Erasing Faith

by Julie Johnson

  But now, it was just a reach away.

  My stomach turned and my hands twitched in desire to curl around my pistol as I watched Benson deliver a brutal kick to Wes’ side. Looming over him, he watched carefully to see if Wes would regain consciousness and seemed angry when he failed to.

  “Pick him up, put him in that chair,” he snapped at Istvan, gesturing toward Wes’ prone form.

  “Is there a reason I can’t just kill him now?” Istvan muttered.

  Benson’s eyes went cold — he didn’t like his authority questioned. “Besides the fact that I fucking said so?” His voice was even more frigid than his gaze. “I want him alive so I can see the look in his eyes when I finally put a bullet between them.”

  I watched helplessly as Istvan grabbed Wes under the armpits and heaved his body into one of the straight-backed wooden chairs. Benson’s eyes were glued to Wes, his hawk-like gaze unwavering. I used the few unsupervised seconds to reach into my purse and extract my Lady Smith. I’d never been so grateful for the pistol’s small size — it was practically undetectable, clasped between my hands. I positioned my body behind the table — a measly shield, but it at least kept their eyes at bay.

  When Wes was settled in the chair, both Istvan and Benson turned back to face me. I felt my hands go clammy against the metal barrel of my gun as they stepped closer, moving in unison at some unspoken signal. What they didn’t see, with both their eyes trained on me, was Wes, whose face contorted in a mask of pain as he twitched back into consciousness. His eyes weren’t yet open, but he was coming to.

  I felt hope flutter in the pit of my stomach. Alone, against the two of them, I stood about as much chance of lasting as an iceberg in hell. But with Wes’ help, maybe I could make it out of here.

  If he didn’t make a sound…

  If they didn’t notice him moving…

  If I could stall until he awoke…

  …we might just have a chance.

  There were altogether too many “ifs” in that equation for my liking.

  “Is this the part where you kill me?” I glared at Benson, putting a few more feet of distance between us, hoping to draw them further from Wes. His eyelids were fluttering slightly — I hoped he was listening.

  “No,” Benson said. “This is the part where he kills you.”

  Istvan stepped closer to me and I could see, behind the burned skin he wore like a horrific Halloween costume, a madness in his eyes that hadn’t been there three years ago.

  “Istvan, you don’t have to do this,” I said, taking another step away. This time, my back hit the wall — there was nowhere else to go.

  “I don’t have to,” he said, a dark edge to his voice. “I want to. I’ve thought about you a lot over the years, Faith. A lot.” His eyes skimmed down my body in a hungry way that made my stomach clench in fear. “Been looking forward to this for a long time.”

  Shit.

  “You really don’t think other people will figure out what you’re planning?” My voice trembled a little, but I kept speaking, trying to keep my eyes steady on Benson. I couldn’t bear to look at Istvan anymore and I was too scared to glance in Wes’ direction, fearing they’d notice he was waking up. “You think Wes is the only one smart enough to figure out you’re working with Szekely?”

  Benson’s glare intensified. “No one will find out and, even if they do, it doesn’t matter. As soon as I’ve brokered the prototype deal, I’ll leave the agency.”

  “They’ll find you.” I lifted my chin and narrowed my eyes at him. “They’ll track you down and kill you.”

  “Szekely’s base is impenetrable,” Istvan chimed in, his voice boastful. “Even if they find it, they won’t get inside.”

  “I thought his compound was destroyed three years ago,” I said, trying my best to sound guileless.

  “His Budapest compound, maybe,” Istvan snarled. “But not the underground one—”

  “Bordas!” Benson clipped, trying to cut him off. It was too late.

  “—in Tokaj,” he finished.

  I tried to hide my smile. Istvan had always been a little too chatty for his own good.

  “Dammit, Bordas!” Benson yelled, turning to his partner. “Shut your mouth in front of her.”

  “Who’s she gonna tell? She’ll be dead in a few minutes.”

