Page 40 of What Remains

I turn, forcing her to drop my shirt. I don’t need her to study the lash marks on my back like they’re a roadmap. “I assumed she interrogated most of the guys who worked for her to ensure we remained loyal and afraid. A power-trip thing over us men. Looks like she was just screwing with me all along.”

“I’m so sorry,” she whisper-cries.

“You are not allowed to feel sorry for me.” I rest my hand on her waist and pull her close to me. Great idea, I know. I’m often full of spectacular ones when we’re alone together. I just usually don’t see any of them through.

Her hands land on my chest and slide up to the sides of my neck as she frees more tears, each one destroying me. “You can tell me what to do all you want, but since when do I ever listen to you?”

“So stubborn.” I squeeze her waist. “Now, please, get out of this damn thing before I snap.”

“Want me naked that bad, do you?” She arches her brow.

I can’t believe it, but here I am, doing something so outrageous as smiling. “Such a smartass.” And if she hadn’t endured hell tonight, I might cross a line or two and swat her rear end to encourage her to hurry up and change. “Now be a—” I stop short of yet another line I can’t vault across, swallowing back the tease and letting it die a fast death in my esophagus.

“We make a pair, don’t we?”

“Oh we do, do we?” I’m slightly disturbed by the rough edge of my voice. And part of me wants that mouth of hers to be mouthy again. It’ll feel like old times. When things were less complicated.

“We do.”

“And why are we a pair?” I ask, because stupid is as stupid does tonight.

She smiles. It’s small and quick, but still nice to witness. “Because here we are talking and joking around after . . . well, everything. And it’s exactly what the doctor would order, I’m sure.” She leans in closer, forcing my hands to slide around to the small of her back. “I do need a favor, though.”

I slant my gaze down to her mouth. “And that is?”

“New stickers.” She swallows. “I’ll, um, need some.”

Doubtfully what she really planned to say, but I’m grateful she went the safe route.

“Anything for you.” I force myself to let go of her. “Now, do something for me.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Her entire mood has shifted since we’ve been up here, and I’m confused by it, but grateful. Then she even goes as far as teasing, “I’ll go be good and get naked for you.”

CHAPTER 13

Easton

Naked for me. Kill me now.

I keep my mouth shut, fighting a smile, and gesture for her to get her ass moving. Some things will never change when it comes to her. Not even during life-or-death circumstances. She can cry and need comforting one minute, then get under my skin the very next.

She’s like a stick of dynamite in a dark room. The light, the spark, and the explosion all in one. Evil’s no match for her. It can try and wear her down, and maybe she’ll be shaken up for a little bit, but ultimately, she’ll do a one-eighty and kick evil’s ass. She won’t let what happened tonight hold her back. If anything, she’ll use it as ammunition to take on the world. And she won’t quit until she’s found every last piece of shit responsible for what happened.

I have to keep that in mind, because with that attitude, she could easily wind up in danger again.

And what if I’m not there next time?

At that thought, I force myself to leave, keeping the door cracked open behind me. I head into the neighboring bedroom and shut the door to get naked myself. Gun on the dresser first, I strip to nothing on my way to the bathroom.

I take one of the quickest showers in history. I don’t want to be away from Gwen for long. But once I’ve got a towel wrapped around my hips, and I’m in front of the mirror . . .

Fuck.

I slam my hands onto the counter and go completely still. Without Gwen to distract me, the last several hours come roaring back. I stare at my reflection, searching for the good inside me I had to extinguish earlier to take out so many people.

I have no idea how many bodies I racked up from behind the yoke while in the Air Force. Missiles are impersonal weapons. When you’re cruising up in the sky, you might as well be playing a video game. You convince yourself it’s not real. That those people down below are NPCs.

But when you have to get up close and personal with death, that’s when it hits harder. And it usually pains you to be the one to take the breath from another human’s lungs. Holding someone’s mortality in your hands is a lot of power, even if they’re the enemy.