her neck. “Emotional teenaged girls are far outside of my skillset.”
Unable to help it, Renata giggled, then turned her face up to meet his gaze. In the midst of the heaviness of the last several months, and especially the last few days, the glint of humor in his eyes was such a welcome distraction it brought a lump to her throat. Before any tears could fall, she nuzzled her face against him, smothering herself in the soft cotton of his tee shirt. Ignoring the lingering pain that still nagged her shoulder, she wrapped her arms around his waist and held tight, even as he shifted their position to pull her into his lap.
He placed a hand to he
r face, cupping it gently before his fingers slid under her chin. She tipped her head back, welcoming his lips to touch hers in a deep, unhurried kiss that was just enough to make her want to climb into his bed.
But she needed to get back to Taylor.
Quentin must have recognized that too, because despite the bulge growing insistently harder against her leg, he pulled away from the kiss, then pressed his lips to the top of her head. “How are you doing?”
She opened her mouth to say she was fine, then stopped herself. Fine wasn’t really an accurate description of the emotional turmoil she felt. She was thrilled to have Taylor safely back in her presence. Overjoyed that none of her friends had to put themselves in danger to make it happen. But she was also terrified.
There were too many unanswered questions to feel at ease. Where was Damien Wolfe now? Had he really died in that explosion? And for that matter, where was Terry King, who’d somehow slipped away from the surveillance on his house, and was in the wind now. Did he know where they were too? Instead of speaking, she burrowed her face against Quentin’s neck, and he took that as her answer.
He squeezed her tighter, rubbing his fingers in an absent trail on her back. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, chérie,” he whispered into her braids, making her scalp tingle with warmth. “You or Taylor. Waited too long. Been too patient.” He shifted positions yet again, this time to cup her face with both hands, so she could look at him as he spoke.
The trace of humor was gone from his eyes, replaced with cold determination, and underneath that, something much warmer.
“Wolfe took someone I loved once, when I was kid. He won’t survive trying that shit with me again. You understand?”
Renata nodded, then closed her eyes to the soft brush of his lips on hers. She moaned a little as his tongue slid into her mouth with authority, like he was putting more emphasis on his words. Most times, logic would have ruled over the emotional, reminding her that “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you” was an impossible promise. But the way Quentin kissed her, with all of him, with everything, like he wanted to leave no doubt that he absolutely had the power to assure such a thing… she decided to believe him.
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