I shot.
But not at my father. As much as I want the man dead, I didn’t trust my aim. Between the adrenaline, fear, and rage rushing through me, with Clara just a few feet away, and no opportunity to practice in what feels like forever, I shot wide on purpose. But my face must have been grim enough for my father to see it as the warning it was, and he disappeared into the house, giving us a chance to get the hell out of there.
After that fucking half-assed surgery that shouldn’t have worked but somehow did, I’d scanned the space, looking for a camera. I hadn’t been able to find it.
There’s no way my father didn’t know exactly where we were. There’s no way he didn’t see us do something we shouldn’t have done. Damned if we do, damned if we don’t. His favorite trap.
I grabbed Emma’s phone after Clara texted RJ and added my own coded request to see if the footage was stored or a live feed. Not that I’ll get the answer, not the way we’re about to be locked down, but hopefully if the guys know how screwed we are, they can take steps to keep Jansen safe.
If only it were just his body that was in trouble. But breaking into my father’s estate, scrambling on the roof going who knows where to do who knows what, when last I heard he was in a secure facility—the other guys will have their work cut out for them.
Add to it I know their patterns, how they react to stress, with both Walker and RJ pulling away from the group? It’s bound to be a mess over there.
But I can’t worry about that.
No.
I have to worry about the woman beside me and what’s waiting for us when we get back.
Sure enough, guards surround the car once we reach the front gate, escorting us down the drive to the house with weapons trained on all sides.
“We came back voluntarily,” Clara whispers. “This is overkill.”
“Intimidation is a tool like any other,” I whisper back, careful of the open windows and curious ears.
She glances at me. “One you learned from a master, I take it?”
I exhale, not needing to answer. She knows. She knows more about me than anybody else on this godforsaken planet. Maybe even more than I know about myself, considering this plan she had to convince me I was capable of enacting by her side.
On one of the last nights before we came back, with the fire snapping at the midnight air like it had something to prove, I’d been lying in my hammock enjoying the night sounds when the door to the RV screeched open. I’d assumed it was Jansen, as Clara hadn’t been out in the middle of the night in weeks, so I was surprised when she stumbled to the fire.
“Bad dream?” I’d asked, already knowing the answer.
She’d wrapped her arms around herself, so I tossed her my blanket, the desert colder at night than I thought it wouldbe when we went down there. After a moment of hesitation, she’d walked up to my hammock. “Scooch over and we can share.” And while I hadn’t wanted to be that close to her, too terrified that I was still a danger to her, I couldn’t do anything besides make space for her, bracing the fabric so she could get in with some semblance of grace.
She’d tucked the blanket over both our laps, hip to hip, our legs dangling off one side like the hammock was a porch swing. “We need to get used to this,” she’d said.
“To sharing a blanket?”
“To touching,” she’d said, gazing up at me, the fire painting her face in flickers of orange and gold.
I’d shaken my head, not ready for that. Not yet. “The plan, it puts too much on you. It puts too much on us, you and me. I don’t know if we can…if I can fake with you.”
She’d reached down, scooping up a book from the dirt, one that was now sandy and dog-eared. “I wish you’d go to therapy with Tia Maria. Books aren’t the same.”
“Clara, I can barely manage ‘Hola’ without feeling like the worst fucking gringo out here.”
“She got you all these books, Trips. She wants to help.”
“And she doesn’t know much more English than I do Spanish. But I appreciate the books. You can tell her that.”
“You know the anger will never disappear, right? The same as my fear will always be with me.” She’d turned to me, graceful fingers taking my scarred hand in hers. “We have to learn not to let the emotions control us. We’re in charge of our responses, have choices. Even though sometimes it feels like we’re trapped in our minds, we aren’t.” Her eyes were so goddamn earnest, with so much hope,that I’d nodded.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to that point. I’m still not. But her being that close made me feel crazy, out of control, the urge to put space between us before I fucked up again like a brand searing my brain.
“You can do this, Trips. I’ve seen how hard you’ve been working at controlling yourself. Jansen’s been trying to get a rise out of you for two weeks, and you haven’t snapped at him once.”
That fucker,I’d thought, his increasingly annoying behavior suddenly making sense.
