I nodded, no energy left.
“She’s all yours. Put her in the chair to get back. She’s not going to make it on the walker.” Amy slapped a hand on my shoulder, squeezing, before turning to another patient.
He helped me up and began to wheel me towards the bathroom area. A nurse stood waiting.
“Good workout?”
I nodded too exhausted to speak.
“She’s wrecked. Doubt she’ll be able to stand today.” This came from Luc.
“Don’t worry,” the nurse said cheerfully, “We’ll get her cleaned up.”
Twenty minutes later, showered and dressed in stretchy pyjamas, my wheelchair handed off to Luc with a happy goodbye from the nurse.
Back in the apartment, the girls bustled about, dropping grocery bags and setting about cooking dinner. Addie ordered me to take a nap while they entertained themselves. I let Luc wheel me down the corridor and into the bedroom.
“Do you need a hand?”
I shook my head, bracing. It took me an agonizingly long time to stand, turn, then sit on the bed. I slowly swung my legs up and in, reaching for the blanket. Once settled, I looked up at Luc. In the time it had taken for me to get into bed, he’d returned with water and pills.
We didn’t speak as I reached for them. Tossing my head back I swallowed with a gulp of water. He whisked the glass from my hand setting it on the bedside table.
I closed my eyes, every part of me throbbing in pain.
The bed dipped, a hand on my hair, gently brushing it away from my cheek.
“You did good today,” he whispered, tracing the apple of my cheek.
I nodded, eyes still closed.
“It’s gonna take time, Em. Don’t beat yourself up.”
I don’t have time.
Tears I’d been fighting burned my eyelids.
“Dr. CJ said–”
“I know,” I interrupted him quietly, curling into myself slightly. “I know, Luc. I get it. It’s a matter of time.” I blew out a shaky breath before looking up at him. “I have to tell you something.”
“After you nap. I’ll be in the lounge room chilling till you wake.”
I fought back the warm feeling that settled in my belly every time he tried to take care of me.
“No.” I shook my head firmly. “Now.” I pulled in a breath.
“I’m leaving.”
His lips tugged up into a smile. “We’ve already been through this. In a few weeks you can–”
“I mean after this. Once I’m recovered. Consider this my notice. I’m leaving Canberra.”
He turned to stone.
I struggled up, sitting on the edge of the bed beside him. “Luc–”
“Why?”
“It’s time.”
He turned, pinning me with a glare. “Is this because of the shooting?”
“No. Yes. No. I planned to resign before this.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s time.”
He pushed off the bed, standing to pace. “What does that even mean?”
“I just need a change.”
“I didn’t know you were unhappy.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You never said anything.”
I’m not.
I shrugged.
“Where are you going?”
The lie fell easily from my lips. “London. I got a job offer and–”
“A job offer? Who?”
“A start-up. No one you know.”
“So that’s it. You’re just leaving?” For a moment his blue eyes raked my face, searching for… something.
“Yes.”
“Right.” He turned abruptly. “Sleep well.”
I waited, listening to him speak to the girls briefly before I heard the apartment door open and close.
It didn’t reopen.
I let the tears come.
Chapter Eleven
Emmie
Luc hadn’t come around for a week. I had no idea where he was, what he was doing, or if he would return.
Dr. CJ had told me I’d made good progress and agreed to sign off on me trying more complex physio. We’d started therapy on my bad leg, and I’d progressed to ten minutes of walking (though still stop-start). Amy had agreed I’d be able to upgrade to a walking stick soon. But for now, I zoomed about with my walker.
I miss Luc.
I shushed the voice, knowing that path led to poor choices. Once healed, I’d work my month while they found a replacement and then take off.
I was the queen of the quick getaway, getting closer to Luc would be a mistake.
He was a stayer. I ran.
Luc was a keeper. I was disposable.
This option kept us both safe.
The reminders didn’t stop the pain I pretended didn’t exist.
“Emmie?”
I blinked, looking at Jarrett. “Sorry?”
His gaze sharp, his wise eyes knowing, he sighed. “I said I’ve got an update, if you’re interested.”
I nodded. “Sure. I mean, of course.”
I got what Jarrett dished out. This was his way of giving me an update on the investigation.
Following my release from hospital, I’d finally been briefed. The investigation into the shooting had ramped up. We suspected it related to Jetta, but the link wasn’t yet clear. The local police were sharing info thanks to our contract with the Australian Federal Police.
The story went like this: Jetta’s sister, Courtney, had become hooked on drugs. She’d gone in deep and now owed a large debt to a dealer by the name of Simon Esso. Esso had also been Jetta’s dad’s dealer back in the day. Turned out Esso had been sitting on the fact Jetta’s dad also owed him money. Jetta’s parents had tragically died in a car accident before the debt had been settled. Esso wanted his money.
These days, Esso operated out of four states. We knew about him as we knew about most crime figures in Australia, via our connections. When you worked in our line of business, you grew to know the big players. We’d had one or two run-ins with the guy previously, and each time Paxton had swiftly dealt with it. We were a good business, above board. We didn’t deal with shady creeps.
