“You couldn’t. You aren’t built that way.” He knew that. He’d always known. “You are loyal down to your DNA. God only knows why—not like life cut you any breaks for it. Even if I didn’t believe it where I was concerned.” A brief spark of hurt erupted from beneath the ice in her expression, and he tried to not give it too much value. “John was there. You’d cut off your arm before you set him up.”
“So that doesn’t explain letting me think you’re dead. That doesn’t explain why, when Uncle Sam cut us loose, you didn’t at lea—your stuff. That’s why it was gone from the apartment.”
Weariness settled on him, and he nodded. “Titanium had some team acquire all of our personal items. They wiped us out, let the government call us dead. Reportedly, the explosion didn’t leave much, what pieces they could identify and DNA type, they used to validate their idea we’re dead. For all intents and purposes, Gunnery Sergeant Bradley Peck died that day. Even when I woke up, I was still dead.”
When she said nothing, he continued, “So we worked. We got you guys in. We kept an eye on you, investigated—quietly. Backed your plays. Monitored movements. Who you called, who you didn’t. The mission you went on—the bad intel. It was a test.”
“Fuck you, Brad.”
“It wasn’tmyfucking test.” He tried not to snarl, but to hell with it. “Copper, I’ve been on your side. I knew it wasn’t you, but I had to have proof for them. For Titanium. My gut wasn’t enough.”
“Me damn near dying in a blown out casino—did that prove it to them? Or maybe Cobalt’s blood on my hands? Did that do it?”Pissed.Yeah, she should be pissed off.
“Yes and no.” What she’d given them was another piece of the puzzle.
“You know, I don’t need this shit.” She shook her head. “I don’t need to hear you had to find proof I didn’t fuck everyone over. I don’t give a good goddamn if Titanium believes me or not.”
“No, I know you don’t. But, the simple fact is, Red Wolf is still out there, and he’s getting our information. He knows who Steele and Chrome are—he came damn close to having their new identities. Yours was out there in the wind. We can disappear again, but they aren’t going to stop hunting you.”
“Harder to hunt dead men, I suppose.” No forgiveness. No softening of the line.
“You’re not going to give an inch, are you?”
“No.” She shook her head. “It cut out my heart to lose you. I don’t have a lot of inches left to give. I barely have a centimeter.” For a split second, her eyes shimmered.
“Fuck me, don’t cry.” He could take her yelling. He could take her icy silence. He could take her putting a gun to his head, but not her tears.
“I shed a lot of tears for you. Did you hear those while you snooped around after me in the dark?”
No. But the knowledge drove a dagger into his belly. “You slept in my shirt.” He’d seen her do it, found her in it. Seen it hanging in her bathroom. When they’d collected her from the fleabag apartment building, he’d been torn between fury and relief. “You lived like a pauper. Why the fuck did you do that?” He’d left her the bulk of his inheritance—Titanium swore to him she’d get it, even under her new identity. When they pulled her out, they’d done some fast tracking to put her money in a numbered account.
“What does it matter where I lived?” She shrugged, ignoring his comment about the shirt. Scrubbing her hands against her face, she said, “I can’t—I don’t get this. It isn’t jelling for me. You had plenty of chances to tell me…and, yeah, they threw you in a box when you tried. When did you try?”
Three times.The first time—in the days after he’d finally been able to walk without crutches. The second—the first night she’d been in the compound. The third time—the third time when she’d been in the hospital. He’d gone in there without his mask, and Tin found him. Covered for him. But they’d all known, and after that, they hadn’t left him alone.
Afterward, she wasn’t alone either.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “You’re right. I should have taken the bullet and dragged you out of the safety net. At least then you would have known the truth.”
Impatience slashed through her smile. Still, it was a smile. “Don’t do that.”
Quirking his brows, he leaned toward her. “Don’t do what?”
“Don’t make a joke.”
“Even it brings out your smile?” He’d missed her smile. “You don’t do it enough, you know. He helps. I see you do it more with him. You joke. You laugh a little, but never enough.”
The corners of her mouth curved, ever so slightly. “I haven’t had a lot to smile about, you know?”
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “I do know.”
The mask dropped over her features, and her lips flattened. “I hate this.”
“Not in love with the situation myself, sweetheart.” Giving into temptation, he slid his hand over her cheek and brushed his thumb against the smoothness of her skin. “I haven’t had a day’s peace since I woke up in hell. I haven’t stopped for a minute wanting to be with you again.”
She didn’t pull away. “I’m with Gabriel.”
“I know.” He’d had a front row seat to her falling for another man, for her making room for him. “But you didn’t bring him in. Chrome did that. John did that.”