“You think I’ll still be in danger once we get to a DEA field office in a major city?” Kylie asked, and Kellan made a sound to match her disbelief.
“I don’t know, Dev. I get that Fagan had a lot of locals in his pocket, but Chicago’s a far cry from Coyote Flats, Wyoming. You really think the guy’s got hooks like that?”
Devon’s gaze landed on Kylie, and something fierce and dark turned over in his belly. “I really think we can’t take the chance.”
A few heartbeats passed before Kellan said, “Okay. Get to Chicago and lay low. I’ll reach out once Detective Moreno and I land and we’ll strike a rendezvous point with the DEA. They’re not going to like the plan, but I’m not in it for a popularity contest. Just stay under the radar until I get there.”
“Copy that.”
Kellan’s response came after a pause that said he’d been measuring his words. “Hey, Ky, can you pick up for a second, off speaker?”
Kylie’s blue eyes narrowed, but she reached for the cell phone Devon had propped up over the dash. Cradling it to her ear, she mostly listened, adding a couple of quiet “mmm hmm”s to the mix before disconnecting the call.
“Everything okay?” Devon asked, although man, considering the threat level involved in their circumstances, the question was pretty brainless.
“Yeah.” Kylie wrapped her arms around her midsection, looking at the pink and orange-tinged landscape outside the passenger window. “He’s just worried. Wanted to make sure I’m hanging in there.”
Devon’s gut squeezed as if someone had jammed it into a vise. Of course, Kellan would go out of his way to make sure Kylie was straight. She was in danger. Her life was on the line.
And the only person keeping watch over her was Devon, who had nearly gotten a bullet buried in his buddy’s skull.
If you move, I will kill your friend. You’ll watch him die screaming, and then I’ll kill you just as slowly.
“Right. Of course,” Devon managed, his shoulders going stiff against the black leather of the driver’s seat. Dammit, he needed to put a stranglehold on that memory, once and for all. “Well, Chicago is only five hours from here. If you want to close your eyes, I’m good to drive.”
“Devon, what happened on your last tour in Afghanistan?”
The answer burned in his chest, begging for release just as it had when she’d asked the same question yesterday. For four years, he’d kept the whole thing buried, covering his unworthiness and guilt by holding everyone at a distance. Devon had grown tough not because he liked it—hell, half the time he looked in the mirror, he didn’t even recognize his reflection. He’d grown hard-edged and cold out of necessity. To get through the freelance jobs. To be there when his clients needed him to be. To cope.
But he couldn’t tell Kylie any of these things. He needed her to trust him for a little while longer, just until he made sure she was safe.
And if Devon told her the truth, her trust in him would shatter. No matter how badly he wanted to uncork every last bit of the horrible truth he’d kept buried.
Hell, part of him really wanted to tell her. But her trust would keep her safe, and right now, he needed that more.
“Afghanistan was a long time ago. It’s in the past,” he said, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the road, his mind set on keeping her protected.
But when she finally turned toward the window and closed her eyes in defeated silence, Devon couldn’t shake the feeling that if he’d told Kylie everything, she’d have understood.
They made record time to Chicago, thanks in no small part to Devon’s determination to get there and get hidden. Kylie had slept for pretty much the duration of the ride to the motel on the outskirts of the city, and he’d spent the time trying—and failing—to knock back his thoughts of the past.
He knew he needed to focus on the present, now more than ever. But with how Kylie was looking at him, so wide open and strong and so damn beautiful as she chained the motel room door and immediately closed the curtains like he’d taught her, Devon could no longer deny the truth hammered home by the five-hour drive.
What had happened in Afghanistan had happened. He could never atone for it, but if he didn’t give himself some breathing room, making good on Kylie’s trust in the here and now would never truly happen.
And he needed it. He needed her.
He needed to tell her.
“Devon?” Kylie’s voice threaded past the slam of his heartbeat against his ears. “What’s the matter?”
“There was an ambush. In Afghanistan.”
Devon blinked, the words sounding strange out loud after having been buried for so long. But now that he’d flipped the lid on the memory, the whole thing rushed upward, pushing and burning and desperate to be told.
Kylie crossed the carpet, standing in front of him in an instant even though she said nothing, just looked at him with trust in her eyes, listening.
And hell if that didn’t make the words flow out faster.
