by Diana Gardin
Jacob’s boots thud down the polished concrete floors as he strides down the hallway. When he appears in my office door, his usual stoic expression is set firmly in place, but his eyes soften when they land on me. Worry and fear and concern live there in his gaze.
“Sayward. Are you okay?”
I glance down at myself. Why does everyone keep asking me that? “I’m not hurt.”
He nods, his lips twitching. “I know that, Sayward. I wasn’t referring to your physical condition.”
I stand, walking toward the printer. “I’ve created a file on Pablo Suarez.”
I can feel Jacob’s eyes on me as I place the papers neatly into a manila folder, just the way he likes.
“And we have information on the location of the cartel.” Bennett’s voice rumbles from the doorway, and I turn to face him.
My stomach floods with warmth, pulling me toward him like tide meets sand. He pulls me in like the need to touch me is more than he can take, and his lips land on top of my head as he inhales. “Hey.”
I tilt my face and look up at him, unaware that there’s anyone else in the room. “Hey.”
He holds my gaze for a moment saying a million things that only I can understand, before lifting his gaze to Jacob over my head. “Ronin’s good at what he does.”
Ronin chuckles darkly from the doorway. “Thanks. You ready for information, Boss Man?”
Jacob nods. “You get much more than location?”
Ronin shakes his head. “He doesn’t know much. Seems Suarez doesn’t freely show all his cards to the lower rungs on the ladder. But yeah, he knows where they’re staying. Best we get there before they move. Also, he knows that Suarez wants Sayward, they were instructed not to kill her on sight. The men who first shot at her on the sidewalk and then came for her in the hotel? They weren’t going for a kill shot.”
I stiffen and try to pull back from Bennett, but his arm tightens around me.
Ronin glances around the room before his green eyes land on me. Finally he dips his chin in a solemn nod. “Viper. He wants you dead. But he wants to make a production out of it. Make an example of you. Wants to bring you back to Colombia and…”
My heart thuds against its cage, a panicked bird trying frantically to fly far, far away. I almost feel the target on my back, and it burns like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
My story has never been a secret; I’ve always known about the cartel. But I’ve felt safe, living in an obscure town like Wilmington, North Carolina. Hacking came naturally to me, and I used it as a defensive weapon, a way to make sure I’m not found by anyone who might be looking. I’ve erased any trace of my whereabouts online, keeping my digital footprint nonexistent for my own protection. I use cash, not credit, and I was fortunate enough to find a landlord who doesn’t ask questions about things like that. With a protector like Jacob watching over me, and my shell built up around me, the fear that settled into me after that night seeped away.
Until now.
Now, terror slithers all over me, into my veins like a virus, spreading and growing until I can hardly contain it inside me.
“What if they get to me?” My voice is hoarse. I clear my throat and try again. “What if they hurt all of you to find me?” My breath comes fast, too fast. The room starts to spin as darkness encroaches at the sides of my vision. Just the thought of that happening to any of these men who’ve done nothing but support me is enough to bring on another panic attack.
The cartel takes lives. I don’t want to be responsible for any more death. I can’t be.
Oh, God. I’ll lose it if I have to bury any one of these men.
And then I think about Bennett being the one to take a bullet for me. He signed up for it, put himself on the line voluntarily, but it doesn’t matter.
I don’t want to lose any of them, but I especially can’t bear the thought of losing him.
Bennett turns me in his arms, strong hands landing on my shoulders. He dips his head so that he can look directly into my eyes. “Don’t go there, beautiful. That’s not gonna happen. You hear me?”
But I can’t hear him. I’m too busy losing little pieces of myself to the paralyzing fear. In the back of my mind, I realize he thinks I’m scared for myself.
“Blacke.” Jacob’s voice is a commanding bark no one ever dares ignore. Bennett’s eyes flick toward him. “Get her out of here. Your job is to keep her safe, and she doesn’t need to be here for this. I’ll keep you updated, but it’s past midnight and she needs to rest. We’ll be moving in on them within the hour.”
Nodding, Bennett doesn’t hesitate before he’s moving with me, out of the office and placing me into his truck. I take deep gulps of the salty, damp night air and don’t register the fact that we’ve left until Bennett turns over his big truck’s engine.
“We’re leaving?” My voice, usually so controlled, is startled. “Why?”
He takes my hand, his words nothing but a gentle caress. “They don’t need us for this, baby. I want to get you home.”
I rest my head against the back of my seat. Home. I test the word in my head, trying it on to see if it fits. To me, my tiny little apartment is home. I’m at home in front of my computer. I’m at home when I’m with Jacob. And that’s about it. But when Bennett says it, home isn’t just a feeling or a place. It’s a living, breathing thing with a soul. It sounds so right, but I hesitate.
Can I trust it? Whatever Bennett is offering me, all I want to do is reach out and grab it. Hold on tight and never let go.
But a small part of me is terrified that if I do, my carefully guarded heart, free for the first time in my life, will never recover.
No. You can trust Bennett. The tiny voice inside me reminds me that I didn’t give my body to this man lightly. He’s protected me, he’s made me feel things I never thought were possible.
He’s earned my trust.