  I paid no attention to his words, or the angry rebuttal Benson shot back at him — my eyes were locked on Wes, who’d finally regained consciousness. Our eyes met and I saw, there in the depths of his gaze, that he knew exactly what was happening here. I scanned his face, taking in the slight lift of his brows, the infinitesimal tilt of his head in Benson’s direction, and it was as though, in that sliver of time, we shared one mind. I adjusted my grip on the gun and bobbed my head in a tiny show of acknowledgement.

  I was ready to end this.

  Our gazes locked together, I counted down, hearing Wes’s voice inside my head, rattling off numbers with me. Chasing away the fear.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  Four.

  Five.

  I lifted the gun and fired.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight: WESTON

  BRAVE

  Faith’s aim was true.

  In my peripherals, I saw her shot tear into the flesh of Benson’s left leg, just above his knee. He fell to the ground screaming like a coward, his lack of field training to withstand pain never more apparent than that moment. Before he or Bordas could even think about returning fire, I was out of my chair, kicking the gun from Benson’s limp hand into the far corner of the room, where it was inaccessible to him. He was so incapacitated by his shattered kneecap, I doubted he’d be able to fire a gun, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

  “Bitch!” Bordas cursed, turning to Faith. Lifting his gun in her direction.

  There was no choice. Not a single thought or hesitation.

  Not when her life was at risk.

  He never saw me coming. My hands wrapped around his head from behind and I exerted just enough pressure to snap his neck. I heard the sickening pop as his spine cracked in two, the thin vertebrae there no match for the strength and fury of my grip. He fell to the ground like a rag doll.

  I could’ve simply incapacitated him.

  I chose not to.

  As soon as he’d threatened to kill Faith, he was living on borrowed time. A dead man walking. Maybe it made me a bad person, but I found great satisfaction in knowing Istvan Bordas was no longer walking this earth, posing a threat to the woman I loved.

  My eyes flew to Faith, who was huddled against the cabin wall, fear and shock shining clearly in her eyes. I hated seeing it there — knowing I’d been the one to put it there. I’d never wanted her to see me like that.

  As a killer.

  Even though that’s exactly who I was.

  “Red,” I whispered, my voice soft. “I’m sorry you had to see… I never wanted—”

  My words broke off when she lifted her gun, hand trembling with the effort, and pointed it at me. I felt something break inside me, as I realized I no longer had her trust… or her love. As I realized that, to her, I was just another one of the bad guys.

  “Faith.” The word was hollow, the plea of a broken man.

  I closed my eyes when I heard the shot go off, waiting for the burn of the bullet as it tore through me.

  It never came.

  Instead, I heard a thud and turned to see Benson falling back to the ground, his hand bleeding profusely. The gun he’d grabbed from Bordas’ body fell beside him. I’d been so distracted, I hadn’t even seen him take the gun. If she hadn’t intervened… I’d be dead.

  God, I loved that woman.

  Leaning down, I collected the gun and shoved it into the back of my jeans. With a disgusted look, I stepped over Benson’s wailing form. Judging by the mangled flesh that was his right hand, he’d never be able to zipper his fly again, let alone fire a gun.

  By the time I’d retrieved the handcuffs from my bag and cu
ffed his uninjured wrist to a table leg, he’d passed out, which was fine by me. His shrieking was getting on my last nerve and it was easier to convince myself to tourniquet his injuries when I didn’t have to listen to his voice.

  I wiped my blood-streaked hands on my pant legs before I approached Faith. I moved slowly, my gaze locked on her face. The gun was still wrapped tight in her hands. Hunching, I forced her eyes to meet mine as I slowly tugged it from her grip.

  “It’s okay, Red.” My voice was gentle. “It’s over.”

  As soon as I took the pistol, she let out a mewl of relief and melted against me. I wrapped my arms around her and held tight.

  “He—he was going to hurt you,” she whispered needlessly, panic and shock lacing her tone. “I shot him… I shot him.”

