by Elise Faber
It was her limping forward with a broken ankle and a stab wound in her side.
It was . . . Ava.
I’d seen inside the carefully built walls, and I had so much fucking respect for the woman.
But she was still and silent . . . and it killed me to see her like that.
A soft knock on the door had me glancing up, and it spoke to how tired I was that I hadn’t heard it open.
Laila stood on the threshold and took one look at me before pointing down the hall. “Shut-eye. Now.”
“Lai—”
“That’s wasn’t a suggestion,” she said.
“You’re giving me orders now?” I asked.
Technically, she was the team leader, of course, but it wasn’t a common thing for her to outright tell us to do something. Usually, we worked within loose parameters Laila laid out, discussed and came up with a plan of action together. She didn’t order us around . . . unless we were at risk of hurting someone or . . . ourselves.
“Dan,” she said. “You’re of no use to her right now. Your reflexes are slow. Your senses dulled.” She shrugged, her tone no-nonsense and not the least bit soft. “You couldn’t protect her from a fly. You’re dead on your fucking feet. You need to sleep.”
Pissed off, I straightened, shoved down the fatigue. “I’m fine.”
“Definitely not fine,” she said. “Which is why I’m advising you to go the fuck to sleep so that when she wakes up, you’re ready to be there for her.”
“More orders,” I muttered.
Laila rolled her eyes. “Look, we both know the only reason you’re not running your own team is because of Ava. You’ve been in love with her for years, and you decided to stay on my team because it’s the only way you can be close to her.”
“I—”
She sighed, pushed off the wall. “Look. I’ve been there,” she reminded me. “On both sides—too fucking scared to go after the person I wanted and spending every waking moment longing for the single individual who I thought might fit me perfectly.”
“Laila—”
Laila gripped my arms, shook me lightly. “She’s strong. You know that.” A sigh. “But sometimes those that seem the strongest on the outside are the ones who need the most care on the inside.”
“You know, I would do that for her in an instant,” I said. “She’s—”
“Your everything,” Laila finished for me when I faltered. “I get that. Like I said, I’ve been there.” She stepped back, crossed her arms. “But D, I honestly don’t know if she’s ready for you or a relationship or to let anyone in. She’s been so hurt and closed down for a very long time. I’ve known her for nine years, and while I’ve seen glimmers of the woman she is beneath those shields, and I consider her a close friend, and I would never hesitate to have her at my back on a mission . . .” She sighed. “I’m . . . just not sure if she’s ready to let another person near her heart.”
“She is ready to let someone in,” I protested. “We—”
Laila shook her head. “You can’t know that.”
In all honesty, I wanted to argue, to tell her about the connection, the week in Georgia, the conversations in the cell. I wanted to tell her about the look in Ava’s eyes outside the compound, the way she’d pushed me to leave her, and the relief in them when I hadn’t. I wanted to tell Laila about the pain on Ava’s face after she’d taken the shot that killed her father and how she’d let me hold her hand in the dark cell, allowing me in past those walls, just the smallest bit.
I wanted to tell Laila about Ava’s determination.
To not let her father break her. To stay strong even though the odds were against us. To make whatever sacrifices were needed in order to get me out.
Of course, I’d rather Ava be that determined to get herself out, but I was just as stubborn, could go toe-to-toe with her when it came to her safety. I’d make any necessary sacrifices to help her in any way.
Because we were more than teammates.
She’d let me in, and I wasn’t going to allow her to wall me back out.
That was what made me certain that the bond we’d formed was permanent.
I was in. Because she’d let me in.
And I wasn’t going backward.
“I know it,” I said. “I know we’ve crossed the first hurdle. She cracked open the door, and I’m in.”
There was doubt written across her face. “Dan,” Laila said on a sigh. “I don’t know that you can honestly get into someone who’s done everything to keep everyone out.” Her lips pressed flat. “If she doesn’t want someone in, it doesn’t matter how persistent or stubborn you are, you aren’t getting in. She’ll rebuild those walls, and they’ll be a hundred times stronger.”
“It’s not like that.”
A nod. An expression that told me Laila was unsure, even in the face of my determination and stubbornness. “Sleep, Plantain. Everything else will hold till you’ve had shut-eye.”
More arguments on the tip of my tongue.
More arguments I knew wouldn’t change Laila’s mind, nor what would happen between me and Ava.
More arguments I swallowed, pushed down, ignored for the moment.
Because Laila was right.
Ava might have let me in, might have allowed me to see a part of her that the rest of the world wasn’t privy to, but it wasn’t like she wasn’t going to keep the walls down, the castle gate flung wide. She would retreat.
I just needed to make sure she didn’t retreat from me.
Which meant I needed to be conscious and well-rested if I had a hope in hell of winning the battle that lay ahead.
Twenty-Four
Northeast England
KTS Headquarters
19:47hrs local time
Ava
The first thing I was aware of was the noise.
A steady beep-beep, beep-beep, beep-beep. The woosh of a fan. Quiet footsteps as water turned off then back on.
