The tone of the FBI agent softens slightly. “I can reassure you that relationships formed during times of high stress and near-death experiences don’t usually last once life becomes more mundane. It’s the excitement, the adrenaline. It’s what drew you together, but trust me, it won’t sustain this. You’re a civilian, and Luke Bradshaw will always have a target on his head. Evenif it’s not the men who kidnapped you at Bradshaw Enterprises, another group will most likely surface and try to use you to get to him.”
“So...you’re saying, being with him wouldn’t be safe?” My voice is barely audible as I stare at the photo.
“I’m saying, it would be a very high risk with little chance of actually working out. We’ve come to this conclusion after questioning the remaining mercenary and the chief of staff, Georginne Smith, whose real name was Anya Popov. I suggest you move on from this event, go to therapy, and try dating a man who’s not involved with such dangerous people.”
She glances toward the mirror in the room, nodding at herself...or whoever is watching and listening to us.
“Miss Dawson, what I’m about to tell you is classified information. I’m only sharing it for your safety.”
I stare at her, my mouth dry.
“Luke Bradshaw is under investigation for the events that occurred during the Steelhart mission. Someone on the SEAL Team—we don’t know who—was a mole. The mole was working with the enemy, which led to the death of Reid Lewis. We believe he was shot down by either Garrison Rake, Henrik Cavalry, or...Luke Bradshaw.”
CHAPTER 38
LUKE
“What’sit like to not experience remorse?”
Garrison must have seen us come in and sit two chairs down from him in the back row, because he doesn’t turn. He simply opens the hymnal to the page the minister directed us to.
Hundreds of things to say to him run through my mind, but once the sermon wraps up, my tongue is tied. There aren’t enough threats in the world. He needs to be locked up, and until it happens, I won’t feel peace. Neither will Fallon.
He faces me as the last note of the song is out, ironically one about coming to Jesus “just as you are.”
He studies me as he grips his Bible. “What do you want, Lynx?”
His posture is rigid, the veins in his neck sticking out. He hasn’t slacked on his fitness routine, but I’m glad to know I make him a little nervous.
“I want you to leave my sister.”
His eyes don’t stray from my face. His jaw ticks.
“She’s safe with me.”
People move down the aisles, chatting about the message and where to grab lunch.
We’re finally alone in the public place, like I intended. This was the only place I thought I could meet with him and resist the urge to slit his throat. Also, there’s no chance it’s bugged like one of our homes or cars could be.
“She’s no safer with you than she would be with them,” I spit out at him. The enemy we fought for years was deadly, but nothing compares to the evil of a man that can shoot his own brother.
He clenches his jaw, and I know I’ve hit a mark. He turns to try and leave, but I haven’t said my piece yet. I step closer, daring to put a hand on him by gripping the front of his pinstriped shirt and yanking him toward me.
My mouth hovers near his ear, my voice low. “Listen up. You’re going to be proven guilty, and you’ll be put to death or dropped in a hole for the rest of your miserable life.
“Until then, you can try to find some of that redemption the preacher just talked about if you do the right thing for once. But since I know you’re a selfish prick, hear this: if you touch her...if you lay one finger on Fallon against her will, I will tear you to pieces and feed you to the wild animals in the same desert you slaughtered him in. You’re going toleaveher. You understand me,brother?”
He jerks back from me, eyes darkening. “I’m not willing to do that. I love her.”
I scoff, shaking my head. “Do you love her enough to want to spare her the hurt and shame that will come once they drag you out in cuffs? Once your name is blasted on the news as the traitor who killed a brother in arms?”
He looks around nervously, and I realize I raised my voice.
His response is quiet. “You’ve got it wrong, and I’ve been searching for evidence, just like you have. If I prove my innocence, can we put this behind us? Will it be enough for you? Or are you too angry to even hear me out?”
Henrik moves around to the row in front of us, so he can face Garrison. “What evidence do you have? We want to hear you out.”
My eyes flicker to his, but I pause, a tiny part of me curious to hear what Garrison has to say. He steps closer to us, lowering his voice.