The current working theory was the shooting had been a warning, a reminder of the stakes. But so far, the evidence didn’t necessarily reflect a direct tie back to Jetta.
The cops had found the SUV abandoned and burnt out in bushland outside of Canberra. It’d been stolen. The occupants of the car were masked and covered, no identities. A dead end.
The bullet casings were from black-market firearms. One had matched a gun used in a previous drug-related shooting that’d been linked back to Esso. But it was weak. We were at a loss, the pieces of the puzzle hidden from us.
For the guys I worked with, this was an unacceptable outcome. They were working on the case 24/7 trying to come up with answers to all the questions.
And trying to protect Jetta.
Me? I wasn’t of value to anyone. A dispensable pawn in the broader game, I’d quickly been ruled out as an innocent bystander caught in the crossfire.
“Our friend got in contact. He’s ready to come home. Plans are in place, and our friends are organising the welcome.”
I nodded. I got it. We could only say so much in an insecure environment.
Translation? Brean O’Malley, one of our agents working undercover in Esso’s organisation wanted out. He’d been under for over a year. If he was calling, it meant the situation wasn’t good. Not good at all.
“When’s the party?”
“This weekend. After Jetta’s concert.”
With Courtney in rehab, Jetta had been forced to take her place in a reunion tour headed by the former band of Jetta’s parents’. It was all very sudden and seemed a bit strange to me. But all power to Jetta for facing her fears.
It’s more than you’ve ever done.
I squashed the little voice, turning back to Jarrett.
“Maybe I could–”
“It’s okay. People understa
nd you’re unavailable.” Jarrett’s face hardened, his eyes telling me to not even think about it.
“Right.” I slumped back in my chair, playing with my teaspoon. “Does Jetta know?”
“She didn’t. She does now.”
I nodded. Paxton had told the guys to keep things on the down-low with Jetta. Apparently, he didn’t want her to worry. Personally, I thought it was a dick move. Paxton handled her with kid gloves, intentionally keeping her in the dark. Jetta was the victim here, she had every right to know about progress on the case.
“Explain to me how this concert came about?”
Jarrett shifted his weight, settling back in the chair. “Apparently her uncle, Paul White, was drummer for her dad’s band.”
“He’s a producer now, right?”
“Yeah. And he manages Courtney.”
“This was meant to be Courtney’s concert?”
“Yeah. But with her in rehab, and Paul trying to keep that on the down-low, he went back to the sponsors and pitched an alternative.”
“Jetta and her parents’ band reuniting?” I scratched absently at the healing scar on my thigh. Jarrett reached out, swatting my hand away.
“Stop scratching. But yes. It’s the ten-year anniversary of the Olivers’ deaths. White proposed a reunion tour instead of cancellation.”
“But the tickets would have already been sold to teenagers. Courtney’s not exactly targeting her parents’ demographic.”
“The tickets were refunded. But the venues are the big cash. Even with insurance, they would have lost out.”
“So, Jetta’s agreed to sing?”
“She’s headlining.”
“She any good?”
Jarrett shrugged. “No idea.”
“Well let me know how it goes.”
“Will do.” Jarrett stood, collecting our plates and cups, placing them in the dishwasher. I lifted, standing with the help of the walker.
“Thanks for coming over. I miss you guys.”
Jarrett paused by the door. “He come yet?”
I hesitated, then shook my head. “Not yet.”
“Right.” Jarrett’s face tightened.
“I’m leaving, Jarrett. He has every right to be upset. He’s losing a star employee.”
“If you think that’s the only reason he’s upset, then you’re either an idiot or he’s an ass who’s letting you think that.” Jarrett shook his head. “I’ve seen you two together. You have more chemistry than me and Ricky Martin.”
I ignored the pleasant shiver that sparked down my spine at his words. “You’ve never met Ricky Martin.”
“And if I ever did, we would make sweet explosions together.”
We both chuckled. “Go.” I shoved his arm with one hand. “Get back to work.”
He winked. “On it. Bye, baby girl.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead.
The door clicked shut leaving me with the walker and a room full of sadness.
“It’s better this way,” I reminded myself. “It’ll be easier in the long run.”
If only I could convince myself.
Chapter Twelve
Luc
The lights outside Pax’s office blinked off. I glanced at the clock, registering the late hour. The office was empty but for Pax, Jarrett, and myself. We were in Pax’s office, nursing beers, pondering the woes of the world.
“She’s driving me crazy.” Pax muttered, thumb wearing at the label of his bottle.
“Emmie?” I asked.
“No, Jetta.” He looked up, giving me a frown. “Why… no. I don’t want to know.”
“I do.” Jarrett pointed at me. “First, we’ll deal with Mister Grumpypants, then we’ll get to you.”
He tipped his bottle towards Pax. “Time to spill, Elliot.”
Pax sighed, slumping back in his chair. “Jetta is…”
“Awesome? Talented? Gorgeous? Funny? Intelligent?” Jarrett prompted.
“Yes. And confusing, difficult, fearful, different.”
“Mate.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s been ten years. Of course, the woman is going to be different. She’s grown. You’ve changed.”
Pax tapped a finger on the desk. “She’s difficult.”
