I’m slipping. Losing my edge. Misjudging Coop. Ignoring my instincts. Believing my leadership could keep him in line. My mistake could have cost West, Inara, and Royce their lives.
Flipping on the coffee maker, I catch sight of the crumpled postcard on the counter. The damn thing showed up last night.
We hope you’ll join us at Libations at 2:00 p.m. Sunday, April 25thas we say our vows. Light appetizers will be served.
No gifts.
Cam and West
I should go, but I can’t bring myself to RSVP. The idea of spending an afternoon celebrating love—an emotion I’ll never understand—leaves me cold. I don’t know how to face them. West and Inara—my team. Not after my fuck-ups. And I don’t mingle. Don’t do casual conversation.
The night West and I cleaned up Coop’s mess, we talked more in six hours than we had in months. And in the two weeks since, I haven’t spoken a word to a soul other than the doc.
The rich scent of coffee fills the open kitchen. Leaning against the counter in only a pair of briefs, I run my callused fingers over the new scar on my side and scowl. In a few weeks, it’ll blend in with all the rest. The stripes across my back. The burns along my chest. The rough, pebbled flesh down my right arm.
I flex my hands, trying to work out the customary aches that always accompany morning—or the rain. If I didn’t love Seattle so much, I’d move somewhere warmer. The fuckers who ran Hell broke all of my fingers more than once, along with a lot of other bones, and I’ll never be pain free.
Once my coffee mug’s full, I wander over to my laptop. Plugging in the internet cable, I wake up the machine and check my email.
Great. Another message from Inara.
Ry,
West and I are meeting Graham at the warehouse for some drills tonight at seven. Come join us. We’re all going a little stir crazy.
Inara
I can’t. Fuck. I’m a piece of work. One hundred percent asshole. I tried. After cleaning up the mess in the rail yard after our last mission and seeing the doc, I came back here, showered, and then forced myself to head to University Village. My worst nightmare. Buying Royce a new phone and watch nearly killed me. All those people. And then I walked into H&M and asked the clerk for two casual women’s outfits in size six. Pretty sure the girl thought I had someone tied up in my basement. I don’t know what possessed me, but Inara lost everything in the fire that burned down her house and almost killed her and Royce. And since Coop targeting her was my fault to begin with, I had to do something.
After I click reply, I stare at the blank screen for a full five minutes before I figure out what to say—and do.
I’m headed out of town for a few days. Need to clear my head. After West gets back from his honeymoon, we’ll start regular training sessions again. Use the warehouse whenever you want. Expense a couple of cases of water and energy drinks. I’ll reimburse you. Don’t get soft.
No pleasantries. No emotion. Just the facts. That’s all I can give her. The coffee goes down too quickly, and before I know it, I’m on my third cup and looking at flights to Boston. Dax, the only other member of my squad who made it through fifteen months of Hell, lives in Back Bay. He’ll understand.
At least…I think he will. We haven’t talked in…longer than I want to admit. But shit like we endured bonds you for life. And if he doesn’t, at least I won’t be here where ghosts haunt me at every turn.
Though the sun’s only been up for an hour, the three-hour time difference means Dax answers on the second ring.
“Ry? Seriously? You’ve got some nerve calling here.”
The anger in his voice sets me on edge, and I stare up at the ceiling, fighting against the instinct to hang up on the asshole. “Yeah. Seriously. You gonna cut me some fucking slack, or do I hang up right now?”
“I’m not the one who went dark for six years. Half a dozen calls, unanswered. Twice as many emails. I figured you were either dead or…fuck. I don’t know.”
My heart pounds hard enough I feel the beat in my ears and behind my eyes. I’m almost seven feet tall. Two hundred and eighty pounds. And right now, I feel like I’m about to crumble into a million pieces. “Been busy,” I snap. “Hidden Agenda doesn’t run itself. If you’d joined me, you’d know that.”
“Well, maybe if you’d…goddammit. I don’t have time for this shit. What do you want?”
“Nothing, apparently. Take care of yourself, Dax.” Jabbing the phone screen, I sever the last, thin thread that bound us together.
* * *
Wren
The hard knot in my chest makes breathing difficult, and I fumble for the little plastic container in my messenger bag. My monitor’s glow casts the office in an eerie blueish light, and I scan the lines of text that scroll by as my thumb flicks the little catch on the box.
Before I can fish out one of the little pills, an alert pops up on my screen.
