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“Why do we need a drink?”
She turned and stared at him.
“She locked her bedroom door and she’s refusing to speak to anyone until her grandmother arrives. Jordan is sending Noah and Clint after Abigail Clay.”
He nodded. She wouldn’t be alone. He didn’t want her to be alone. “That doesn’t explain why we need a drink.”
“It doesn’t explain why both of us are escaping Jordan, either,” she snorted. “For God’s sake, Micah, just drive around and find a fucking bar. Buy me a whisky and we’ll toast to a mission accomplished. How’s that?” Anger filled her tone.
Micah looked at her askance. He’d not seen her angry. Not that she had been with the group long, a year or so perhaps.
She was pale now, though, her deep green eyes distressed, her expression tormented.
“Did something happen after I left? Is Risa okay?”
She turned to him, and in her eyes he saw the same torment he felt in his soul.
“Let’s say, I may have seen my future,” she whispered. “And if I don’t get a drink fast, I just might lose what sanity I’ve managed to retain.” She shook her head wearily. “I think I want to get drunk.”
He started the car and slid it in reverse. “I think I’ll join you.”
And neither of them saw the shadow that watched from the exit.
Jordan leaned his shoulder against the narrow door frame and considered the couple as they left, the car easing through the pouring rain as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks and lowered his head.
He stared at the cracked tile of the stairwell and breathed out roughly.
He hadn’t expected this. He shook his head and ground his teeth together. He’d expected many things from Micah, but Jordan had to admit he hadn’t expected him to walk away from Risa Clay.
“Are you going to tell him any differently?”
His head jerked up as his nephew’s ruined voice sounded from behind him.
Glancing over his shoulder, Jordan considered the younger man. Noah Blake. At one time Noah Blake had been Nathan Malone, a husband, a SEAL. Until an assignment went to hell and he had become the prisoner of a fanatical drug lord.
Diego Fuentes was still alive, currently working in deep cover with Homeland Security. Nathan Malone had been listed as Killed in Action. And Noah Blake had been born.
It had taken Noah six years before he returned to the wife he had left. But once he’d returned, there had been no going back. The papers he’d signed, turning his life over to the Elite Ops, hadn’t mattered. All that mattered to Noah was his wife, Nathan’s wife, Sabella, and the child they were now expecting.
“No, I’m not going to tell him,” Jordan finally answered, very well aware that Noah was talking about Jordan’s refusal to impose the strict guidelines set down for the Elite Ops agents.
No weaknesses. No wives. No lovers. No relationships. They were dead men, and at no time could they ever risk being more than that.
Noah had broken every rule in the book earlier in the year when he had taken back his life in Alpine, Texas. He was now Noah Blake, garage owner, husband, and upstanding citizen.
“You’d let him just walk away from her?” Noah leaned against the wall facing Jordan and pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “He’s crazy about her, Jordan.”
Jordan considered the question for long moments before asking, “Did you ask for permission to have your life back, Noah? Did you file papers, protest the guidelines, or ask for any quarter?”
Noah frowned. “I almost walked away from my wife the second time. I almost lost a chance to know my child. Those papers I signed, the decision I made when I pledged my life to the Elite Ops, wasn’t a joke, Jordan. Not to any of us. Especially Micah. We’re the men we are because of the code of honor we’ve always adhered to. That’s why you picked us up for this team. We took that decision seriously.”
Jordan tipped his head to the side. “You didn’t answer my question,” he reminded his nephew softly. “Did you ask permission?”
“Fuck no. Without Bella, you’d have a shell that didn’t care if he lived or died. That’s what you’ll have with Micah.”
Jordan shrugged. “Then that’s his choice. Not mine. Not yours. In this life, or death, Noah, every man has to make this choice himself. This won’t be an easy life for you, for Bella, Micah, or Risa. The twelve years you pledged to the Ops is non-negotiable. The rest is a solitary decision that each man has to make on his own.”
Noah’s eyes narrowed on him. “It’s a test.”
