A twitch of his left eye, which meant, she’d nailed it. “And that matters, why?”
“Because the day I supposedly sent this to you, I was a few thousand miles away in a rat-infested cell in some CIA black ops site being told I could either join up or spend the rest of my very short life right there.”
His breathing increased, but he didn’t talk. Just stared at her.
“Damn it, Brett, it’s signed Ellis. I always signed everything to you with El. You were the only one who ever called me that. It was special.”
“You were ripping out my heart. Crushing every dream we’d ever made together. Our future. I thought the lack of my nickname was apropos.”
“Or maybe, the asshole who wrote this didn’t know about it. Because he didn’t have access to the personal letters I’d sent you. So, he signed it the way I did for any other form of correspondence. But while we’re at it… Thanks so damn much for questioning it. For even a moment’s pause to consider thatmaybe, just maybe, something was seriously wrong. That maybe you should come looking for me.”
More than a twitch, now, though it probably had to do with the fact she was yelling. A few tears leaking out of her eyes as she shook that damn note right back at him.
He took a step. Just one. As if he couldn’t get any other signal through to his legs. “You told me to fuck off. What was I supposed to think?”
“That I’d never do that to you? That I didn’t give a shit who your father was?”
“Ellis—”
“I already knew!”
He froze. Breath held, gaze locked on her. Some of the color drained from his face as his expression fell. “What did you say?”
“About your father. I already knew who he was. What he’d done. I knew from the start.”
His mouth gaped opened, closed, then opened, again. He looked as if he wanted to talk but couldn’t get any of the words out.
“Seriously, Brett? I was Military Intelligence. It was my job to gather covert information. To vet every damn soldier in the units I worked with to ensure they had the appropriate security clearance for every mission. Conduct the necessary interviews and searches if they needed a higher one. Of course, I knew who your father was. I just never cared.”
He swallowed. Hard. Several times before exhaling. “But…you never said anything. Why didn’t you say something?”
“It’s called tact. I’d heard some of the men had been bastards about it. Kept asking if you if that’s why you’d joined. So you could murder people just like your old man. I assumed you’d tell me when you were ready. When you’d dealt with whatever demons were still riding you. It’s not like I had any kind of benchmark to meet with respect to family. My father left us, andmy mother was a crack addict who died when I was ten. If my grandparents hadn’t taken me in, I would have ended up on the streets.”
He was shaking his head, muttering something she couldn’t make out before he clenched everything. His mouth. His fists. His muscles. “No, that note said?—”
“All that talk about brotherhood. About never leaving a man behind. Who would have guessed it didn’t extend beyond your team. That I didn’t deserve the same courtesy. Kind of makes it poetic that you’re all so eager to help out, now. Five years too late.”
She was shaking. Barely staying on her feet, but after all this time, she couldn’t stop. Couldn’t manage to seal it up, like before. “I held out for nearly a month in that hellhole. Chained to the wall. Stripped of any form of dignity. Waiting for someone,anyone, to challenge him. To demand to know where the hell I was. Why I’d suddenly vanished. But no one did. McCormick made up some bullshit joint operations unit assignment. Got me transferred. Sent out some texts. A few emails.Thatnote. And that was it. All it took to erase my existence. To sever every tie I’d ever made. That’s when I knew—no one was ever going to come looking for me. That I either agreed to their terms, or I was dead.”
She matched his single step forward. “You’d promised me you’d always have my back. So, maybe you should be the one answering the question… Where the hell were you?”
CHAPTER NINE
Dead. That’s how Colt felt. As if the life had been sucked out of him, and he’d been left a hollowed-out shell of the man he’d once been.
Where the hell were you?
Those words. Each one, a knife to his soul. Carving away another piece until he wasn’t sure there was anything left. That he’d ever be remotely close to whole, again. Because…
Ellis wasn’t lying.
The tone of her voice, the line of her jaw. The way she trembled, even as she fought to pull herself together. Rein it all in. And then, there were the tears. She wasn’t a crier. Sappy movies. If he did something romantic. When a soldier was lost. But never as a weapon. To manipulate. Seeing her cry, now… He didn’t know what to say. If there was anything hecouldsay.
She snorted, tossing the balled-up note at him. “Now, who’s tiptoeing?” She rolled her shoulders, grimaced against the obvious pull of her stitches, but held her head high. “On second thought, forget it. I gave up believing in anything and anyone because there aren’t any happily ever afters. Love is a weakness. And only the strong survive.”
Ellis headed back to the counter, all but falling onto the stool. She grabbed her side, closed her eyes for a moment, then stiffened. He watched her push down the pain. Shoving it to some remote part of her brain that cataloged it then boxed it away. Pretended the wound on her side didn’t burn. That she wasn’t breathing rhythmically in an attempt to stay conscious. The way he’d done it a thousand times in the field.
Talk about a clusterfuck. This was wrong. All of it. Cornering her. Forcing her to talk when she was barely strong enough to stand. He’d known she was weak. Was hurting. And yet, he’d pushed because he couldn’t stand there one more minute not knowing. Wondering why it had all fallen apart. Why she’d stopped loving him when hecouldn’tstop loving her. How the hell he was going to keep her safe when he felt so damn divided all the time—constantly alternating between wanting to protect her and crucify her. He needed his head fully in the game and, for that, he’d needed answers.
