He tugged her close and kissed her again. “You are amazing. No, we’re good. I mean, I’m pretty sure it’s just the one guy here in town, and he’s not in any shape to come after me again in the near future. I’ve got Asher and Zane if I need backup. I’m not ruining the weekend.”
“Just let me know, okay? Whatever you need,” she repeated, and he knew she would drop everything if he asked. Which is why he wouldn’t ask.
“Thanks,” he said softly before kissing her again. “Do you mind hopping in with one of the others when they go back to the hotel, then we’ll head to the wedding together? I’ll be on the phone all afternoon, not great company for you.”
“Of course,” she said, holding his jaw and brushing her thumb over his lips one last time.
15
It’s not rocket science
Rock.Hardplace.Welcometo hell. Trace felt as useless as a sunroof on a submarine. Cole had spent all afternoon on the phone, and he didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. Instead, he seemed to think life should go on as normal.
Getting into scrapes as a rebellious teenager was one thing. Running, fighting, whatever his plan was, with truly awful criminals who had tortured him was something else entirely.
So what was she to do? Trace wasn’t a mercenary or a Navy SEAL. She was really nailing her hostage squats lately, so at least her quads would hold out if she got captured.
Ugh. Trace kept one ear trained on Cole’s conversations while getting ready for the wedding.
The skimpy getup didn’t go at all with the dress. It had nothing to do with the fact that she would have felt ridiculous, hanging out with her friends while her vagina was catching the breeze.
When summer came, Trace would mourn the loss of boot season. In front of the hotel mirror, she turned in a circle. Old Trace neutral was pastel and khaki. New Trace neutral was chocolate suede knee-high boots with an earthy green slip dress. A brush of sparkly stuff on the eyes, moody liner, kissable lip gloss, hair actually cooperating—Irish hair thrives in rain—and she liked the woman looking back.
Trace stepped out of the sink-closet area outside the bathroom, into the wee entry and leaned against the wall at the corner. Last time she’d checked on him, Cole had been pacing in front of the windows. Before that he’d been sitting on the foot of the bed with his hand scrunched in his hair. Whatever had happened in town had been a huge shock to his boss, apparently.
No “dickwad tuxes or ties” to Asher’s wedding, per the instructions. Cole had been grateful, and had stepped up his look with a black button-up and leather boots with his jeans. Of course, he knew how to bring it, and had fixed his hair, but it was wild now, after another stressful call.
Standing in front of the window, one hand in his pocket and the other holding the phone, he huffed a sigh and stepped back to adjust his footing. “Thanks. I’ll let my parents know to expect a few security guards… I’ll drive home first thing in the morning… The second you know anything, call me, alright? I want to know how the hell they found me and why.”
As he lowered the phone and tossed it on the bed, he turned and halted mid-breath. His shoulders visibly untensed and mouth drifted into one of those slow, necessary smiles.
He crossed straight to her and joined his hands with hers.
Trace rose to her toes and nuzzled into his neck, breathing in the vacation scent of him. Different from home. Sandalwood hotel soap instead of her lavender shampoos. Cool, salty air infused into his pores.
Easing back, she looked up at him and touched another light kiss. “I am so sorry.”
He shook his head and looped his arms around her middle. “No, I’m sorry. This shit isn’t supposed to happen. I had so many layers of protection, so I could come home and never need to look back.”
“Your boss doesn’t know how they found you?”
“Everything looks tidy on his end. When a job’s done, I hand over all my intel, wash my hands of it, and essentially erase any targets from my back.”
“And you can’t think of any reason they might be after you anyway?”
“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I was in deep cover, infiltrated, convinced them that I was one of them. They were… displeased with me.”
“They didn’t already get their revenge? I…” For his sake, she needed to say it. To make sure he knew he had an ally in her, knowing how afraid he was to let her parents know what all he had done. To make sure he knew that she would never fully understand what he’d gone through, but that she was here for him. “I was under the impression that they tortured you?”
He released one of her hands, then the other, and moved to sit at the foot of the bed. Elbows on his knees, he looked into nowhere. “They did. Fucking broke me. If revenge is what they’re seeking, they got it. Believe me.” He rubbed his hands over his face and sat up straight. “My work was able to track down Guillaume—my friend from this afternoon. He spent a few hours getting patched up at the hospital under an assumed name, no assault charges were filed, then straight to PDX airport. The trail ran cold from there, but unless he’s stupid enough to fly from Portland to Seattle to get to Foothills, he’s probably not going to bother us anymore. From the conversation part of our encounter, he didn’t sound like he had much loyalty toward his employer, so good chance he’s not heading back to work, either.”
“I heard you saying they’re sending security to look after my parents?”
He nodded.
“What about you? Don’t you get a security team? What if it had been more than one today?” If she didn’t know him better, she might think he was cracking a smirk.
He wrapped his hands around her hips and fell into a full-on grin. “See, the thing is, they might not be as free in their words if they think someone else is watching. Whenever you’re not with me, you’ll have security. Until this is sorted out.”