“You should go sleep again,” came a soft female voice. I swam through the fog, tried to place it. Everything was soft and fuzzy and heavy and slow.
“Not yet.”
“Dan.”
“I’ll rest soon,” he said. “I promise.”
Dan.
Dan.
The memories poured back into my brain, as quickly as the bullets had flown in that compound, as quickly as our tide had turned at the hotel—
The shipment.
Kids. Women. Men.
“I’m worried about you,” Olive—yes, the fog had cleared enough that I recognized Olive’s voice. “You’re hardly eating or sleeping. You need to rest soon, or I’ll pull rank.”
“A few more hours then I’ll rest.”
“I’m holding you to that.”
“Roger, Dr. Evil.”
A sigh. “Shut it, you.” Footsteps moving away. “I’ll see you in two hours.”
The door opened and closed with a soft click.
Warm fingers covered mine. “I know you’re awake.”
My eyes flew open.
I was in a clinic, and though the initial glance didn’t tell me where in the world I was, it was enough for me to grasp that we were in one of KTS’s buildings.
“Headquarters,” Dan said, and my gaze flicked to his. “It was touch and go there for a bit, so Olive flew you back here.”
“That’s why I feel like I got hit by a truck?”
“A gunshot, a broken ankle, and a knife wound will do that to a girl.” His fingers convulsed lightly in mine. “You in a lot of pain? Need me to go get Olive?”
“No,” I said. “No more pain medicine. I need my head to be clear.”
Already, tendrils of pain were threatening to pull me back under, but I needed to know. “Ryker and Laila? Are they okay?”
“The team is fine. No one was injured aside from you.”
“Your head,” I said, trying to lift my free arm to point at the fading purples and yellows on his temple and cheek. “Your ribs.”
“Only a mild concussion and bruises.”
“What about the shipment?”
His face clouded.
Fuck.
“The teams were in position, but nothing showed.” He sighed. “The other two teams stayed after Laila realized we weren’t responding to our coms. But they must have called it off. The ships you spotted from the room disappeared, and we weren’t able to have air support in time to track them.”
My brows drew down. “But why?”
His eyes met mine. “They were relocated.”
“Daniel?” I asked, stomach sinking.
“Either that or there’s someone else.”
“Fuck.”
A smile. “Yes,” he said then reached up as though he were going to touch my cheek. But then he hesitated. “Okay?”
The beep-beep, beep-beep, beep-beep on the monitors sped up, betraying the twin feelings coursing through me: panic—would what we’d found in that dark hole still be there, and hope—it had to still be there, right?
Right?
I released a slow breath and nodded.
Dan’s fingers brushed my cheek.
And . . . it was still there.
Warmth filling me at his touch, sparking through my veins, filling my heart with bubbling champagne.
Right before reality set in.
Because really?
Was it possible that the two of us might work out? Or was it more likely the affection in his eyes would fizzle out, that he would find something broken inside me, see the missing parts, and just . . . walk away?
“Release the lines,” he whispered, fingers shifting to rub lightly between my brows. “It’s just you and me and nothing else, okay?”
I made a face. “It’s not that easy.”
“Want me to turn out the lights?”
I giggled. Me. I actually giggled, a light tinkling laugh that I never in a million years would have expected to escape from my lips.
And the effect it had on Dan’s face was incredible.
“God, I love it when you laugh,” he murmured, almost reverently.
Which was more insanity.
Because I was just me. Just Ava, and I hadn’t done anything that would have anyone looking at me like I’d hung the moon or speak to me like I was important. I was a tool, a pawn, an agent who put my body on the line.
Except . . . not anymore.
I wasn’t the little girl who saw the bad in her family and wanted to be like them.
I wasn’t the hurting teenager who finally understood the cost of doing that.
And I wasn’t the terrified woman whose barbed exterior kept everyone at a distance for fear of being looked at too closely and being found lacking.
Better to be found lacking initially.
Or perhaps better yet to not be found at all.
“You found me,” I whispered, not realizing at first that I’d spoken aloud, continuing the conversation in my head until Dan’s hand shifted and cupped my cheek.
“I did,” he said gently. “And I’m not letting you go.”
Somehow, the words didn’t terrify me.
Instead, they filled me with even more warmth. But I was still me. I was still Ava and just because I was maybe coming to the conclusion that I wasn’t so broken or lacking or messed up, I was still me. Sharp and tough and with plenty of attitude.
“I don’t need you to let go,” I said. “I can free myself if I want to.”
Unfortunately, the statement was punctuated with a yawn, my body reminding me that it had been through a huge trauma and I was lucky to be alive.
“True,” Dan said. “But I’m good at taking a beating. So bring it on, sweetheart.”
“Not, sweetheart,” I argued on another yawn.
“Right.” He shifted like he was going to stand. “I’ll let you sleep.”
“Dan?” I asked.
Gentle eyes on mine. “Yeah.”
“Will you turn out the lights?”
