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Again. The decision was taken away from me, again.Brad put the bottle down on the railing. He didn’t need the temptation to smash it for a weapon. Hell, he didn’t need the weapon. He took another long puff on the cigar.
“From the moment that happened, you’ve been trying to reassert control by pushing her buttons, by using what you know about her to get her to open up. Every little action, every word—it’s all geared towards getting her to respond, and it’s working. Here’s where you and I have a problem. I don’t trust you. I don’t trust that what you’re doing is about her and not you. Sex is another manipulator. You’re aligning yourself with me, so she’s on the opposite side, and you’re planting the ideas, tossing them out there like the three of us could have—what? A night? An open relationship? Something longer term?”
Gabriel verged very close along the truth. “That’s why you changed the subject when you came back with the drinks.” It wasn’t a question.
“I changed the subject because she isn’t ready. She’s at war with herself—at war with her own feelings. All sex would have done is complicate an already complicated situation.”
“Says the man fucking her every night.” His anger slipped its leash.
“That burns you, doesn’t it?” It wasn’t a taunt. “It burns you that you are on the outside, and all you can think about is getting back inside where you can control everything.”
Fuck this.“I know what makes her happy.” He resisted the urge to chomp down on the cigar and focused on keeping his breathing easier. “I’ve known her for years. I know how she thinks. How she reacts. What she needs.”
“You did, I agree.” Gabriel folded his arms. “Before you died. She isn’t the same person anymore. You know, it took me a while to see it—to see what John always sees in her—but once I saw it, I couldn’t unsee it. John’s scars are on the outside, and he uses them as a barricade against the world. Sachi’s are on the inside, but they are every bit as deep and disfiguring. She uses her role-playing to keep the world from seeing how vulnerable she feels she is. So, no, what sheneedsis to heal. What sheneedsis for us to put her first, even when she doesn’t know or want us to do it. You aren’t doing that—”
“The fuck I’m not.” Fury ignited his adrenaline and sloughed off some of the alcohol. “Tell you what, Professor, you analyze whatever you want. I know my girl. I would take a bullet for her, no hesitation. Cut off an arm, if I needed to. You’re right, she is the walking wounded, yet a year with you hasn’t fixed it.”
“No, and your arrival only derailed what progress she’d made.” The hint of regret and disappointment in his tone stilled Brad’s ire. “Take a good long look at her, Brad. Ask yourself this question—if the best thing in the world for her was you staying dead, would you have ever let them tell her you were alive?”
Nothing he said would change the man’s mind. If Gabriel kept the door closed, Brad would only tear Sachi apart by forcing his way in.
“I can’t walk away again,” he said, embracing a reality he did not want to face. Fuck it, he wasn’t some pansy ass boy. If push came to shove, he’d fucking man up and deal with it. “If she wants me gone, all she has to do is say the words. I’ll go. Until the moment she does, I’m in this to stay. But you don’t trust me, so it doesn’t really matter what I say.”
“Actions,” Gabriel said quietly, “speak far louder than words. You want to take control so you can mitigate the damage, and I get it. You want it to be easier for you to take back your position, at least partially. Maybe even long enough to shove me out.” He shrugged. “Maybe you’re thinking sharing her long-term really will work. I don’t know.”
“Could you?” Brad turned the tables and gestured to Gabriel with his cigar. “Could you share her?”
“I already do.” The answer shocked the shit out of him. “I have from the moment I met her. There’s been a ghost in our bed every single night. The only difference now is the ghost has a form and a voice and can inflict even more harm if he isn’t careful.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only answer you’re getting, Peck.” Gabriel glanced at the house. “I’m going to turn in. She shouldn’t be alone.”
Brad waited until he was at the door to the house to turn away and face the dark night around them. “For what it’s worth, Danvers, I do trust you.” He hadn’t planned to admit it. “No game, no working the charm. You’ve done everything you said you would from the day you arrived. You’ve always put her first. While I may think you’re a fucking cockblocking bastard at the moment, I also get why.” Pride was important.Pride. Strength. Determination.
But all of it was fucking empty without her.
He kicked his pride to the curb. “So you can make me jump through whatever hoops you need. I can handle it.”
Silence, then the door handle turned and the hinges squeaked as it opened. “Duly noted.” The door closed, but maybe—just maybe—he’d found another route in. A longer, heavily land mined route, but a route nonetheless.
What the hell did he have to lose, anyway? Tipping the bottle up, he took a long pull of the scotch. Maybe with enough of it in him, he could sleep in the same room with the two of them and not ache to hold her.
Yeah, and maybe peacock-tailed monkeys will fly out of my ass. I’m in the same room with her, she sees me. It’s enough. For right now, ithasto be enough.
He definitely needed more to drink.
The air was filledwith dust, and it clogged her lungs. She tried to keep her breathing shallow, but the pressure on her chest—fuck, it hurt. A crossbeam touched her, an inch short of crushing her completely. Darkness filled with debris and the harsh sound of her breathing. The foundation beneath her held some heat. She fought the urge to twist to see what was there, because she knew. Still, she fought to twist and turn anyway. She had to know for certain. She’d heard the crunch of bone before hell swallowed them. She’d seen the blood…but if even a micro-chance existed, she had to know.
The concrete scraped her skin, and the coppery scent of blood added to the stink of sweat, dirt, and God knew what else. Agonizingly slow, she twisted. Though her eyes were open, nothing moved across her field of vision. The endless pitch of black held not even a trace of light.
Her leg screamed as pain raced like a river of fire along her nervous system, and she gasped in a mouthful of dust. Choking on it, she finally turned over and saw the deck of the ship below in the Russian harbor. From her vantage, she had both the loading dock and deck covered. The teams had moved—Titanium’s was on board. Tungsten was a flicker in her vision as he checked one of the containers.
“Look alive, folks.” Tungsten’s voice came across her earpiece. “Target spotted and rolling in.” The rumble of a diesel engine cut through the morning quiet. The moment elongated. Her finger trembled over the trigger, her heart slamming like a metal drum in her ears.
She’d been here. She knew what came next. A warning to get out, to extract and abort the mission died unspoken as her jaw refused to work. The scene played out—the SUVs, the tanker truck, the order to take out the escort but leave the asset alive.
“Copper,” Steele whispered in her earpiece.
