by S. M. Butler
He rubbed his face as he balanced his elbows on his knees and sighed. Soon, he and Jordan would take her across the ocean to see her birth father. Jordan would evaluate the place and they’d form a plan to end Giroux. But it was infinitely more complicated now. She was a Giroux, the daughter of the man that put two bullets in his chest. He rubbed his bare chest, feeling the puckered scars against his palm. How would she react when her birth father died right in front of her? Would she hate him forever? Would it destroy her?
He smelled her sweetness over every inch of his body, craved to go back in there and take her to bed. It had taken every ounce of control he’d had to simply lay next to her for the night. He’d barely slept. Every inch of him was attuned to her.
“Chris?”
His eyes shot up as Abigail emerged from his bedroom, dressed in one of his t-shirts and her panties. He’d have to get her some clean clothes soon. She couldn’t travel like that.
Her fiery hair bounced with the wild curls he remembered when they’d first met, the ends dripping water as she stepped carefully toward him. Her wide eyes were as bright as usual but held an uncertain quality. He groaned and buried his face in his hands again. So much trouble as soon as Nathan found out. He probably already knew. “I shouldn’t have brought you up here.”
She shrugged as she stood in front of him. “This is where you are. I go where you go.”
Such simplicity. Did she even comprehend what a bad idea being with him was? She wrapped her soft fingers around his much larger ones, pulling them away. She had knelt in front of him, balancing herself on her knees. Even with the rug, it probably wasn’t the most comfortable. She didn’t seem to care.
“Chris, please talk to me.”
“And say what?”
“I know you’re regretting last night. I know you held back.” She shook her head. “I’m not regretting it. Not one bit.”
He glanced at their joined hands, her small ones barely covering his. He turned them over so they rested in his palms and gently closed his fingers. “I have a history with Jean Giroux.”
“You told me.”
“It’s more than just him being the one that shot me.”
“Tell me.” She didn’t even miss a beat. Her face focused completely on him. He had opened up his chest and she told him without a word that it was okay to do it.
He took a breath to calm himself. He’d never talked about his near death before. He’d filed it under “shit happened” and had moved forward with his life. But now, he was realizing that maybe he hadn’t moved forward as much as he had thought.
There was no way that Abigail could have known about what happened on the train two years ago. They hadn’t kept in contact, and that mission was completely off book. Shit, he and Murphy had risked military prison to save his sister.
He released her hands and sat up straight. She watched him from her position on her knees, and he tried not to think about what else he wanted to do while she was on her knees, her hands folded neatly in her lap.
He pressed his hand against his scars, his fingers running through the puckered skin. “These are a reminder to myself that I failed to protect someone close to me. My sister. I couldn’t protect her, and I bled out on the floor of a train while he took the two people most important in my life. I couldn’t do anything to stop it. When I woke up, I wasn’t the same man. I was… already dead. Giroux didn’t just shoot me, he destroyed me.”
“Chris—”
He shook his head. “Hang on. I need to say this. Because you need to understand what kind of man Giroux is. He’s dangerous and monstrous, and he’s only grown worse over the years.”
“You make it sound like I want to go,” she whispered. “I have no good options, Chris.”
“Don’t go,” he pleaded. “I failed my sister when it counted. I couldn’t protect her.”
Her eyes were wet, water collecting in the corners as she listened to him. “She survived.”
“Not because of me. I failed her, and someone else had to protect her.” He groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry.”
She cupped his face, making him look into her eyes. A tear escaped the corner of her eye as sorrow filled his gaze. She narrowed her eyes, letting the anger inside her gurgle up through her throat. “Don’t feel sorry for me.”
“It’s easier to feel sorrow than other things,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“I think I’ve done a pretty good job of surviving so far. Maybe I just need you.”
