All We Are (The Six Series Book 5)

by Sonya Loveday

  There was no way I could walk. He knew it too. Which was probably why he stormed off and left me standing in the pain-filled misery of my own making.

  I’d crawl back to my room on my hands and knees before I asked him for his help. He probably knew that as well. Bastard that he was, he’d probably parked his ass right outside my door so he could watch me crawl.

  One thing was for certain, I could no longer stay on my feet. And I’d completely screwed myself by losing my cool and smashing shit in a fit of childishness.

  I collapsed on the floor and then brought my knees under me, turned my head, and spit the blood from my mouth before lowering my head to the cool tile to steady myself.

  “Taken up Hinduism?”

  “Go away, Trent,” I said, unable to put any sort of bite to my words.

  He didn’t go away. Instead, he hoisted me onto the couch and grabbed my ankle when I attempted, feebly, to kick him, then held me in place with a growl. I gave up fighting. He wasn’t going to give. I wasn’t going to either and I’d only end up hurting myself even more.

  Plink. Plink. Plink. Each piece of glass hit the small dish he’d brought from the kitchen. Jesus, I’d done a number on my feet. He moved with methodical movements. And once the glass was removed from one foot, he wiped it down with something that felt like liquid fire and then moved to the other foot.

  I closed my eyes, not wanting to see the way the sunlight reflected on his hair or the curve of his jaw. It was torture as surely as if he’d made me walk along the glass instead of me doing it to myself. After a few minutes, his brisk movement had gentled. The firm grip had loosened. And for just the briefest of seconds, when I’d closed my eyes, I swore I felt his thumb move in the slightest caress.

  When he was finished, he picked everything up without a word and left me on the couch. I curled up on my side, trying my best to ignore the excruciating pain that sizzled on the bottoms of my feet.

  He hadn’t gone far. I could hear him moving around the kitchen as he shut cabinet doors, turned on the sink, and let the water run. The bump of the trash can being moved and then the rasp of a paper towel as he cleaned up the mess I’d made.

  I closed my eyes against the homey sounds. Willed myself to rest. To heal so that I’d be ready to bolt at the first opportunity. Injured or not.

  CHAPTER 29

  JOSH

  “They found a body,” Oliver said, shaking me awake.

  I bolted to my feet. “Where? Who?”

  “Come on, I’ll explain on the way,” Oliver said, nodding at Eli as we slipped out of the room.

  Alex hadn’t budged, and I had a feeling it was Eli’s doing. Alex wasn’t one of us, so Oliver wouldn’t take him into the field and risk putting him in danger or him blowing our cover.

  We didn’t speak again until we’d left the shore behind. Oliver, at the throttle of the boat he’s managed to get, had us cutting along the water like a missile.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, watching the shoreline disappear.

  “Cuba,” Oliver answered, adding, “The body was discovered by a local out fishing. Had a hell of a time getting it back without losing it to the sharks. From what I understand, there isn’t a whole lot of it left. But it might be enough to figure out who he was.”

  “And once we find out?” I asked.

  “We run intel. Find out who he was. The vessel he was on board, what type of vessel it was, and then check against different ports and airfields to see where he came from and where he was headed to.”

  My stomach clenched. “That could take days.”

  “It could. Or it might take hours. We won’t know until we get there and start,” Oliver replied.

  “How can you be so calm? Trent has Ella. A high-profile client’s daughters are missing and we have no idea if the body we’re going to go look at has anything to do with either situation?”

  I wanted to reach out and shake him just to get some sort of reaction out of him.

  “It’s always the same… mostly. Bad vs. good. The story lines change, but the outcome is always the same. I haven’t not completed a mission yet without the outcome I wanted. And that won’t start now,” he answered, standing as if that would help him better see the horizon and then pointed at something way out in the distance and asked, “Do you see that?”

  I stood. Whatever it was, it was far enough away that it blinked in and out of view.

  The boat slowed, but only for a moment as Oliver popped the latch of the waterproof storage area under one of the seats, dug out a pair of binoculars, and tossed them to me and then we were off again.

  “Divers maybe?” I said, tying the line Oliver tossed to me after I boarded the other boat. It was slightly smaller than our own, and left to bob along the water like a bathtub toy.

  “No dive flag or buoy anywhere that I can see,” Oliver said, lowering the binoculars I’d handed over to him when we’d come alongside the empty vessel.

  “Maybe they ran out of gas?” I said, moving around behind the wheel to see if a key had been left behind, but found the ignition empty. “Damn.”

  “What’s that up at the bow?” Oliver leaned over as much as he could without falling in.

  “Looks like a bracket for mounting something.” I leaned closer. “Looks rusted.”

  I touched the small patch and brought my fingers up for closer inspection as a string of hair caught my attention.

  “It’s blood… and look at this.” I pulled the piece of hair free, pinching it between my fingers and held it up for Oliver to see. Both dread and excitement filled me as I waited for him to confirm that it was Ella’s hair.

  Oliver held it up in the sunlight, eyes squinted in thought and then he turned, rummaged around in the small storage area again and brought out two transparent plastic sleeves. He handed one to me and said, “Scrape off as much of that blood as you can into the bag and don’t touch it.”

