“Did anyone ever tell you,” I asked, sliding under the covers, “that you’re freakishly tall?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’d better watch it.”
“Or what? You don’t scare me.”
Even though the bed was big, he eased up against me. His fingers skimmed across my stomach, lightly tickling me and making me squirm.
“Liar. I scare the hell out of you.”
And the wildest part was I was starting to like it.
32
ETHAN
I liftedup on my elbows. Olivia slipped out of the bed and disappeared down the stairs. A cabinet was opened and closed. Something poured into a glass. Quiet footsteps grew louder as she approached, naked and carrying a drink I assumed was bourbon.
If we kept this up, I wouldn’t be thinking about home anymore when I drank—I’d be thinking about her.
“I’ve come to collect,” she said, handing me the glass and getting back into bed. “Tell me about hell.”
I didn’t hesitate. “Croatia, two years ago. I know what Kara said, how she thinks I saved Laurel’s life, but that’s not the case.”
I took a sip and handed it back so we could share, because she was going to need it.
“Laurel begged me to kill her.”
She jerked her head back in shock. “What?”
“The weeks before Jason found her, Juric—the man holding her—used all sorts of drugs to keep her amnesia going, including painful ones. My directive was to get close and gather intel. Absolutely no interference, no action without authorization.” The bourbon did fuck-all to help the bitter taste filling my mouth that the memory brought on. “Whenever that psychopath tortured her, I had to stand aside and let it happen.”
The truth was Juric had been torturing two people every time he sank that needle into Laurel’s arm.
I knew what it was like to see someone in so much painthey begged for death, and I’d been helpless to stop it. Olivia’s confession about Gonzales told me she knew what that was like as well.
Yet another thing we had in common.
“You did what you had to,” she whispered.
“It doesn’t make it easier to live with.”
She set a hand on my cheek. “I know.”
Emotion, foreign and confusing, crept in. My hell paled in comparison to hers. She’d made it through that night on the mountain with all sorts of scars, but she was still standing. I was in awe of her. Like in South Africa, I watched her sip her bourbon, and my gaze trailed down over her neck as she swallowed.
“What else do you want to know?” I asked.
A slight smile tweaked on her lips. “Oh, I have lots of questions.”
But she didn’t ask them. She set the glass down and curled up beside me, her fingertips skimming over one of my scars.
“Enough interrogation for tonight,” she said. “I’d like you rested before I start in on you again.”
It pulled a short laugh from me. “You should strike while I’m weak, not wait for me to recoup.”
“Are you warning me that it’ll be more dangerous?” Her eyes sparked with warmth.
My hand covered hers. “Right, I forgot. You like danger.”
