“Do I rate a spot on that list?” I ask.
“Fuck. Of course you do.” Austin pushes to his feet and heads for the sliding glass door leading out to my balcony. “Those glasses have a hell of a range, right?”
“I can still see what you’re saying. Go on.” If the man needs his space, I’ll give it to him. Even though I want to grab him and shake free whatever he’s struggling to admit.
“When I came back from Mexico with Mik, I needed help. She almost died down there, Griff.” His hands are clenched into fists at his sides, and though I can’t hear the anguish in his voice, it’s in his body language. The jerky movement of his back as he struggles to keep his breathing measured. “I love her.” Turning, he meets my gaze. “She’s my everything, and a group of asshole poachersthrew her off a mountain.”
“Fuck. Austin, I didn’t know…” Carefully gathering up both beers, I meet him at the door, and he accepts his bottle, then downs the whole thing in three gulps. The man’s in pain, and right now, it doesn’t matter that I am too.
“Because I didn’t tell you. I didn’t tell anyone until I had no choice. Until they blew up her trailer in Mexico, almost killed her grad students, and tried to murder both of us. I called Trev, and he told Dax, and when we got back to Edgewater, Dax gave me one of his guys on 24x7 surveillance. And theystillcame after Mik at the Smithsonian. If she wasn’t the smartest woman I’ve ever met—she would have died with me twenty feet away from her.”
His eyes shimmer, like he’s barely keeping it together, and I sling my good arm around his shoulders. “We’re going to need more beer. And I hope you told Mik you weren’t driving home tonight.”
The gratitude in his eyes makes me think perhaps, I’m not a total fuck-up. Even if I can’t hear, can’t shoot, can’t do my job the way I used to, I’m alive, and maybe I matter to someone.
* * *
A little after10:00 p.m., I remove my prosthetic arm and sink into my recliner with Austin across from me. He tries not to stare at the end of my stump poking out from the sleeve of my Polo shirt, but after a few minutes, I lean forward. “My eyes are up here, asshole.”
“I didn’t mean…fuck.”
Holding a straight face for even thirty seconds is damn near impossible, and I burst out laughing. A couple of seconds later, Austin joins in, though his expression is strained.
“You can look, man.” Tugging my sleeve higher, I flex the remaining muscles. “Cutting edge shit you hooked me up with. I can evenfeelwhat I’m touching. Kind of. Hot, cold, hard, soft. That sort of thing.”
“The Army, Navy, and Air Force all had an…uh…handin the development of that tech,” Austin says. “Made sense you should get the first commercially available model.”
It takes me a minute to process his words. “The first…? Austin—”
He shrugs. “I couldn’t help you through whatever shit you were dealing with. Turning you into the bionic man seemed like the next best thing.”
His grin eases the lines of strain around his eyes. This might be the first time I’ve ever seen the guy truly relaxed.
Who am I kidding? Even relaxed, he hasn’t taken off his shoes or loosened the top button on his Henley. “You do realize you’re a civilian now, right?” I ask. “Has your back even touched the couch?”
“Once.” Austin chuckles and drapes his arm over the rear cushion. “Twice, now. I’m not…good at relaxing.”
“No shit. I thoughtIwas bad.”
“You were.” His gaze shifts, focusing on his boots, and I sit up a little straighter. “I heard a little about it.”
“From who?” I’m doing my best to sound as angry as I feel, but I have no fucking clue if I’m pulling it off. “You mean to tell me youchecked up on mebut couldn’t be bothered to actuallycontactme?”
My bicep aches from the long day, and I head to the kitchen for an ice pack. Fuck. I wish I could drink myself into oblivion, but all that’ll get me is a killer hangover and even more problems.
When I turn around, Austin’s only inches away, his arm outstretched like he was about to clap me on the shoulder. I don’t think. Instinct has me sweeping my leg out to catch him behind the ankles as I jab my right fist into his gut.
He goes down—hard enough I can hear thethud—before I realize what I’ve done. “For fuck’s sake, Austin. Don’t sneak up on a guy whocan’t hear you coming.”
“Learned…that lesson. Thanks.” He coughs a couple of times, and apparently, I can still throw a punch under the right circumstances. “You should have Dax train you how to fight,” he says as he grasps my offered hand and lets me pull him to his feet. “That jab has some serious promise.”
Anynormalperson would laugh at the idea of a blind man teaching a mostly deaf man how to fight. But given what I’ve seen Dax do? He’s probably got a couple MMA titles no one knows about.
Beeping.
The software programmed into my glasses doesn’t just translate voices. It also alerts me to ambient sounds around me. Like the beeping of Austin’s phone. He pulls it out of his pocket, and almost immediately, smiles and taps the screen. “Hey, sweetheart.” There’s a pause, and then he continues, “Yeah. I’ll call a car. You go to bed. I’ll be there before midnight. I love you.”
“A car?” I ask.
