Fragmented

by Stephanie Tyler

  Jem’s shrugged and said, “I’ve got no other choice,” which really didn’t answer her question, even though it kind of did. “Look, I’d love to put you someplace where you’d be completely out of danger. But the only ones I trust to do that are Carolina or the rest of my team, so those are not options at the moment.”

  “There’s no place that’s completely dangerfree,” she noted.

  He snorted.

  She continued. “After the last mission that went bad, what was the plan? Was I going to stay with you and with Section 8?”

  “We never really got that far,” he admitted. “While we prepared you to help us with that particular mission, well, that’s when we found out that the feds were after you. I told you that I had someone who could make you new credentials for your medical license. Sure, it would be forged, but it’s not like you didn’t have the actual credentials—you just couldn’t use them.”

  “If the mission had gone off as planned, and I wanted to stay with you, would you have let me?”

  He slid a glance her way. “Yes, Andrea, I would’ve. I wanted you to. But hell, I wanted it to be your decision, not one you made because you were scared of who was on your tail.”

  That was all she needed to hear. “Carolina worked with me on a lot more than just getting my memories back, you know.”

  Jem’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “I pretty much figured that. Carolina thinks every woman should know how to shoot, build a bomb and fly a plane—among other things.”

  “Everything she taught me should come in really handy.”

  “You’re coming along on this mission, but you’re not actually working the mission.”

  “I’m not just going to sit around like deadweight and watch you guys, okay?”

  “You might’ve done some training with Carolina, but that doesn’t make you a commando.” He paused. “I get it—you’ve got that do-no-harm oath. That’s going to make this difficult for you.”

  Was it hard for her to do harm to bad people? When all was said and done, she realized that she could make a logical separation between her job as a medical professional and her job as a survivor.

  She also realized that she was way more logical than Jem. “That man I killed at Carolina’s? He deserved it.”

  “Not saying he didn’t. But I also know it can affect people unexpectedly.”

  She leveled him with a look. “Projecting?”

  “Just checking.”

  “Jem, I took a do-no-harm oath, but I know the difference between good and bad and right and wrong. If that guy wasn’t shooting at me and I found him hurt, it would be do no harm. Do you know how many opportunities I’ve had to kill MC members? I’ve literally had their lives in my hands. It wasn’t fear that kept me from doing it, trust me. And those men wouldn’t have blamed me—they don’t know enough.”

  “Wouldn’t want to be on your bad side.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. And please, let’s remember, I was in the Army. I trained to be a doctor on the battlefield.”

  “Did you ever get any practice?”

  “How did I do on that mission?” she asked, because even though she knew it would hurt Jem to tell her, she needed to know if she was as good under pressure as she seemed to be.

  “You were good.” His tone was gruff, almost grudging. “What happened to you wasn’t anything that was your fault. We tried to cover you as much as we could, but in the end the guy just had more information.”

  “So I didn’t give anything away?”

  “You were pretty much perfect,” he admitted, and she sighed, mainly with relief. “But doing that is a lot different than this job. We’re going into hostile territory, and if you hold us back, we could all die.”

  Carolina had told Drea that she could always count on Jem to be blunt—brutally so, it appeared—and this was absolutely no exception. She threaded her hands together and realized that he was right. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t watch and learn and be there to give them medical assistance. She could provide backup just fine. “Do I get to know where this mission is happening, at least?”

  “You’ll know soon enough.” He pointed to the airport sign up ahead. “We’ve got a plane waiting for us.”

  Chapter Nine

  The plane turned out to be a small private jet that would take her and Jem back to meet with the others, who were staying at the nearest tourist island in the vicinity of the private one they were staking out.

  They were waiting on Jem to come back, because once again, she’d taken him away from something important. Which she knew was a ridiculous way to feel, based on everything that had happened to her because of S8, but Jem was right. Knowing and remembering were two entirely different things. Not remembering made her dispassionate about exactly how much danger she’d been in.

  Now, being in danger from Danny, on the other hand? That was a drilled-in memory at this point, and it made her gut ache to think about it.

  “Why do you suddenly look so worried?” Jem asked, handing her a soda, then sliding into the seat across from her. He ignored the pilot’s pleas to put his seat belt on, instead throwing his booted feet up on the seat next to her and slouching in his. While he reclined it. Which was also against the rules.

  “Aren’t you going to follow directions?”

  “No.”

  “But the pilot—”

  “He knows me. Come on, Kelsey—leave me the fuck alone,” he called out.

  Over the loudspeaker, Kelsey’s deep voice boomed, “Bite me, Jem.”

  Drea laughed—she couldn’t help it—and Jem snorted. “That’s better. I like it when you laugh.”

  She did too, but that didn’t mean she’d forgotten what was bothering her. “The girl you’re trying to save …”

  He gave her a small shake of his head. “We wouldn’t have been able to grab her until this week. We had to change our plans, based on new intel. The kidnappers were watching her the entire time. That’s all I would’ve been doing. Trust me—if anything happens to her, it’s on the kidnappers, not you.”

  Yeah, but what was he going to say—it’s all your fault if the girl ends up dead? She scolded herself for even thinking so negatively. “How long’s the flight?”

