Flick rolled her eyes. “No, I’m just going to hand this over and leave you to flounder. Of course I’m going to help, Pips.”
“Even though I was such a bitch to you?”
“Even so. Though you did redeem yourself by getting up at dawn to hold my hand.” Flick heard the wobble in her voice and told herself that she could not, would not shed another tear for that moronic man! Okay, she was going totrynot to shed any more tears...
“Have you heard from him?” Pippa asked quietly.
“Nope.”
A corner of Pippa’s mouth lifted. “At least you’re consistent, darling. You consistently choose badly.”
“Unfortunately, he wasn’t so much a choice as a compulsion. Guess Gina isn’t the only one having problems in that area.”
In Aberdeen, Kai watched as the latest group of oil ship workers left the small boardroom and his second-in-charge wiped the whiteboard clean. Mark didn’t really need him here, he had this training course firmly under control. Normally Kai was in the thick of the training but this time, with this group, he’d let Mark run the course. He was doing a damn good job and had only once, maybe twice, asked Kai for his input. He could easily leave Mark to run courses for Caswallawn. The man could handle the smaller groups with ease.
Kai nodded when Mark asked whether he wanted coffee, and when the room was empty, he closed the door. To be honest, these courses bored him; there wasn’t enough action. Yes, they were important, but he preferred to be more hands on, to be getting down and dirty. Even running that self-defense course for women back in Mercy had been more fun than this anti-hijacking course. He enjoyed doing specialized, advanced training, preparing men and women to serve and protect.
Except apparently, he hadn’t done such a good job at that since the sheik was dead... dammit, he should have insisted on more training, or that the sheik employ Caswallawn PPO’s.
Kai picked up his phone and hit speed dial two. Axl answered immediately but the video feed didn’t show his face—rather a distorted view of his laptop monitor. “Will you please stop bugging me? You are not doing rescues!”
“What?”
Axl’s face came into view and he pulled a face. “Kai. Sorry, I thought you were Reagan. Again.”
“Nope, just me.” Kai sat down in a chair and propped his feet up on the corner of the desk. “How is she enjoying her gig with Callow?”
Axl scowled. “Far too damn much. His film shoot is wrapping up but the threat is escalating and he wants to temporarily relocate to a place where no one will find him and his kid.”
“He has a kid?”
“Yeah, an eight-year-old son he’s raising. He keeps him out of the limelight. Our favorite girl suggested that he relocate to Mercy and that he rent a farmhouse outside of town. She’s moving in with him.” The muscle in Axl’s jaw clenched.
“That’s what PPO’s do,” Kai pointed out, his tongue firmly in his cheek.
“It’s still a stupid-ass idea.”
For Callow’s safety, it sounded like a damn good plan to Kai. But since Axl looked like he was about to start foaming at the mouth, he changed the subject.
“Have you spoken to Sawyer lately? How’s he doing?” he asked. He was missing his friends, missing Mercy.
Axl frowned. “He’s stressed. He’s blaming himself for not keeping Doug on the straight and narrow, for not keeping him off the drugs.”
Kai shook his head. “That’s so stupid. He was a kid—it wasn’t his job to protect Doug or to look after him. He should give himself a break.”
Axl cocked his head and looked at him. After a moment a small grin touched his lips. “That’s how we feel about you. Sawyer and I both wish that you’d give yourself a break, that you’d stop beating yourself up, that you’d giveyourselfpermission to be happy.”
Kai stared at him, feeling as if Axl’s fist was clenching and squeezing his heart. “Low blow, Turner,” he muttered.
“I don’t care if it’s low as long as it’s effective. Later.” Axl disconnected and Kai tossed his cell onto the desk, feeling his heart thumping in his chest.
Axl didn’t understand—the sheik’s death wasn’t on him. It was Kai’s fault. But Sawyer didn’t blame him, and neither did Axl. Flick agreed with his friends. They all accepted that he’d done his best, that he’d tried to dissuade the sheik from relying on his guards for protection.Hadhe?
I’m pretty sure that you did. If I know you at all then you did. Often and loudly.
Flick’s voice in his head stopped him in his tracks and he turned the words over. For the first time since the sheik’s death, he took stock of what she’d said, picked apart her sentence. Hehadinsisted, loudly and vociferously. He’d even put his concerns in writing, sending the sheik at least three emails on separate occasions—the last one just after he concluded his training—telling Aban that he wasn’t satisfied, that he was taking a huge risk. The sheik had dismissed his concerns and told him he was overreacting. Kai had done his job and he couldn’t be held responsible for the sheik’s death. Choices had been made and the sheik had paid the price. He hadn’t made that choice, and in fact, had advised against it. He was, if he allowed himself to be, off the hook.
Kai linked his hands behind his head and stared at the whiteboard, his breathing erratic. It was hard to admit that he liked punishing himself. He also liked denying himself and was far too comfortable with the notion of being alone, being unloved, believing that was what he deserved. And he was far too quick to take responsibility for events that were out of his control. Mike’s death, the sheik’s death, and his mother’s death.