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I take a shower and redress my bullet wound. I put some gel in my hair out of habit and am fuming all over again. I wonder when the thought of hair products won’t send me into a blind rage. A long-ass time.
As I put on my buttery-soft light-as-air clothes, my hands shake. Not from the action of the day or even my anger. I think I…am afraid?
Wow, I’m afraid.
Afraid Eleanna won’t choose me. She could be texting her sister right now. A short, vague message of warning and I’m done for. Robbie wouldn’t let the message actually go out, of course, which,shit!I forgot to tell her we monitor her phone too. Well. I don’t think phone monitoring will be the nail in the coffin of this sham marriage.
I sigh as I slip on my sneakers. I am going to have to run off some steam after this conference call. And all this…worry? It’s foreign. Adrenaline, that I know. Fear in the moment of the action, fine. Solving puzzles, feeling a concern at the back of my mind if I know one of the others is on a mission.
But this is different. I think maybe for the first time ever, I am worried about loss. Mostly, I’ve had nothing to lose in this life. I would hate to lose one of the guys, but we’re prepared for that inevitability. This is war. But now I really could lose Ellie, lose her trust, her partnership, the chance at a future.
A future.
That’s it.
I want a future with my wife. I grow almost sick at the realization. And not only could I lose her, if she rejects this idea, rejects us, I could lose everything. Including my life. And maybe hers. Shit, this is a mess.
The thought of it makes my chest ache, in addition to the nausea, as I head through my office to the bunker. It’s hidden behind a false back wall of the small closet. There’s a keypad too, and another door after the first. I make my way in and find Gailo sitting in one of the two desk chairs already, typing on a keyboard and pulling up the feeds.
“Well, by all means, make yourself right at home.”
“Don’t mind if I do,pollo,”he says, relaxed and cocky as always. I have to fight a smile at thechickennickname. He’s the only one who still regularly calls me that, orPfor short.
I glare at him. “You know you called me P out loud.”
“You know you asked me to shoot your wife.” he mocks me. Before I can think of a retort the screens fill with my favorite faces. Well, all but the recent addition, which I hope is at rest upstairs.
Zander starts. “You absolute pussy-whipped, big, dumb fucking moron.”
“The biggest.” Van says, with a pleased, creepy smile.
“Sorry, I have to agree.” Robbie looks apologetic.
“Don’t say sorry, he fucked the fuck up in the biggest possible way.” Gailo says next to me, punching me in the shoulder. I keep my mouth shut, with effort.
“That, he did.” O’s deep voice sounds before he shows up on the screen, at Robbie’s side.
All of us shut up and straighten up at the sight of him. He saved us all. One by one he found us in the ashes, gutters and wastelands of this dark life. He plucked us out and raised us. Trained and molded us. Loved us.
“Mark. What are you?”
I clear my throat, feeling eight years old again. “Dead.”
“And what should you be, at all times, in every way?”
“Camouflaged.” I answer the questions like I have a million times before. My shoulders sag and my voice is low, rough. I know I’ve put us all in danger. I deserve the lashing I’m about to get.
“Hidden. In. Plain. Sight. That is our goal. Our survival. Is a smiley young senator taking down a Russian assassin in two moves hidden in plain sight?”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from explaining myself.
“No.” He answers for me. “Is disappearing during afamiliagathering, perfectly set up to injure you and avert suspicion from our enemies, who are sniffing around very fucking close, and suddenly showing up after the explosion, unharmed without so much as a scratch on you, is that unremarkable?” I throw my head into my hand and rub my forehead, waiting and holding my tongue. “I think it’s worth remarking on. I think it’s noteworthy. And when our enemies take note? We die, Mark. We all die.”
Everyone shifts, uncomfortable in their seats, knowing he’s not done.
“I must say this surprises me. You’ve always been the level head. The most patient of all. You’ve hidden yourself, physically, hidden your own skin, for over two decades and now you expose us? What the hell was your wife doing at Operation Dent?”
“She surprised me. She was never supposed to be there.”