He twirled a wet strand of hair around his finger, and a smile played at his lips. He remembered the unruly curls and here they were. It was like no time had passed. He cupped her face and pressed his lips against hers, closing his eyes as he let the warmth of her touch flow through him. Too soon, it ended. “I worry for you. This life, where there are crooked senators and dangerous arms dealers and bombs going off… it’s not for you. You don’t belong in that world.”
A laugh bubbled out of her, dry and rueful, and her eyes watered with a fresh round of tears. “Don’t I? I am the daughter of a monster. I’m the adopted daughter of a kidnapper and a murderer. Maybe this is exactly the world of which I belong.”
He shook his head. “You can’t believe that. I know you better than that.”
“Do you?” She asked, her eyes narrowing. “You pulled me out of a cage in a man’s bedroom after you put two bullets in his chest. After the hospital in Germany, you were gone.”
Guilt marred his chest, pulsing out from the bullet holes. He’d left for another mission. He’d had orders. But you never forgot your first mission, and his had been a doozy. “I couldn’t stick around. You know that.”
“Yeah. On to the next mission. I know,” she said, breaking free of his hold on her and standing up. “Never mind the seventeen-year-old that desperately needed her savior.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I told you not to feel sorry for me,” she said, her bright eyes fiery. “I understand why. Because you need to protect people, and someone else needed you then.”
Before he could stop it, his lips fell apart. How could she know that?
“I’m telling you this because you need to know, you didn’t fail anyone because you almost died. Someone else failed you because they didn’t protect you.” She smiled and pressed her lips against his. As they separated, she lingered against his lips, and he closed his eyes, reveling in the warmth her closeness brought. Her voice was barely audible when she whispered, “That’s my job now.”
Chapter Seventeen
Abigail felt flayed open like a frog on a dissection table as Chris took in her words. His hands fisted into balls with white knuckles. She slid her hands up to his chest, her fingers barely brushing against his scars. His throat worked up and down, hard, like it took all of his control to not slap her hands away. Maybe it did, but it spoke volumes that he let her do it.
“My scars are on the outside.” He paused. “Mostly. Maybe there are more inside me, more that I’ve yet to find.” He lifted his hand, lightly brushing over the faded scar across her temple. Phantom pain from when it was inflicted on her shuddered through her body. “You’ve got them too, maybe more than what I have. I’d take them all away if I could.”
“Maybe what we need isn’t to brush them away, but to face them together.” She sounded like a cheesy Hallmark movie. But he didn’t laugh or even smile as he gently caressed her cheek. His eyes were a hundred miles away, lost in thought.
“For you, I would,” he whispered.
She wanted to say more, but the words weren’t coming, and then there was a loud knock at the door. Chris was on his feet in a second, with a gun she didn’t even realize he’d had. Where had that been while they were talking? He gently clicked the safety off as he approached the door and motioned for her to leave the room. She positioned herself behind a partition instead. He glared at her, but he turned back to the door.
“W
ho is it?” he asked.
“Dumbass, open the door. It’s me.” A distinctly feminine voice filtered through the closed door.
Chris turned white, pale white, like sickly white. He looked like he might fall over. He closed his eyes, regaining his composure, and slid the safety back into place. He tucked it into his waistband at the small of his back and unlocked the door.
Abigail stared at the young woman and the man on the other side. The man was about Chris’s height, but instead of Chris’s stormy grays, he had icy blue eyes that looked like they could have melted the polar ice caps. Dark hair was cropped close to his head, fading shorter as it got closer to his ears. The black t-shirt he wore stretched across his chest like a canvas, and the blue jeans had no extra material but had plenty of give.
The girl was a different story. Familiar gray eyes stared at the two of them. Matching blonde hair adorned her head, brushing over her shoulders as her gaze went from Chris to her and back to Chris again. She wore a soft blue blouse with white buttons and white jeans that flared at the ankles to cover the white sandals on her delicate feet.
“No fucking hello for your sister, you asshole?” The girl’s face turned into an angry frown.