  “You saved my life.” My words were fierce, my mouth pressed hard against her hair. “I’d be dead if you hadn’t. And so would a hell of a lot more people, if his scheme for Szekely’s weapon had gone as planned.”

  She was trembling, so I tightened my arms around her, crushing her to my chest in an unbreakable hold. “Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?”

  She shook her head.

  “I have to call this in. The sooner that bastard is locked up, the happier I’ll be,” I growled, casting a glance back at the man who’d been my handler for more than five years. “Will you be okay for a minute, while I call?”

  She nodded.

  I looked into her eyes and what I saw there worried me — that faraway, distant look told me she was still processing what had happened. I reminded myself she wasn’t used to this kind of violence, that she’d never really been in a situation like this before, except for the Hermes fire.

  “Faith Morrissey,” I said, waiting for her to look up and meet my eyes. When she did, I cupped her cheeks in my hands. “You are the bravest person I know. Do you realize that?”

  I saw a tiny bit of light return to her eyes and I knew, then, that she’d be okay. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, I turned to fish the cellphone out of Benson’s pocket and call Command. It was past time they knew what this prick had been up to.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine: FAITH

  KRYPTONITE

  He came back after a few minutes, that worried look still on his face whenever he glanced in my direction. I could tell he was anxious about me. He thought I was in shock, because I’d seen him kill Bordas, because I’d shot Benson.

  I wasn’t.

  Neither of those things gave me pause.

  It wasn’t Benson’s actions that haunted my thoughts — not the way he’d looked as he casually threatened thousands of innocent lives, or the cavalier tone of his voice when he’d declared Istvan was going to kill me. Instead, it was his words that stalked me, echoing in my mind over and over until I thought I might explode.

  Because of you, he didn’t realize what was happening until it was far too late.

  You’re responsible for his death.

  The one who killed him.

  “Red.” Wes was in front of me, his palms warm on my cheeks again. “He can’t hurt you ever again. There are agents on their way here as we speak — they’ll take Benson into custody and this will finally be over. You’re safe, now.”

  “I know,” I whispered. “But you aren’t.”

  His eyebrows went up. “What?”

  “He said I was your fatal flaw. Your kryptonite.” I could feel my eyes watering. “Maybe he’s right — you almost got killed because of me… Maybe it was silly to think we could do this, without one of us getting hurt. Maybe we shouldn’t…”

  “Hey.” He cut me off and his eyes were suddenly stormy with emotion. “Don’t say that.”

  “But—”

  “I used to think like he does — that love is a weakness.” His words were low, full of passion. “You were the one who taught me it’s not. Faith — you aren’t my Achilles heel. You’re not a flaw or a defect or a shortcoming; you’re a salvation. A strength. A cure. A gift.”

  A few tears escaped beneath my lashes and slipped down my cheeks.

  “You gave my something to live for. Not just exist — live. And that’s not something he can take away from us with a few words of doubt. No one can take that away from us, Red. Not ever.”

  I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressed my body into his, and buried my face against his shoulder.

  “I love you,” I said, my words adamant. “Then. Now. Always.”

  His lips found mine and he breathed a single word just before his mouth crashed down in a kiss that reassured me, in every possible way, that our love was unshakeable. Immoveable. Unrelenting.

  “Always.”

  Chapter Sixty: FAITH

  HAPPILY EVER AFTER

  “Come on, Red.”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “I hate surprises.”

  “I know.”

  He was far too cheerful — something was going on, and I wanted to know what. I grumbled and groaned until we neared the promenade and, abruptly, I knew exactly where he was leading me.

  “Our bridge?” I guessed, a smile stretching my lips.

  He just grinned and tugged me along.

  It was strange and wonderful to be back in Budapest, where it had all started — where we had started. We’d been here a week, retracing the steps we’d walked three years ago, repainting the lies and betrayals which had once clouded my image of this beautiful city with bright new memories — full of love and laughter and the promise of a new life together.

