Page 79 of False Flag

No. It was simply her. The person she was beneath the attractive package.

The woman who’d been assaulted and reacted by putting herself on the front line in an attempt to shut down the threat, to prevent others from going through what she’d faced. She was compassionate. Sharp and funny. Daring. Every minute of the paintball war had been more fun with her involvement.

She’d used the excuse of the game to kiss him, and not the kiss as a lure to defeat him, as she’d wanted him to believe.

And she had wanted him that day, even though she didn’t want to want him. She’d thought—maybe even expected—he’d turn on her like Beau had.

Because she’d had every reason to believe he was an apostle like Lloyd.

Lloyd.

She hadn’t even liked Lloyd, but she was here for Jake’s grief. Accepting all the love he had for his brother, even though he’d been nasty to her at the end.

At some point in the future, when Jake was in a better emotional state, he would insist on a do-over. And when that happened, there was no way she’d walk away.

He lay there, watching her sleep, feeling a moment of peace, but it didn’t take long for his new reality to set in.

Lloyd was gone. Really and truly gone.

He slid from the bed and quietly left the room. He descended the stairs of the two-story suite. After setting the coffee to brew, he entered the bathroom. The last time he’d stepped into the shower after sharing a bed with Staci, she’d sneaked out, but he had no fear of a repeat. The change in their relationship was fundamental. Foundational.

He twisted the knob to a few degrees above frigid and stood under the spray for a long time. Long enough to get his first cry of the day behind him. By the time he emerged, his body was scrubbed clean, tears drained. Mind focused.

In the living room, he was greeted by Staci on the couch, a mug of coffee cradled in her hands. Hair mussed, she wore his T-shirt, which covered her to mid-thigh. It was the vision he’d wanted but didn’t get after they’d had sex.

Seeing her in his shirt triggered something primal. Possessive. “Changed my mind. It looks better on you. Shirt’s yours.”

She smiled as she shifted on the couch and tugged down the hem. Her gaze turned serious. “How are you feeling?”

“Like crap. But better. You?”

“Same. The coffee helps. Thanks for making it.”

He nodded and went to the coffeemaker to pour himself a cup.

His first morning in a world without his brother. The first of many, many firsts. He sat in the wing chair closest to her. “What’s your plan for the day?”

“I’m here for you. Whatever you want. Whatever you need.”

Lord, he’d give anything to hear that from her in a different context, but this was not the time.

“Food. Clothing. Phone calls.”

“We have leftovers if you don’t mind dinner for breakfast. Or we can go out. There’s a restaurant nearby that I hear has really good breakfast poutine.”

“Oh, man. I love poutine. Let’s do that.” He wondered if he’d be able to eat. Regardless, he had to try.

His phone rang. He glanced at the screen. “It’s Chris.”

“I’ll jump in the shower.” She grabbed her clothes from yesterday and crossed to the bathroom.

“Burns,” he said as he stood to pace the small room.

“Hey, man. With Freya’s help, we’re working to pull strings to get a boat with supplies to you. It’ll take a couple of days because it’s a special arrangement between a Washington tribe and First Nations. The boat will be small, but it’s got a cabin and is outfitted to live aboard.”

He stopped pacing as relief swept through him. “Thank you,” he managed to say through a tight throat.

“We want to be certain you can return to Letora Island with your own boat so you can come and go as you need and get away from Osborne’s signal blockers to communicate. Safer for you and Staci. Freya insists that you and Staci stick together, wherever you are. I hope that won’t be an issue for either of you.”