“I had no idea where I was!” It was my turn to become angry. He had no idea what I’d been through the last six weeks. I killed Vlad. I let myself be touched and tortured on camera while Sasha had watched.
“No,” I said. “You don’t get to do this.”
“Do what?” he huffed.
“Blame me for all the things I’ve done, all the things I didn’t do—to survive.”
“I saw you ‘surviving’,” he spat in an awful voice as he stalked toward me.
I stood up and went face to face with him. Before I knew it, our anger erupted into lust. I tore at his clothes while he ripped the blanket off me. We were rabid, teeth and lips, bruising.
Pain.
It was what I deserved, and I welcomed it.
Flynn punished me because I’d found pleasure in another man’s arms. I punished Flynn back because he hadn’t been able to keep me safe from Dolinsky.
We collapsed onto the rug, panting hard. He reached for my hand, and we didn’t say anything more about our time apart and the people we’d become. We were here, now, because we chose to be.
And hopefully that was stronger than love.
Chapter 50
I examined Flynn’s bullet graze. It was still red, but it was minor, a flesh wound. “Dolinsky shot you?” I asked.
Flynn nodded.
“Does it still hurt?”
“No.”
I sighed.
“We should get your finger looked at,” Flynn said.
“It’s fine,” I dismissed.
“Barrett—”
“It’s been seen to, okay?” I whispered, wanting him to drop it.
He nodded, still looking a bit troubled.
“Can I borrow some of your clothes?”
Flynn reached out and grasped my chin, pulling me to him for a kiss. “Aye.”
We got up off the floor, and I followed Flynn to the master bedroom, enjoying the view of him. He opened a dresser drawer and pulled out sweats and a T-shirt for me.
“You need to call Brad,” I said as I stuck my head through the neck hole.
“Why?”
“Because there needs to be a ceasefire.”
“There isn’t a war going on,” Flynn said in exasperation.
“Isn’t there? The Russians don’t want a war. They don’t want blood on the streets. They want an alliance. With you.”