  It all felt a little surreal, maybe because it had happened so fast. After I’d shot him, Benson had been airlifted from the cabin to a military hospital and then immediately transferred into agency custody. According to Wes, Benson folded before the interrogation even started, his cowardice unwavering as ever, especially since it was his ass on the line. With the intel he’d provided, the CIA raided Szekely’s underground facilities in Tokaj, as well as two smaller compounds in Romania and Turkey. The illegal arms they’d confiscated there would put Szekely — along with dozens of his men — away for the rest of their lives.

  Sometimes, as I wandered the streets of Budapest, seeing it with new eyes, I found myself thinking back to before. Remembering the people I’d known then. Cranky Irenka, slutty Anna, brooding Marko. But, most often, I thought of Konrad. I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to that smiling, scrappy teen I’d once known. Wes told me he hadn’t been in any of the compounds during the raid.

  I hoped he’d made it out of that life. That he’d get a shot at being his own person.

  Everyone deserves that chance, at the very least.

  We had another few days in Budapest before we left for Sydney. It was the only part of the trip I’d insisted on. I needed to see the place Margot had loved enough to call home, even for a short time. I needed to lay flowers in that alley, and feel the salt on my cheeks on a windy day outside the opera house.

  I needed to say goodbye to my friend.

  From there, I had no idea where we’d go. I’d been practically nowhere; Wes had been pretty much everywhere. He was determined to show me the world; I was happy to let him.

  The minute I heard Szekely was behind bars, I’d officially quit my job and given up the lease on my apartment in New York. That same day, Wes had terminated his contract with the agency. They weren’t happy to see him go, but they couldn’t hold him. Not after he’d given them Benson and Szekely on a silver platter.

  So, at long last, we were free.

  We didn’t have a plan. We’d blow from place to place, carried by the wind, two fallen leaves in a vortex of possibility. Who knew where we’d land?

  I didn’t care, so long as we were together. For me, home was Wes.

  “Is there some kind of festival?” I asked, my eyes scanning the bridge. It was often closed to auto traffic on weekends, but this was different. There were no vendor carts parked along the road. No guided walking tours for tourists grouped at the sto
ne lions, snapping photos. No pedestrians clogged the entryway. Besides the solitary man standing guard at the blockaded entrance, the bridge was entirely empty — something I’d never seen, in all my trips across it. My curiosity mounted as we walked ever closer and the railings came into focus.

  I thought it was snow, at first.

  Thick braided ropes of white flowers had been strung from one side of the bridge to the other — a million blooms, all pure white. They covered every surface like a bizarre floral ice storm had swept across the Danube, leaving nothing but blossoms behind.

  I gasped at the beauty of it.

  It was nearly Christmas; flowers wouldn’t bloom here for several months, so they must’ve been imported, likely at great expense. But, whatever the cost, the effect was undeniable. Magical. A winter wonderland of snowy petals, blanketing the stonework of the bridge.

  The flowers’ beauty was starkly juxtaposed with the harsh metal beneath — a dichotomy in its most basic form.

  Hard and soft, grit and grace, winter and spring.

  A contradiction.

  And, just like that, I knew.

  “You did this,” I breathed, my breath puffing visibly in the cold air. My hand squeezed his as we stepped past the guard, who smiled knowingly in our direction, onto the abandoned bridge. I felt not a flicker of fear at the prospect of crossing, as my eyes swept around, taking it all in. I looked over at Wes, wide eyed. His crooked grin confirmed it.

  “But… why?” I asked, my voice laced with wonderment.

  He stopped and pulled me in for a long, lingering kiss.

  “Because I love you,” he said simply. “Now, come on. You’re going to miss your surprise.”

  I laughed. “I thought this was the surprise.”

  His grin widened, his hand tightened on mine, and he tugged me further out onto the bridge. We walked for several minutes in silence, both admiring the ivory beauty around us, until we reached the exact center. There, Wes stopped and turned to face me, his eyes holding a gravity I’d rarely seen in the past.