  “It’s Ella’s. Isn’t it?” I asked, hoping he’d tell me I was wrong or I was jumping to conclusions. It wasn’t like Ella was the only person in the world with brown hair. Both Allyson and Summer had brown hair too. All three of them different shades, but brown all the same.

  If I hadn’t been looking at him, I would have missed the way he tensed up. It was brief, but it told me so much. He was worried. Oliver never worried.

  I scrapped the blood into the bag as Oliver landed on the deck beside me, phone in hand, taking pictures.

  We were back on our own boat a few minutes later and were off like a shot, Oliver pushing the motor to its limits. The water lapped against the side of the boat when Oliver finally throttled down, coasting into a small docking area as he said, “Don’t say anything. I don’t want anyone to know we’re American.”

  I nodded.

  The embargo might have been lifted, but that didn’t mean the government of Cuba had changed their minds about Americans. Better to stay silent and leave the island than pop up on their radar and not be able to leave.

  CHAPTER 30

  ELLA

  I dozed fitfully off and on for more than a day. Trent left me alone for the most part. Nudging me awake to take a sip of water, or a bite of food. I had no concept of time. Had no idea how long I’d been in and out of it. It could have been hours, or days that I lay there.

  The couch dipped, pulling me to the surface once more.

  I hissed, pulling my knees up to my chest when Trent poked at the bandages on my feet. “Healing nicely,” he said, holding out his hand, palm up. The little white pills resting there moved closer to my face. “Take these. It’ll help.”

  I pushed myself up and moved further down the couch. “I’m not taking anything you give me. Do I look that stupid?”

  He clenched his fist, closing the pills out of sight. “Have it your way then.”

  He got up from the couch, leaving me alone once more. Tired as I was, I just didn’t have it in me to crawl back to my room. And I really didn’t have it in me to be afraid of Trent right the
n. Had he wanted to hurt me, he would’ve forced me to walk with glass embedded in my feet. He hadn’t though. He’d taken care of me.

  I didn’t want to think about what that meant. Didn’t want to confuse myself into believing he was the same man I’d known.

  There were so many unanswered questions I had. Questions I feared asking, yet desperately wanted answers to. And what if the answers weren’t what I wanted to hear? Could I listen to him explain why he’d left me thinking he was dead? Had he really loved me like he told me he had? Did I want him to love me like that again?

  How could I love someone who’d turned into everything I fought against? And did I still love him?

  No, my subconscious answered. Yes, my heart argued.

  And Josh?

  The thought of him twisted me even more out of control. I’d used him. Used the feelings he gave me. The chemistry between us. I’d taken all he’d given and felt no shame for it. No remorse. I’d needed that. The touch of a man. The feeling of a need met.

  He was a distraction.

  No, he wasn’t.

  He was a willing body.

  Maybe so, but you know there was more to it than that.

  He’d become a friend.

  A friend with very talented benefits that may or may not be dead because of you.

  It was possible.

  Probable. You heard the gun fire. You saw him hit the deck right before you tumbled over.

  Shut up, conscience!

  My mind clearly needed to be purged. Having an argument with yourself had to be the first step of going crazy, or a sign of mental instability.

  It didn’t matter which one it was, crazy or mental, both didn’t hold much appeal to me.

  And worse, all I had for company were my thoughts and my husband, first husband… ex-husband? Was there a right term? I’d been considered a widow when I’d thought him dead. Was I now an ex-widow?

  More like a black widow… shouldn’t you be looking for a way out or worrying over Josh? You did marry him.

  I had no other options!

  Lie. You could have stopped it at any point. You could have pulled Allyson aside and told her that you weren’t ready to marry him, or that you weren’t sure you wanted to marry him. She would have respected your wishes.

  And if something would have happened to her? We went along with the wedding to keep tabs on her. And why am I explaining this to you… to myself?

  I forced myself to sit up. Forced my thoughts to settle and took a deep breath. There was the briefest moment where I swore I caught a whiff of something different in the air. When I tested the air again, I realized that it must have been whatever cleaner Trent used in the kitchen.

  A few minutes later, Trent stood before me again with an unopened bottle of wine, two plastic cups in one hand, and a chair from the kitchen. He handed the cups to me and then poured the wine.

  He sat, putting the bottle between his feet and took the cup I held out to him. A warning rang through my head. How many times had we shared a bottle of wine? Once. On our twenty-four-hour honeymoon. We’d married without consent. Uncaring what anyone thought. It had been a quick ceremony in Reno, and then we’d made a mad dash for the room we’d rented for the night. Our excuses had been made to cover our hidden agenda. Oliver expected us back in Chicago the following day and didn’t think twice about Trent telling him that we were going to get some rest and head back in the morning after a long day of slogging through intel on a high-profile case. Someone else would take what we’d learned and head out into the field to complete the mission.

  We’d shared the bottle. Talked. Took our time enjoying each other. It had been the best twenty-four hours of my life.