“How?”
I watched him search for the words. “She… challenges me. Wants me to be someone I’m not.”
I frowned, exchanging a glance with Jarrett. “What? You mean a show pony or something?”
“No. She wants everything. No secrets, no half-truths. She wants shit I’m not sure I can give her. I’m not even sure I can be true to myself. The only way I survived the shit we went through overseas is by building walls.”
Afghanistan. Death of men I’d called brothers.
I took a long gulp of my beer.
“Do you love her?”
Pax blew out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t think I ever really stopped. And it’s fucking terrifying.”
We were all quiet for a few moments.
“Do you want a future with her?” I asked.
Pax took a long moment. “For as long as I’m here, yes.”
“Well, shit.” Jarrett huffed. “Go home and get your house in order. The girl isn’t asking a lot.”
“I don’t know how to give her the trust she’s asking for. I don’t know how to build that between us.”
“Well, having this fucking conversation with her would be a good start.” Jarrett pointed out.
Pax shoved up from the desk, heading for the door. “Shit. I gotta get home.”
I sniggered, taking a sip of my beer.
“Oh no.” Jarrett turned to me, waggling a finger in my face. “You’re next, buddy.”
“What did I do?”
“When was the last time you saw Em?”
I crossed my arms, staring Jarrett down. “When she last invited me.”
“That girl is crazy about you.”
“Bullshit. She’s leaving. She’s not interested in a–”
Jarrett held up a hand, sighing. “Goddamn straight people. Oprah, give me strength.” He focussed back on me. “Swallow your damn pride, get in your fucking car, and go speak to her. She says she’s leaving. Bitch, she hasn’t left yet. Make her want to stay.”
“She’s just been shot. The last thing she wants is me hitting on her.”
“Ru Paul, Diane Sawyer, and Freddie Fucking Mercury, give me strength!” Jarrett cursed, crossing himself. “I’m not asking you to bang her. I’m telling you to be her friend. Emmie is a woman who needs to be handled gently. Not because she’s weak or a woman, but because she’s got trust issues. She needs to be wooed.” Jarrett pointed the neck of his beer at me. “Woo her.”
I sat back, considering his words. “You’re a dick, you know that?”
“The truth always hurts.” Jarrett stood, stretching. “And now Jarrett’s relationship counselling session is over. I’m off to my tinder date. If I’m not in tomorrow, don’t call me.” He walked out, leaving me nursing a beer in Pax’s empty office.
Woo her. Be her friend. Make her want to stay.
Jarrett was right.
Fuck, I’m a prick.
I couldn’t just lay shit out the way I would with other women in my life.
Woo her. I can do that.
Chapter Thirteen
Emmie
The loud knocking on my door was obnoxiously persistent.
I hauled myself out of bed, clutching at the walker and shuffling through the apartment as quickly as I could manage.
“I’m coming!” I yelled as I hit the lounge room entrance. I wrenched open the door and backed up the walker as Luc brushed past.
“Luc?” The door snicked shut behind me, closing us in.
He came to a stop in the middle of my living room, turning to face me, a frown creasing his brow.
“I’m sorry.” He tucked hands into his jean pockets, gaze firmly on me. “I was a prick.”
“Okay…” I drank in his appearance. Hair dishevelled, scruff s
lightly raggedy, tight royal blue T-shirt, dark wash jeans, and black Converse. Even at stupid o’clock in the morning, he looked like a model.
“I’m still pissed at you.” His lips quirked up at the sides. “But I miss you too much to stay away.”
I gripped my walker and counted to ten, waiting for my heart to stop hurting.
“Luc…”
“If you won’t stay for–” His hands scrubbed rapidly over his face and hair. “Look. I just want you to be happy. If this London job is it, then so be it. But at least promise you’ll visit.”
It was deceptively easy to love Luc. And that’s what made it hard to lie.
“Of course.”
When I left, I wouldn’t be able to visit. I’d be the kind of gone where they put your picture on the back of a milk carton.
But I couldn’t tell Luc that.
Why not?
My gut twisted, memories and fear shadowing my rationale.
Luc’s lips twisted up into a shadow of a smile. “Gives me an excuse to visit Europe.”
Perhaps I wanted to pretend normality. Perhaps I’d embraced denial. Either way, I gave into my selfish desire for acceptance.
“I’ll make sure to keep my diary free.”
We stood in the middle of the room, staring at each other for a long moment. Finally, he broke eye contact, looking down at my leg.
“You’re moving better.”
“Yeah. I’ve been working hard.”
He rubbed his chin. “It feel okay?”
“Aches but definitely improving.”
We both stared at each other awkwardly, at a loss for words. Our easy friendship felt strained.
Finally, Luc asked, “There’s a Studio Ghibli marathon on tonight. Wanna watch with me?”
“Are you joking? Yes! How did I not know about this?”
We went to the bedroom. I still had trouble sitting for long periods of time, and the bed was much more comfortable. Luc stretched out beside me, one arm tucked under his head, the other lazily draped across his stomach.
Bleeding Edge: Elliot Security (Elliot Security Series Book 2) Page 6