By the time he pulls into the small parking pad in front of his house, I’m done debating. Whatever Bennett Blacke is offering, I’m going to take it. I place my hand in his, and he squeezes gently, reminding me that beside him is exactly where I need to be. Maybe it’s crazy to feel this way after such a short time, but it doesn’t change the fact that I do.
“Bennett.”
The clear, melodic voice seems to be floating from a dream. I glance around in confusion, searching for it. Beside me Bennett is as still as a statue frozen, his hand turning to ice in mine. Dropping my fingers from his grasp, his steps stutter to a stop as his voice scrapes up from his throat.
“Valarie?”
The woman steps into the circle of light from the rustic-looking lantern over his front door. For the first time maybe ever, my attention is immediately drawn to her beauty. Familiarity tugs in my brain, but I can’t place where I’ve seen her before, or heard her name. Long, silver-blond hair, lifting delicately in the breeze rolling in off the ocean. Lithe, willowy limbs on a tall, thin model’s frame. Whoever she is, I’m immediately comparing myself to her, and we’re as different as two people can be. She’s all light where I’m all dark, all tall where I’m not, long and lean where I’m curved and soft. And she’s definitely not dressed in jeans and a hoodie—her long legs go on for miles under a short, chic dress.
She steps forward, her eyes running over me from head to toe before she focuses her total attention on Bennett. He shoves his hands in his pockets, and I drop my gaze, finding it impossible to make eye contact with this stranger. It’s even more impossible to keep my eyes on Bennett. Every single awkward moment I’ve ever had in my life, every single one of them out of my control, suddenly feel insignificant compared to this.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he grinds out through clenched teeth.
But he takes a step toward her. Like he’s drawn, even though he doesn’t want to be.
The blood running through my veins, pumping oxygen to my heart and rational thoughts to my brain…it stops functioning altogether.
She smiles, tilting her head to o
ne side the way I’ve seen women do so many times before. “You might be ex-Special Forces, babe, but you’re not the only one with resources. It took me awhile to find you, but I never would have stopped trying.”
She glances at me again, her smile faltering just a tiny bit, before tucking a strand of her perfect hair behind her ear. “Plus, I’m your wife. Where else should I be?”
His wife.
When I researched Bennett for the team at NES, I came across her name and her photo in my search. It’s why she looks familiar.
My stomach heaves, a sickening roll of my belly that has me reaching for Bennett’s keys. Plucking them from his hand, I flee. Brushing past the woman standing on the front walkway, I unlock the door and let myself into the house.
All before the first tear rolls down my cheek.
As soon as I’m inside, I pull out my phone. I don’t know where I’m going to go, but I know I have to get the hell out of here.
I text Marcos.
I need to see you. Can you meet me?
The three little dots that indicate he’s typing back appear immediately.
Yes. I’m staying at a different hotel. Meet me here. There’s a bar downstairs.
My fingers fly across the keys even as everything inside me goes numb.
I’ll meet you there.
Pulling up my car service app, I note that there’s a car just a couple of minutes away. I arrange to meet it about a block away. I know I’ll be safe with Marcos. He’s my brother and he’ll protect me. And I know that the NES team will take the cartel down soon, anyway. I need to be as far away from Bennett and his wife as possible right now.
Shouldn’t be too hard to sneak away from him, now that he’s distracted, right?
My stomach rolls again as I slip my phone back into my pocket. Brushing away the tears, I bark out a laugh. There’s no way I’m going to wait around for him to ask me to leave. Guilt tugs at me, knowing he wouldn’t do that. But I don’t want to wait for him to close himself into a room with her so they can talk it out, either. I’ll never put myself through that kind of humiliation.
Bennett Blacke held your heart in his hands, and look what he did with it. All it took was for her to walk back into his life.
Determination overwhelms me, even as tears threaten to crush me completely. I swallow down the lump climbing up my throat and wrap my arms around my stomach to hold myself together.
I can do this. I’ll just have to be stronger than my first heartbreak.
22
Bennett
My head spins, but I snap right back to the here and now and what’s most important as soon as Sayward disappears into the house.
Fuck. Fuck!
Raking an agitated hand through my hair, I shoot a stony stare at Valarie. “Ex-wife. I don’t know what the fuck kind of game you’re running right now, Valarie. But I have zero time for this shit.”
My movements feel stiff as I walk past her, but she reaches out and grabs my arm to stop me. “You never let me explain, Bennett. We still have things to say to each other. I’d like us to give our marriage another try.”
Her voice, sweet and soft, used to hit me someplace deep inside. It would stop me from doing anything, at any time. And yeah, maybe even a month ago that still would have happened. Maybe I still would have been willing to hear her out. Even after everything that happened, and after all this time.
But that was before Sayward happened. Before she rolled into my life like a feisty little hurricane. Before she completely fucked me up in the head and wore me out in the bed.
Now? Valarie’s voice does nothing for me. Nothing to me. I can’t even look at her, because when I do all I see is my past.
This woman won’t even have a single minute of my future.
I pull my arm out of her grasp.
“No, Val. Go home.” I keep walking, straight through my front door, and close it behind me.
I never look back at Valarie…not once.