  “About six hours, give or take some wind shear.” Jem’s eyes were piercing through her.

  “I take it Kelsey was in the military?”

  Jem nodded. “Army chopper pilot. If he can fly those, this is nothing.”

  Having ridden in both, she had to agree. “And you were in the military as well.”

  “Do I seem like the military type to you?”

  “Absolutely not.” She reconsidered. “Then again, look at the people I hang out with.”

  Jem laughed. “True. Compared to some of the MC members, I’m probably the perfect military poster boy.”

  “Were you in trouble all the time?”

  “I’ve been in trouble since I was in the womb. It follows me and I create it in kind. At least I have fun.”

  “I’d like the time for some fun,” she said quietly. “And that’s not something for you to feel guilty about.”

  “We’ve got no one here to bother us. And a microwave. And some board games.” He looked around. “Oh, and a parachute.”

  “I’m not jumping out of a plane with you.”

  “Well, maybe not today, but eventually you will.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because it’s fun.” Jem gave her a “duh!” look. “Okay, fine, no parachute jumping on our date.”

  “Date?”

  “Yes.”

  “Date as in … date?”

  “That’s a foreign concept to you?”

  “Actually, yes. Unless you count what I did with Danny from high school as dating, which I don’t. And after that, I was being watched so much that even dinner and a movie with a girlfriend became a major feat. I became a loner.” And really good friends with my vibrator.

  Jem studied her in that way he
had where she felt that he could see right through her. She hated it, but she also relished it at the same time. Danny had never wanted to get to know her—he’d simply wanted her to be exactly what he wanted her to be. The fact that she’d gone into the Army and then became a doctor annoyed him, but he turned it into something convenient for his uses. “Did you have a lot of time to date when you were in the CIA?”

  “Not really. But I was never big on one-night stands.” Jem looked up at the ceiling and then back down. “Sorry—I was waiting for lightning to strike me dead. Okay, I did have a lot of one-night stands, but I always took them to dinner first. Or bought them breakfast or—”

  Drea held up a hand. “I don’t think I want to hear any of this.”

  Jem drew a deep breath and started again. “Right. Anyway, this is a date,” he said stubbornly.

  “Jem …”

  Jem motioned to the table behind them. “Right now. Right here.”

  “We can’t have a date on a plane,” she protested.

  “Why not?” Jem demanded. “What’s your idea of the perfect date?”

  She honestly had no idea. “It’s definitely not hurtling toward earth with a parachute strapped to my back.”

  “I’ll have you know the parachute would definitely not be strapped to your back. You would be struck to me and the parachute would be strapped to me as well.” Jem sat back as if that made everything so much better.

  “You do realize that when people date, they tell each other things. They talk about their past, their family.” She watched Jem blanch.

  “That doesn’t happen in the movies,” Jem said.

  She stood. “So, yes, a date sounds like a great idea. I’ll just wait at the table and let you bring me some food and then we can discuss your life.”

  She bit back a laugh at Jem’s horrified expression. He totally deserved this. She simply sat at the table, tapped her fingers and waited. Jem wasn’t one to back down from a challenge and he was up, foraging in the small galley kitchen for food. He brought out two dinners that looked semiappetizing, and some warm cookies that looked much better. He had bottles of water tucked under his arm, which he set down on the table.

  Finally, he sat across from her. “Okay, it’s only fair. I know a hell of a lot about you and you don’t know a lot about me.”

  “How do you know Carolina didn’t tell me everything?”

  Jem shook his head slowly. “She wouldn’t do that. Just the way you wouldn’t.”

  She had to give him that. “I’ll tell you what I do know. You have a younger brother who was in the Army. You were in the CIA and now you’re a member of Section 8. And everyone who talks about you says you’re crazy.”

  He grinned a little and God, he was handsome, really and truly. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing muscled forearms, dusted lightly with dark hair. And his hands … they were big. She couldn’t help remembering what they felt like on her skin. What his mouth felt like on her—

  “I hated the military—I was in the Army before I rolled into the CIA.” Jem thankfully broke into her thoughts. “I don’t follow rules well, as you can see, but I was good. They make exceptions for guys like me. They say they don’t, because you couldn’t have too many of me in one place.”

  There was no boasting tone in his voice—he was just relaying simple truths that weren’t very simple at all. It made her like him even more. “When did you go into the Army?”

  “I’d just turned seventeen. Got my daddy’s permission, went to the recruiting office and they signed me right up. I didn’t even go back home.” He closed his eyes at the end of what he was saying, like he was trying to erase whatever memory flashed at that moment.

  And she immediately relented in her earlier demand for information in exchange for the date. Because wanting to be on a date with her was actually very sweet. “Jem, we don’t have to do this. You know all about me for different reasons. For safety reasons. But there’s a big difference between safety and delving into your personal life for fun.”

  “Is that why you’re doing this? For fun?” There was an edge to his voice and she stood and walked over to him and put her hands on his cheeks, and he tilted his face up to hers.

