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Fisher’s hands leave my shoulders. He steps away, goes into the bathroom, and unzips a small leather bag. He places a toothbrush in it, then steps out of view, but I can hear him in the shower.
“What’re you doing?”
“You can have this room. I’m moving to the guest room.”
I curl up onto the bed, knees to my stomach. I should probably log on and read through the team record of what happened today. But I don’t have the energy.
The confusion is hard to cut through when my mind is loopy. I never wanted to hurt Fisher. Or scare him. I promised him I wouldn’t go out on my own, and I didn’t. I upheld my promise. I just…that damn tracker. Why didn’t it work?
CHAPTER30
FISHER
The guest room lies on the opposite end of the one-story home. Ironically, it’s the room where Sophia stores her secrets.
In the morning, I’ll update her fully on my conversation with Rafael. We fully expect after the Monday meeting he requested, I’ll be dealing with the Americans he’s recruited. Some will deliver cash in envelopes and have essentially no idea who they’re working for. Many will have family in Colombia and will do exactly as told to ensure their loved ones’ safety. Special Agent Williams briefed me on what to expect on Monday and how to respond.
The plan is to set up the accounts and conduct trades and purchases long enough to get a grasp on the Toros’ preferred money laundering scheme, and someone within the task force will determine when we’ve gotten as much information as we can, and we’ll shut it down.
I’d love to go for a run. My best thinking is done when determination overrides painful knees and stiff muscles. It’s one foot after the other, inhale, exhale, in a meditative trance that increases blood flow, loosens my joints, and frees my mind.
Earlier today, I feared the worst. The idea that Sophia might be hurt, or, god forbid, die, while working this job just about killed me. I’d felt so helpless, and that’s not an emotion I handle well.
It occurred to me she didn’t have a signal. But if she had any idea how scared I’d been, she would have found a way to call. To get word to me she was okay.
But why would she know how I feel? I don’t think I fully realized how deeply I care until faced with the worst. And to her, I’m a part of an operation. A city she’s passing through.
This operation could continue for a few more months, but it will end, and when it does, I might not cross paths with her again for years. That’s the way it is in our profession.
I pull back the comforter and stare down at the crisp, white linens, remembering what Ava said…that I love Sophia. Love? I’ve never been in love before. It could be love. There were times today it felt like my life would end if hers did. But if it’s love, it’s unrequited.
“Is something wrong with those sheets?” Sophia leans against the doorjamb. Her auburn hair is tucked behind her ear, looking as youthful as ever, even if the skin below her eyes is puffy. “You’ve been staring at them a long time.”
“What’s up?”
“Why are we…are you…” She sounds unsure of herself, which is a side of Sophia I haven’t seen since she was a teenager. She folds her arms over her middle.
“Sleeping here?” I ask for her.
She shrugs.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. How do I explain? What we have isn’t just sex. But it’s not more either. “Sophia.” I breathe out her name, struggling with the right words. “Today, I thought I lost you.” Emotion wells up in my throat and my eyes water, evidence I’m not cut out for this. “Tomorrow we can talk about it more. But I think it’s better if we keep this, between us, on professional ground moving forward.”
“Is this a case of you caring more about what my dad can do for you than what you care for me?”
“What?” How can she say that?
She avoids my gaze, and she damn well should. “Or is this a case of it gets tough, so you quit?”
My head nearly explodes. Any sadness or despair gets blown to smithereens.
“There’s nothing here to quit, Sophia!” Those blue eyes widen, and she cowers. I am not a quitter. She’s implying I rang the bell willfully, not because I was injured and they thought I might die. I shared with her a story I never talk about, and here she is throwing it back in my face.
“You!” I raise my hand, pointing my index finger directly at her traitorous heart. “Clearly, I mean nothing to you. If I did, you would’ve gotten word to me. You would’ve checked in. You wouldn’t have scared the living daylights out of me. There’s nothing to quit here.” Another thought comes to mind, and I point harder. “You said it’s just sex. And if it’s just sex, then it’s not quitting when it ends, is it?”
Holy shit. My blood pulses with rage. How dare she throw my biggest failure back in my face. Something I’ve never shared with another woman. Something only a handful of men, men I consider brothers, know about me. And that handful of men, Ryan, Trevor, and Jack, they’ll probably never speak to me again.
Jesus, I’ve fucked up.