Searching my small living room for Sayward, I don’t see her and my eyes close momentarily. She’s not waiting for me here. I can’t imagine what the hell she must be thinking. I’d dropped her hand when I’d seen Val, but that was because I was shocked as all fuck. Nothing about Valarie could have dragged me away from Sayward. Not now.
So the first thing you need to do is tell her that.
Heading for the one and only bedroom in my house, I open my mouth in preparation of seeing her, ready to explain.
She isn’t here.
The room’s empty.
Dread sinks into my gut, spreading like an oil spill. I spin around, checking the limited space like I’m expecting her to jump out of the closet or from under the bed.
No, no, no. Please…no.
Thinking—no, hoping—that she’d just gone out back for some air, I head over to the slider that takes up half the back wall and step outside. The nearby crashing of waves against sand mocks me, calling attention to the fact that she’s. Not. Here.
Knowing that my Rescue Ops team is busy preparing to bring down Suarez and his crew is minimally comforting. At least they’ll get to him before he gets to her.
Where the fuck would she go?
Guilt gnaws at me, reminding me that it’s my fault she’s not with me right now. I should have known…I should have told her exactly what she meant to me so that when fucking Valarie showed up she wouldn’t have questioned it. But instead…she’d taken the fact that I’d been too goddamned shocked to react at first to mean I didn’t want her.
Fuck.
She’s run away. From me.
Turning, I stalk back into the house, grab my keys off their hook, and slam the door behind me. Climbing into my truck, I pull out my cell phone. There’s a text from Jacob. He details the time and a sketch of the war plan. They’ll send the team out to the corporate housing complex in the next twenty minutes. They have a plan for entry and extraction, and a strategy for making sure the citizens in the complex remain safe. Teague will be on the coms during the op, the place Sayward would normally be. But his nickname, “Brains,” isn’t bullshit. He knows what the fuck he’s doing.
I type out a quick text to Jacob. The last thing I want to do is distract the team from the op they’re about to run. I can handle this. I can get Sayward back.
Where did you relocate Marcos?
He answers after only a minute with the name of the new hotel. I start the truck’s engine and head out. As the truck bears down on the Wilmington roads, dark and wide open at this time of night, I send up a prayer.
Let me find her, fast. And let me have the right words to explain my fuckup. I want her back in my arms.
I walk into the hotel lobby. When the woman behind the counter opens her mouth to greet me, I silence her with a photograph. “Have you seen this woman here tonight?”
She closes her mouth and peers closely at the photo of Sayward. It’s one I snapped of her on my phone. She was lying in my bed, her face turned toward me, the most peaceful look on her face I’d ever seen. Her head rested on her elbow, and there was something in her eyes I hadn’t been willing to see there before.
I see it now.
She’s looking at the camera—no, at me—with adoration in her gaze. Maybe even…love.
The woman taps a finger on her lip. “Yes…she stopped by the desk when she came in. I noticed her ’cuz she’s so pretty. She headed to the bar over there.” She gestures toward the neon blue sign with the bar’s name scrawled out in script over the entrance.
I put my phone away. “Thanks.”
When I enter the small hotel bar, I scan it once without seeing Sayward anywhere. My heart sinks like a damn stone, but I head over to the bartender anyway. Flashing him Sayward’s photo, I ask him the same question I’d asked the woman in the lobby.
He lifts his chin. “You a cop?” His tone is casual, and he continues pouring amber liquid into a highball glass.
I aim my gaze at the glass. “You didn’t put enough Fernet-Branca in that
highball glass. If you’re making a Hanky Panky, you need more or it’s gonna turn out sour as fuck.”
When the bartender’s brows shoot up and he eyes the glass with sudden doubt in his skills, I lift a shoulder. “I’m a bartender, not a cop. And trust me on the drink.”
Eyeing me, he pulls out the rare whiskey and pours in another finger before sliding the glass to a lonely, obviously rich, old lady at the end. When he returns, he folds his arms and leans forward. “Your girl was here.”
I sit up straighter, my body going tense. “Where is she now?”
He looks toward the entrance of the bar before his gaze strays back to mine. “The man she was with? I overheard them talking. He wanted her to leave with him. She seemed reluctant, but she ended up going. Heard him speak into his phone when she went to the bathroom. Said they were headed to Jefferson Airport.”
Every piece of information the bartender hands over hits me like a fucking bullet. It’s all important, but it’s not what I expected. When I got here, I thought Sayward would still be here. The fact that she’d run straight to Marcos wasn’t hard to figure out. With Jacob out of commission, and with her no longer needing to run, thanks to the fact that the Rescue Ops team was preparing to take down Suarez’s team, she had nowhere else to go. But why the fuck would Marcos want her to leave Wilmington with him now? When the service for her father isn’t until next week?
And why would Sayward agree to go with him?
The answer to the last question’s easy. Because she trusts him. He’s her brother.
And, yeah, maybe she thinks she can put her faith in him. But my feelings about the dude have been wary as fuck since I’d met him.
I don’t trust him. Not in the fucking slightest. Tossing a folded bill on the bar for the bartender’s trouble, I don’t waste any time hauling ass back to the truck.