  I sipped the wine from my cup slowly. In part to hide my thoughts as if they’d show on my face, and in part to keep the memory from slipping past my lips.

  The wine warmed me, filling my head with its heady scent, and pulsed through my body. It left me comfortably numb as I held the cup out for a refill.

  Trent obliged me, holding his cup between his hands and watched me. Eyes smoldering and hooded.

  The look was enough to melt me. My scalp tingled and my heart raced. But when my lips went numb and my fingertips began to tingle, I knew something was wrong.

  When I brought my hand up in front of my face, there was a blurry outline like a second hand.

  “It works fast, but doesn’t last long,” Trent said, tilting his own cup and looking down into it.

  “You…”

  “Do you love him?” he asked.

  “Who?” I dropped the empty cup in my lap. The plastic was too heavy for me to keep hold of. “You drugged me.”

  “Don’t worry. There’s no lasting side effects,” he said.

  I put my hand to my head, feeling the room wobble.

  Trent’s hands guided me down so I lay on my side, facing him. Disorientation rolled over me in waves.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Why what?”

  “Why did you leave me and let me think you were dead?”

  He shrugged and asked again, “Do you love him?”

  “Do I love who?”

  “The man I killed. Do you… did you love him?”

  Josh’s face flashed between us. Moments played out in front of me. The last ending with the look on his face as he’d said his vows.

  “I think I do,” I answered, unable to stop myself from telling the truth. What did it matter anyway? Truth, lie… they were all the same. They were all different. A lie led to the truth. The truth led to a lie, and they both met at the fork of a river where words washed over stone to be cleansed enough to speak again.

  I was the rocks. The water washed over me. Words bubbled around me, and I gave them back. There was another rock beside me. It, too, spoke, saying words only I could understand and in turn could understand me.

  There were birds screeching in the trees and the other rock didn’t like the noise. It bellowed a string of words not meant for my understanding so I ignored them and watched the watery world rush over me.

  The river shifted. Thinned. What was once soft sand, turned to jagged shards that moved beneath me. They prodded and pushed, trying to lift me from my peaceful resting place. Until all at once I emerged from the river and in a blinding flash, no longer part of that world.

  “Izzy! Izzy! Wake up!”

  “Ally?”

  I came back to a high-def reality. The tittering birds weren’t birds at all. They were voices. Female voices. And what I’d thought was my companion rock had been Trent.

  I didn’t have a chance to sit up on my own because Allyson yanked me up and wrapped her arms around me.

  “Izzy, what the hell is going on?” she asked, hissing the question close to my ear.

  CHAPTER 31

  JOSH

  Oliver spoke rapid-fire Spanish to someone on the other end of the phone as I tapped my fingers nervously against the windowsill.

  The body, or what was once a body, had given us no clues. I hadn’t really expected it to. We were just fortunate enough that the man’s head was still attached.

  Oliver had taken a picture, which seemed gruesome under the circumstances, all the while talking to a man in a white lab coat. The only word I picked up at all was dinero. Money. And they’d both said it which meant that either the guy in the lab coat was asking for it, or Oliver was offering it.

  They shook hands not long after, and Oliver motioned me to follow him. His contact sat outside the building, pipe in hand as he looked about as if enjoying the blinding sun. When he saw us, he tipped the pipe in our direction and walked away.

  Oliver’s hand came down on my shoulder with a jarring thump as he spoke louder than normal. “Cerveza, mi amigo.”

  We didn’t walk far before Oliver ducked inside a cantina that looked like the Cuban equivalent to what I thought of as a knife and gun club. The patrons, sketchy at best, cast a glance over their drinks, eyeing us like fresh meat until Oliver knocked on the bar top,
calling the bartender to us like a magnet.

  A few words were exchanged, and the bartender walked off.

  Keeping silent had never been so hard. If it had at least been English, I would have had some idea what was going on.

  It wasn’t long before the bartender was back. He gave Oliver a slight nod, and then moved down the bar.

  Oliver nudged me, eyes cutting to the door as if to say, “We’re leaving.”

  I followed him out, keeping step with him as we rounded the building and came to a stop next to a door. He rapped twice on it and it swung open. When it closed behind us, Oliver led us around stacked crates to the furthest corner of the room.

  His contact sat on an overturned keg, puffing away on his pipe.

  “It’s done,” the man said, startling me.

  “Send this in and have the results from the coroner sent to me as soon as possible,” Oliver said, handing the man a card and the plastic sleeves containing one single hair and the flakes of dried blood. “The money will be transferred when I have the information. The sooner, the better.”

  His contact nodded once, slipping the card and plastic sleeves into his shirt pocket.

  “Provisions and extra fuel are taken care of. Via con Dios, mi amigo,” he said, saluting Oliver with his pipe as he stood.

  “The Dominican Republic?” I asked, wondering why of all places we’d set up some sort of base camp there.

  “I have another contact there,” Oliver answered.

  “And…?” I prodded.

  He hadn’t told me much of what was said. Only that we got what we’d gone for. Which seemed like nothing at all considering the only thing I knew we’d had was the picture of a rotting dead man.