He waited, but she sat there, staring at the wall. “El?”
She blinked, seemed to zone back in. “I need to check something out. Are you up for a drive?”
“After you tell me what this is about.”
“It’s a long story. And I don’t even know if my hunch is correct.” She waved off his attempt to question her. “It’s easier if I just get a few more facts before everyone starts to panic.”
He stood, staring down at her. “Oh, so, we’ll be panicking, now?”
She sighed then rose beside him. “Can we just go? Please?”
Damn, not only had she said please, but the way she was looking at him. Wide eyes. Glassy. As if she was holding back tears. Slightly downturned lips. Not a frown. More like she was trying not to let them quiver. And she was tense—her body primed for a fight. It was about as much vulnerability as the woman had shown since arriving on his doorstep—other than maybe last night. Lying beneath him. Asking him to hold her just a bit longer.
He shoved his hand through his hair. “Even if I say no, you’ll go without me, won’t you?”
Ellis winced, looked down at her closed hand then up to him. “It’s extremely important, Brett. And the truth is, I’d rather not go alone.”
Well, shit.
Colt pushed out a breath, wishing it would stem the nervous roll of his stomach. Because he had a very bad feeling where she wanted to go involved McCormick. Which meant men. Guns. All aiming at her. “Just answer me this…”
She arched one brow.
“Is this trip going to save your ass, or get it killed?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
If tension could kill, Ellis would be dead. Crushed by the sheer weight of it suffocating the interior of the Jeep as Colt wove through the streets toward McCormick’s private storage depot.
She hadn’t told him that’s where they were going. Hadn’t given him any details other than the address. He’d looked it up on the GPS, frowned then started the vehicle and joined the evening traffic.
And he hadn’t spoken a word since.
It didn’t take her operative skills to know he was edgy. Worried. Not about himself. Over a dozen years in the Army—a decade of that with Delta Force—had bled out any form of self-preservation. He went into every op fully expecting to die for the cause. And she knew the same applied here, whether it was a conscious thought or not. It was simply ingrained in him.
Which meant the white knuckles. The slashes of red on his cheeks. The narrowed sideways glances and occasional huffed breaths were because of her. He was worried she’d get hurt. That he’d somehow fail her.
Correction. Fail her, again.
That part was on her. On how she’d handled her reaction to the note. Throwing the blame back at him when she’d knownthat it would have taken something extremely damning to make him bolt. Accept her departure without a word.
And she’d been right. That letter…
The words still haunted her. The outraged tone. The accusations. But more than that, she couldn’t erase the look on his face. His wide, tortured eyes. Grim mouth. The deep groves across his forehead. He’d been shocked. Horrified. Then overwhelmed with guilt. And something had shifted inside her. Like a lock tumbling over. Setting her free.
She’d been seeing the entire situation in a different light, since. Had realized that it had cost him just as much. That his wounds ran just as deep.
Not that the knowledge was much help. Brett wasn’t easily swayed. Simple words weren’t going to ease his conscience. He needed actions. Redemption by saving her ass a few more times. Chances he’d most likely get because what she had in mind…
It was borderline suicidal. But necessary.
She glanced at her hand. That chip. Brett was right. She suspected it was from a motherboard. Specifically, the missile guidance systems she’d acquired on her last mission—the ones the assholes kept asking her about. No way that was a coincidence. But every scenario that sprang to mind made her head spin. Because they were all bad. Epically bad.
His hand landed on her thigh. She glanced over at him, inhaling sharply. The man was stunning. His golden hair gleaming in the setting sun—highlighting streaks of copper and platinum. Blue eyes bright. Focused on her. His skin had taken on a more bronze tone—a trick of the red hues streaking the horizon.
He smiled, and her stomach dropped. Christ. “We’re here.”
She blinked, more than once to get her eyes to adjust to her surroundings, instead of him. He’d pulled up a block away, the top of the building rising above the surrounding stores. Itwasn’t prime downtown. More of an industrial park on the edge of the south side. Definitely not the kind of place you’d suspect to house a top-secret facility. But that’s how McCormick rolled. Hiding in plain sight.