“Hi, Addison,” he said weakly, the surprise still holding him frozen. He blinked and then he woke up. He crushed his sister into a giant hug, one that lasted as long as they needed. The dark-haired man’s gaze flicked over them to Abigail, curiosity coloring him as Chris let go of his sister and let Murphy pull him into a quick one-armed half-hug-half-clap-on-the-back. “Hey, Murph.”
He let them into the apartment, quickly glancing outside the apartment before he shut the door. “What are you guys doing here?”
“I was worried,” Addison said. “Do you know how long it took us to find this stupid town?”
“I’ve been busy,” he said. “Y’all should have called.”
Addison glared at him. “And let you talk me out of a visit again?” She glanced around the room, her gray eyes finally landing on Abigail. “Who’s your friend?” She grinned knowingly at Chris. Chris looked completely overwhelmed. Then Abigail remembered what he’d told her. He wasn’t supposed to have contact with his family. He was panicking that they were here.
She held out her hand to his sister. “Hi, I’m Abigail.”
Chris took that moment while she shook his sister’s hand to grab a t-shirt and wrench it back over his chest, covering flesh Abigail would have rather touched and licked.
“Addison Hardy. This is Eamon Murphy, my fiancé.”
“Murphy grew up with us,” Chris explained. Abigail didn’t reply but nodded at least. Something reminded her of what Chris had said earlier.
I bled out on the floor of a train while he took the two people most important in my life.
Two people. She already knew one was his sister. Could this Murphy guy be the other one? She smiled and shook hands with Murphy when he held out his hand.
~*~*~
“What are you doing here?” Chris asked them. Hearing Addison’s voice on the other side of the door nearly floored him. Now his family was sitting in his living room. God, Nathan was going to bury him. They were due to leave for France in a few hours.
“I could ask the same,” Murphy said. He glanced over Chris. “You’re looking surprisingly… well.”
Fuck. His best friend was entirely too perceptive. He’d sat through his own send-off party with a cane he actually hadn’t needed. He’d lied to them both, to his old team, to everyone who’d ever meant anything.
“I’m actually on my way out of town today,” Chris said.
“Not now, you’re not,” Addison replied, sitting on the couch. “So, Abigail, how do you know Chris?”
“Um, he’s helping me, actually,” Abigail interjected. He shot her a what-the-fuck look but she ignored it. “My car had some problems, and Chris was kind enough to offer to help me out. We were just about to leave this morning to head back to Dallas.”
The lie fell so easily from her lips, or that was how it looked to him. She flashed an embarrassed grin, somehow implying that they were here for more than rest and relaxation. Shit. In another life, she’d have made it as a spy for sure. How did she learn to lie like that? From her father, the politician?
Addison’s face lit up. “Oh. Oh. Okay. Um, right. Sorry, it’s just I haven’t seen my brother in over a year and he’s never mentioned a…uh, girl, before.”
“We just reconnected recently. We really met some time ago. He pulled me out of a tough spot,” she finished. Shit. He glanced at Murphy, who was studiously staring at Abigail. Did he remember her? It had been Murphy’s mission too. He’d been right beside him when they’d stormed the bedroom. Chris might not have recognized her originally if Nathan hadn’t told him exactly where she was. But now she was standing there with no makeup, her naturally curly hair, and his clothes.
“It was my lucky day when I stumbled into him after my car problems.”
He focused back on the conversation as Abigail finished.
“So, what brings you guys here?” Chris asked.
Addison gave him a dubious stare, but Murphy was the one who answered. “We just needed a little down time.”
He’d kept tabs on his sister. They’d been traveling around with his old team, shutting down old Giroux operations. She’d changed after facing Alex Giroux, and god, he wished that he could have been there, that maybe he could have saved who she was.
Addison crossed her arms as Murphy set their bags down. She wasn’t happy, and she made no secret of it. He supposed he didn’t blame her. He was a son of a bitch in her eyes, for not even trying to contact her over the last year or so. And now she was standing in front of him. Nathan was going to dump him in the deepest fucking hole he could find.
