Page 92 of The Wrecked One

“Two attempts, Mya, two fuc—” Oliver cut himself off and slapped the now visible vein at the side of his neck.

We were in the back seat of a blacked-out Range Rover. Teddy and Easton were in the vehicle behind ours, and Carter and Jesse were in the other one in front. They had us boxed in like we were the prize to protect. There were also two armed men in the driver and front passenger seats of our vehicle, courtesy of The Sapphire. There was also a Reaper over our heads. I only knew of the armed drone because of the precision strike I’d witnessed twenty minutes earlier. That guardian angel took out the kill team sent to try and intercept us before we could arrive.

I’d been resistant to having people I didn’t know and trust chaperone us on our trip to the hotel. But The Sapphire took their concierge service to the next level, proving they had all their guests’ backs, quite literally.

Somehow, watching those three vehicles blow up didn’t rattle me. Go figure.

It had shaken up Oliver, though, especially since there’d been a prior attempt made against us before we’d made it to the airport back in Canada.

His smiles and oddly unbothered attitude from before had gone out the window when we wound up pinned down en route to the airport.

Oliver, Teddy, and Easton had taken down that hit squad with almost the same precision as the Reaper had. Oliver had also put one in a guy’s head just before we took off, joining me in the back seat as he used his T-shirt to wipe the splattered blood from his face.

Realizing Oliver had no plans to continue his line of thought or his curse, I did my best to hit reset on the conversation. “How about you start that sentence again, but without both your voice and your blood pressure raised?” I averted my attention away from him and out the window, taking in the view of the Rhine River. We’d just passed through Schaffhausen, a Swiss town near the German border, and we were a few minutes away from being on safe ground. Well, presumably “safer” ground than where we were in the no-man’s land surrounding The Sapphire.

“They don’t care about keeping you alive anymore, and that was the only reason I was able to tolerate the idea of you coming on this field trip with me.”

Field trip? “Well, thankfully I have you to keep me alive since I wasn’t banking on the Sorens to protect me.” I tried not to be snarky, but out it came. I also had to choose my words carefully since we had two outsiders up front.

I’d nicknamed them in my head Jekyll and Hyde—no idea why—and despite the fact they’d yet to speak any English, I figured they spoke multiple languages and understood us perfectly. Most Europeans did.

“You should not be here.” Oliver’s ability to state words as if they each had their own punctuation mark at the end had become an art form over the last twenty-four adrenaline-fueled hours.

Of course, given our situation, I could hardly blame him. I’d done the panicking pre-skydive the other day, and he was taking over the anxiety reins now.

“Yet, here I am.” I swiveled around in the seat, wondering if I needed to take a softer approach instead of my typical reaction to fight fire with fire. “Everything will work out, or Camila would’ve told Carter, right?”

I didn’t understand the prophetic visions Carter’s sister-like best friend had, but considering how many times Camila had saved our lives because of them, I was a believer. And since Camila had yet to alert us to danger, I was going to cling to the hope we’d be okay. I’d ride the calm train as long as possible, at least.

I unbuckled and reached between us for his leg, attempting to redirect him before the vein at the side of his neck actually popped. “How’s your knee? Shoulder?”

“You can’t deflect your way out of this one,” he rasped.

“I can certainly try.” I attempted a smile, along with an innocent shrug. “Would it help distract you if I’m the one on edge and falling apart instead?”

“I’m not falling apart,” he grumbled, the insult from my remark cutting lines across his forehead. “And how are you so calm after a drone just blew up three vehicles of bad guys trying to kill us?”

“Because they didn’t get a chance to kill us, and I’m also just . . .” Tired? Literally, maybe from jet lag. Also, very much figuratively.

Oliver reached for my hand on top of his leg and gently squeezed it before moving it to my leg and letting go. Adding insult to injury, he noted, “I can’t share a bedroom with you at this hotel. A suite with adjoining rooms has been arranged. You’ll be with Sydney. Two queen beds. I’ll be by myself in the other bedroom.” He’d spoken so matter-of-factly, like an officer handing out quartering orders.

“Way to deflect right back.” I also knew his whiplash change in conversation was for his benefit, not mine. He was trying so desperately to power up that limo window between us, and ignore the fact the button was broken. “But yeah, okay, sure. Separate rooms is fine with me.” I’d give him that victory. Distract him with a little compliance while I worked behind the scenes to figure out a way to keep him out of some Mortal Kombat matchup with Hugo Soren.

“Okay?” His shock powered up that word, nearly turning it into three syllables. “I’m sorry, but what?” He looked left, then right, exaggeratedly twisting his whole body. “Would the real Mya please stand up?”

He really was right the other night when he’d said it was effortless to slip back into the past and just be ourselves around each other. Our BT-selves. This act of his, where he tried to convince us both that after the showdown with our archenemy ended, we couldn’t be together, was ten times harder for him to stick to. You never were a great actor.

He blew out his cheeks and settled face forward in his seat as we rolled up to the gates of the property. “In general, we should keep our distance while here, too.” He was trying to stamp out my hope, understanding he’d accidentally been his old self again.

“Oliver?”

Refusing to give me his full attention, he turned to look at me over his shoulder, the forlorn look in his eyes unmistakable.

“You’re trying so hard not to be yourself with me.” In a soft voice, I couldn’t help but whisper, “If something is that hard to do, maybe it’s time you ask yourself if it’s the wrong thing to do.”

Inside Carter’s suite in the wing on the seventh floor, Mason nearly knocked Sydney over as he rushed to get to me. His nostrils flared as he stared at me, waiting—and hoping—for me to give him permission to touch me.

I nodded, and he crushed me against him, nearly forcing the pent-up air in my lungs from my mouth. I rested my chin on his shoulder as he hugged me, catching sight of Oliver as he followed Carter and Jesse around us, heading to where the rest of the team quietly stood waiting for us.

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