Page 83 of The Wrecked One

I had two choices. Lie or deflect. She didn’t give me a chance to do either.

“I thought the walls were gone by the lake. In the tub. On the couch in front of your dad. You let me in. But they’re back, and it’s breaking my heart.”

Mya having a broken heart shattered mine into a million fucking pieces, but I couldn’t mend hers without fixing mine, and it wasn’t reparable. “I never removed the wall, I just lowered it. Guess I’m more like one of those dividers in an old-school limo than bulletproof glass in a fancy Tahoe. But yeah, it’s back up, and it has to stay there.”

“The fact you can make a joke is both maddening and encouraging. You still have your humor, but I get the feeling you’re using it to mask your pain. Again. Now that I know everything, I’m guessing?—”

“That I was never actually funny.” I did it again, didn’t I? It was a knee-jerk reflex I’d learned over the years. She was right. It was my way of handling the unhandleable. Shit, was that even a real word, or was Mya still rubbing off on me?

“See.” She waved her hand between us, her fingers brushing across my chest in the process.

The glass door sliding open saved me from having another quick reaction I might regret—to draw her into my arms and never let go.

“Why don’t you two come in and eat? We have sandwiches made.” Dad’s girlfriend hung back, giving us space while calling us in.

I sighed, thinking back to the lake. “I guess there’s never a wrong time for sandwiches.”

“So, how’d you two meet?” Mya filled the awkward silence between bites of our ham and cheese sandwiches, acting as though we hadn’t had an earth-shattering conversation about our enemies, pigeons, and John Wick-like bad-guy hotels less than an hour earlier.

I had no clue how she kept soldiering on with a brave face, but the woman redefined the meaning of strong, that much I knew.

“In Montana. He was visiting a friend of his who worked at my family’s ranch, and we sort of hit it off.” Cindy sipped her whiskey neat, eyeing my father with a sly smile. Yeah, I didn’t want to know more than that. Her smile alone told me the story involved a lack of clothes at some point.

T-the fuck-M-I for sure since he was my old man. Too much information.

Cindy hiked a thumb toward Malcolm. “But this guy here had recently convinced Sam to move up to Canada and help him restore this inn. I decided to come with him, and we’ve been here ever since. We do visit my ranch whenever we have a chance, though.”

“Malcolm owns half the land up here. As a thank-you for my manual labor”—Dad gestured toward the roof as if he had something to do with fixing it, which was doubtful—“he gifted me some property.”

“Your cabin. Ah, now the pieces of the puzzle make sense.” Mya and her puzzles. Dad’s cabin was an easy one. The one she was about to try and complete involving The Collective was going to give me both an ulcer and a heart attack.

“Either of you have kids?” Mya asked after finishing her glass of wine.

I’d opted to stick to water. I had to be alert in case shit hit the fan again. And I didn’t trust that a few glasses of bourbon wouldn’t lower my walls again right after I’d just promised Mya they’d be remaining in place.

“No children,” Vanessa confirmed. “Work was our baby for a long time. I was a prosecutor in Atlanta for almost two decades, while this guy was flying jets for the military. Time just got away from us, as time tends to do.”

“I can relate.” Cindy refilled her glass and offered more wine to Mya, but she thanked her and declined. “Horses were always my kids.”

At the vibration in my pocket, I excused myself from the table as the conversation continued and checked the message. I’d already programmed a few numbers into the disposable phone Malcolm had given me, and it was a text from Carter.

Carter: Easton and Teddy disposed of the problem.

So, they killed the guy. I was okay with that given they’d been trying to take Mya from me.

Carter: I think it’s best if they join you tonight and you all head out together tomorrow.

I’d have to ask our hosts, but I doubted they’d mind having two more operators on hand to defend us in case our location was somehow compromised.

Me: Yeah, okay. Anything about Steve?

Carter: That’s the other reason I’m texting. Knowing he wouldn’t make it in time, he sent a friend to his mom’s house ahead of him. The place was on fire when his former SEAL buddy arrived. It was supposed to look like an accident from a kitchen fire.

Doubtful those types of orders from the Sorens were sent by a “carrier pigeon,” but a fucking phone call instead. I pinched the bridge of my nose, hanging my head. After giving myself a second to cool off, I read his next message.

Carter: They survived because of Steve’s friend. Pulled them out in time. Some bad burns, but they’ll be okay. Steve’s already taken them from the hospital before anyone can go after his mom and sister again. They’ll be going into hiding together.

Thank God for good news. I was still angry at Steve for risking Mya’s and Gwen’s lives, but it was hard to hate the man. Hadn’t I been in that same situation? Willing to take one innocent life to save another. At least Steve hadn’t actually had to take that life himself. If nothing else, I could be grateful he wouldn’t bear the same guilt I did.

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