Because dark suddenly wasn’t so scary, because being stuck in a small, dimly lit space wasn’t terrifying.
Because of Dan.
He understood what I was saying and nodded before standing up and walking to the door.
The lights flicked off.
Twenty-Five
Northeast England
KTS Headquarters
20:01hrs local time
Dan
“What are you doing?” she exclaimed as I reached the small chair that had become my bed over the last four nights.
I’d just turned off the lights, was getting ready to settle in and watch her sleep—until Olive kicked me out, that was—when Ava’s sharp question reached my ears.
“Letting you sleep,” I said.
“And”—I heard a click, saw the tiny spotlight over her bed turn on—“where are you planning on sleeping?”
I pointed at the chair.
She scowled. “That’s tiny.”
“It’s a chair,” I said. “What size do you expect it to be?”
“You can’t sleep there.”
I lifted a brow. Her scowl grew darker. “I believe that technically I’m the one who decides where I can sleep.”
“This is my room,” she pointed out.
“Is it?” I said, sitting down and letting my legs spread out in front of me.
“Dan.”
“Hmm?” I asked, my eyes closing.
“Dan.”
“Hmm?” I asked again.
“You need to go to your room.”
“I will,” I told her. “When you do.”
She glowered. “Why are you giving me shit when I’m recovering from a gunshot wound, a knife wound, and a broken ankle?”
I grinned. “Because I like you, sweet cheeks.”
“Are you trying to piss me off?”
“Is it working?”
An annoyed sound and I half-expected her to order me to leave. Not that I would. Now that she’d woken up, I wasn’t going anywhere.
“No,” she snapped. “Stop grinning.”
I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing . . . at least until I got beaned by a pillow.
“You’re not funny,” she declared.
“I know,” I said. “But I like fighting with you.”
“Ugh.” She shifted in the bed, and I snatched up the pillow, hurrying over to her when it looked like she was going to attempt to get up. There were all sorts of monitors and tubes still attached to her, and I wasn’t about to mess any of that up. As much as I was arguing, I’d leave before I’d risk her hurting herself.
I would go . . . then just sneak back later.
But when I reached the bed, it wasn’t to find her attempting an escape. Instead, she slid to one side and lifted the edge of the blanket. “Come on then.”
I froze, the pillow in my hands. “What?”
“Get your ass in this bed, so we can both get some sleep.”
“I shouldn’t—”
“You trying to pick a fight?” she asked. “Or are you getting in?”
I tucked the pillow behind her head. “I don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart.”
“You’re hurting me by not letting me get some sleep,” she pointed out, not inaccurately.
“You’ll tell me if I hurt you?”
Those brown eyes rolled. “You won’t hurt me, Dan.”
The way she said that, with complete and utter conviction, stole my breath, made my heart squeeze tight. Because she believed it. And it was probably the only thing she could have said to make me climb into bed with her.
Which was an oxymoron, wasn’t it?
Any other time I’d be diving between those sheets.
Tonight, however, I slid in carefully, slipping an arm beneath her shoulders, and holding my breath for a moment when she cuddled into me.
At least until she whispered, “Breathe, Dan.”
Then I closed my eyes, relaxed, and breathed, just like she’d ordered.
19:14hrs
Two days after
Ava had woken up, Olive gave her the all-clear to leave the infirmary.
She was weeks—okay, months away from active duty—mostly due to her ankle, but also due to the wounds. After she’d gotten the blood loss under control and given Ava several transfusions to replace the blood she’d lost, Olive had needed to pump some serious antibiotics into Ava’s system. And that was on top of an emergency surgery Ava had needed at the satellite base in order for Olive to remove the bullet.
Once Ava had been stable enough for transport, the whole team had flown back to England, to the better medical equipment, knowing that Ava would need the newest tech they had for physical therapy.
Save the life in the field.
Stabilize at the satellite base.
And then full recovery came at headquarters.
“I fucking hate this,” she muttered as I wheeled her down the hall.
If she didn’t have the broken ankle, she might have been able to make it by simply walking—albeit slowly—to her room. But with her ankle casted and the twin healing wounds on her abdomen, Ava wasn’t in any position to be walking anywhere.
“Bitching won’t change anything,” I said.
A beat, her head tilting up to glare at me. “You were nicer in the cell.”
“So were you.”
She snorted, shaking her head when she saw my lips twitching. “Thanks for wheeling me,” she muttered after a few minutes of rolling. “Olive and Laila threatened to put bells on the chair if I went by myself.”
“Should I grab some cans from the kitchen and tie them to the wheels?”
“Like one of those Just Married cars?”
“Exactly.”
“When I get her, I’ll introduce Luna 2.0 to you”—another glare—“and your junk.”
I winced. “No cans. Got it.”
She didn’t reply, but I watched her stifle a yawn and sink back a little more in the chair. As much as she hated the fact it was going to take her time to recover—she was right up there with my patience—that was just a fact.
“Stupid ankle,” she muttered, something I’d heard already more than a few times. “Without it, I’d be back in a few weeks.”