  “I never want to hurt you, okay? I want you to know that.” His expression softened at her words. His hands went to her hips and he tugged her down so she was half straddling his lap. She ran her hands through his hair as he began to talk, glossing over his boyhood. There was some happiness, a lot of abuse and still so much pain in his voice when he spoke of it. He also didn’t—couldn’t—say much about the military or the CIA, just told her that the missions were classified, dangerous and that he was considered a deadly weapon.

  “I slept around, like I said. There was never anyone special. Never anyone I wanted to be special. Until you.” Jem stared at her and she did feel like the most special woman in the world at that moment, the way Jem always seemed to make her feel when she was in his presence.

  “Thank you,” was all she could think of to say. It made him smile, though.

  “I’ll take you on a real date when this is over—I promise.”

  “This feels very real to me, Jem.”

  “Thanks.”

  “How about I cook for you when this is all done?” His eyes widened when she said that. “I guess we have a deal.”

  “Yeah, we’ve definitely got a deal.” He stared up at her. “I guess we need to find a place that has a stove first.”

  “That would help.” The reminder of how transient they both were didn’t make her feel bad. It made her realize that they could build something together, if things worked out, if the sun and moon and planets aligned the way they were supposed to. If everything went perfectly.

  Maybe for once in her life she really did deserve perfect. And when she told Jem that, he threw his head back and gave that deep belly laugh she’d grown to love. “Honey, if you’re equating me with perfect, then maybe we really do belong together. A pair of crazies.”

  “A pair of crazies,” she murmured. She put her forehead to his, their lips close, but he didn’t make a move. His hands tightened on her hips slightly, and his breath hitched. Finally, she pressed her lips to his, gently at first, and then not so gently. His tongue stroked the seam of her mouth until she opened it and let him in.

  This could go all the way if she let it, and she wanted to let it, but then turbulence rocked the plane and Kelsey wanted them back in their seats and Jem carried her there, put her seat belt on. Murmured, “I’m going to keep you safe.”

  She believed him.

  Chapter Ten

  At three in the morning, Ethan Welles wasn’t looking for anything more than a cold drink and an orgasm, not necessarily in that order, and neither one had anything to do with a mission.

  Beyond a personal one, at least. Not that he hadn’t gone looking for one—or both—for a mission in the past, but he was taking tonight off from watching Section 8’s spectacular exploits, getting drunk and taking someone home to fuck.

  The island was the least touristy, but the club was mainly made up of vacationers, with a few locals, mainly businessmen … and men like him. Although he’d retired from two organizations, it didn’t mean his status as an operative had ended. And he’d frequented scenes like this before—this club, like so many others like it, required anonymity. Don’t ask, don’t tell meant so much more here—no names, professions, nothing but pure pleasure—and that had always suited him.

  Nothing here to bite you in the ass … unless you wanted it to.

  He’d gotten here late—in several hours, the sun would rise, killing the party mood—but for the moment, everyone was in full swing.

  Ethan did several shots in a row at the bar, then took his vodka tonic with him as he walked through the place, the familiar sensation of drink and arousal buzzing through him. He was cruising, glancing at the available men without making much eye contact. Not until the tall blond guy brushed past him, then stopped to look back over his sh
oulder at Ethan and smiled, and his smile was fucking brilliant.

  And then he nodded and Ethan nodded back, followed next to him, a hand on the small of the man’s back. At one point, on the edge of the dance floor, they turned into each other. The guy swung an easy arm around Ethan’s shoulders and Ethan took a long swig from his drink, then put the glass to the other man’s lips.

  It didn’t matter that they were both drunk and looking for one thing only. Didn’t matter that they didn’t exchange names and they definitely wouldn’t exchange numbers.

  It only mattered that the guy pressed against him on the dark fringes of the dance floor, and they weren’t so much dancing as swaying to the heavy beat, pelvis to pelvis, both sticky with sweat and spilled drinks.

  The guy pressed a kiss along the side of his neck, then nipped him hard before drawling, “Yeah, that’s the spot,” when Ethan jolted.

  “Definitely the spot,” Ethan murmured back, holding the man’s belt loops. They were just about the same height, with the blond man only an easy inch or so taller. The music shifted to a slower, still-pounding beat and Ethan cupped his hand around the back of the man’s neck and brought his mouth down on the other man’s to an immediate response.

  The grip on Ethan tightened, and the man groaned into his mouth, the vibration somehow on a direct line to Ethan’s cock and oh, fuck, this was perfect.

  Hot need flooded through him—he wanted more skin … more of everything from this guy. “My place.”

  “Can’t,” the man murmured, and Ethan wasn’t going down without a fight. Or without something. He tugged the guy to a more private, dark corner along the wall, where other men were doing exactly what he planned to. In a swift motion, he had his own pants—and the other man’s—unzipped, and he was fisting both their cocks together.

  “Yeah, fuck—just like that,” the guy drawled, kissed him hard as Ethan’s palm worked fast. The guy groaned into his mouth, a strong hand gripped his shoulders and fuck …

  He ripped his mouth away, panted, “Want to be inside you,” against the man’s ear. But it didn’t matter—neither of them was going to last. Ethan’s balls tightened and the two shot nearly in tandem, with the guy half collapsing against his shoulder.