That was if he survived Addison.
“Is this where you’ve been all this time?” she asked. Abigail studiously made herself busy in the bedroom, as if she magically realized she was hanging out in her underwear.
“Not exactly,” he admitted. “Addy, I can’t…” He sighed.
“Are you working with the SEALs again?” She asked. “Murphy didn’t say that—”
“No. I’m not.”
“You’re being awfully squirrelly,” she said.
Murphy scooped his fiancée into his arms and nuzzled against her neck as Abigail came back out, now wearing a pair of his boxers. His eyes landed on me, but he moved to kiss the top of Addy’s head. “Why don’t you and Abigail get something to drink, babe?”
Subtle, Murphy. Subtle.
Addy nodded and bared her teeth in an angry smile. “Of course.” The smile faded as she glared at her brother, but she let Abigail hook her arm with hers and pull her into the kitchen.
Murphy glared at him as the two vanished into the kitchen. When he spoke, he was quiet, careful not to raise his voice where curious Addy would hear. “Your bags are packed.”
“I said we were leaving this morning.”
“Dallas is two hours away. You’re packed for several days.”
Shit.
Murphy’s eyes drifted to the open bedroom door. He had a clear view of most of the room from where he stood. “There’s no girl clothes in the closet. Just one set of hers on the dresser. So, she doesn’t stay here.” Murphy’s eyes narrowed, and Chris resisted the urge to step back. “Doesn’t look like you just… happened to see each other. In a town of four hundred people.”
“What are you trying to say, Murph?” I asked, crossing my arms.
“I’m trying to figure out exactly what it is you’re into.”
“I’m not into anything.”
“Remember how you felt when you found out Addy had this whole life you knew nothing about?”
“Yeah,” he said. He’d been angry, that she’d lied, that she’d cut him from her life.
“Well, it seems like you’re doing the same thing.” Murphy shook his head. “You know, I tried to use our team’s resources to see what you were doi
ng, because you didn’t call, didn’t visit. She’s been worried as hell for months about you. Couldn’t get a break anywhere. No leads. Nothing. Like you vanished from the face of the earth.” He sighed, his eyes spearing him. “You know what leaves no trail?”
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“Spies.” Murphy spat the word out like it was dirt in his mouth.
“You think I’m a spy?” It wasn’t too far from the truth, but the reality was he was so much more than just a spy. He scoffed and stepped out of Murphy’s reach.
“You’re not even limping. Was the injury an act too?”
“No,” he said. “I can’t have this conversation, Murph.”
“Suit yourself.” He glared at me and then glanced back toward the kitchen, the faint sound of glasses and feminine voices drifted towards them. “You owe Addy that conversation, Chris.”
Chris swallowed, wanting to shrink back into his bedroom with Abigail and never come out. Murphy didn’t understand. Their presence was dangerous enough. Nathan was going to drop him straight into a deep, dark hole. Who knew what he’d do to his family after that?
The thing was… Murphy was right. He did owe his sister that conversation. He was just too much of a coward to have it.
~*~*~
Abigail searched through some of the cupboards until she found glasses. Abigail grabbed some iced tea from his fridge. Chris had talked about his sister like they’d been close, but if Addy’s reaction was any indication, their relationship was strained. Of course, she’d barely found out Chris had a sister at all.
“So,” Addison said as she filled the glasses with ice and poured the tea into them. “You and my brother?”
Abigail swallowed a long pull of ice tea. How did she answer that when she didn’t even know the answer? “Um, yeah.”
The blonde woman stared her down with the same intense stare Chris had given her a dozen times when he was trying to figure her out. “Hmm. Chris and I are twins, fraternal, obviously. We are fifteen minutes apart but somehow managed to have different birthdays. He’s always tried to play big brother with me. I used to hate it. But I figure I owe him the same courtesy.”