“That I can do.” We shake again, and he heads over to the driverless SUV. The one with Elena and Semyon in back.
Staring at Dax, I try to find the words to thank him for everything he did for us. All of our gear—except for Wren’s laptop and tablet—he had delivered to the hotel. He handled all of the logistics for our return trip, coordinated with the proper border security agencies, and kept the shit at the mansion out of the papers. “I…owe you.”
“You do. Maybe…” He takes off his tinted glasses and rubs his eyes. When he raises his head, I’d swear he can see into my soul. “Maybe you could give me a call sometime. To…uh…catch up.”
If he lays me out flat, it’ll still be worth it. I lean in and clasp him in a tight, quick hug. But he doesn’t protest, instead returning the gesture and clearing his throat. Probably has a lump in it the size of mine, if I know him at all. And maybe…I still do a little.
“I promise.” My voice cracks, and I release him.
“Those words…Wren’s right. No one should ever say them if they don’t mean them.” Dax reaches into his jacket pocket for his cane, unfolds it, and concentrates for a moment before pointing himself directly at Ford’s SUV.
Squeezing his shoulder before he can take a step, I force the lump away and blow out a breath. “I’ll call. You’re…family, Dax. And family keeps their promises.”
He blinks hard, and I think I see a slight glisten to his pale, sightless eyes. “Hooah.”
* * *
Wavingthe keycard over the hotel room door, I try to calm my nerves. We're alone...finally. Except for the dog, who passed the forty-minute drive stretched across both of our laps. Wren only asked one question after I slid into the back seat of the SUV next to her.
"Are we going to my apartment?"
"No, baby. Tonight, we're going to the Fairmont."
She settled then, twining our fingers and resting her head against my arm.
"Are you hungry?" I drop my duffel and her bag in the corner, set the deadbolt, and wedge the desk chair under the knob. "I can order...whatever you want." Fuck. I don't even know what she likes to eat.
"I..." She stares down at her sweater, caked with dried blood, and wrinkles her nose. "I want a shower."
Settling Pixel on the little dog bed, she shuffles off to the bathroom, but doesn't shut the door. Am I supposed to go with her? I hope I am, because I need her like I need my next breath.
Stopping short when I reach the threshold, I find her staring into the mirror.
With morbid fascination, she touches the red burns around her neck. Next, she pulls up her sleeves, wincing when she brushes the zip tie welts on her wrists.
"Wren. Look at me." Her tiny gasp is barely audible, but I feel it as I press against her back. "You're okay. We're both...okay."
"Are we?" She pulls up my shirt, and once the bloodstained wool falls to the floor, she skims her fingers around the edges of the bandage over my latest bullet wound.
"I'll heal. Always do." Reaching into the shower, I twist the knob, and once steam starts filling the room, I carefully slide her sweater over her head, then unhook her bra.
"What do we do now?" Wren wriggles out of her pants and stares up at me. Her lower lip wobbles, but she doesn't cry.
"Shower. Eat. Sleep." I run my knuckles along her cheekbone. "Make love in an actual bed?"
Her laugh soothes all my rough edges. "Oh, come on. Those were awesome sleeping bags."
"Only the best for you, sweetheart."
The water runs red at our feet for too long, but I wash her hair, and she moans softly as I massage her scalp. "What...happened here?" she asks, pressing a kiss to the deep purple bruise just above my heart.
"That's what happens when you take a shot to body armor."
"Is this...are you...?"
Fuck. She was right. I know exactly what she's thinking, and fear takes over, sharpening my tone. "This is who I am, Wren. Running Hidden Agenda. Helping people. I don't know how to do anything else."
"I don't want you to stop." Pressing her naked body to mine, she slides her hands down to cup my ass. "Just...don't hide anything from me."
