Page 54 of Peace Under Fire

What the hell? Step-siblings or half siblings were not uncommon. “Your parents divorced?”

Her mouth tightened. “We had no parents.”

Squish frowned. Cocking his head, he studied her closely. “Everyone has parents.”

“Yeah? Well, we didn’t. We had caretakers, but they weren’t our parents,” she snapped. And then clearly done with the conversation, she lay down, dragged his sheepskin jacket over her shoulders, and curled up on the seat, closing her eyes. “Wake me when we get to the airport.”

Squish wasn’t ready to let the conversation go. As Mandy’s previous confessions filtered through his mind, sourness spread through his gut. Mandy and the women she called sisters all possessed strange, almost supernatural abilities. They were being hunted by a mysterious and deadly organization. They’d been in hiding for years. There was no resemblance between the women, at least none that he could see from his admittedly limited review of the video footage. And they had no parents, merely caretakers?

The sourness migrated from his gut to his chest. A tinge of acid joined in. “Are you and your sisters related by blood?”

Mandy flinched.

“Does it matter?” Her eyes opened. She stared up at him, her gaze dark and haunted. “We might not be a family through blood. But we’re sisters through shared experiences and love. We’re sisters in every way that matters.”

He thought about that. She was right. Blood didn’t always matter, not when it came to family.

He nodded and smiled gently back at her, even as the acid in his gut and chest morphed into bile. It wasn’t the fact that Mandy and her sisters weren’t blood related that had his chest tightening and his gut churning. It was the picture forming in his mind. All the clues were coming together to form a horrifying possibility.

“You’re talking about a found family,” he said. “I get it.” And he did. “It’s the same with my team brothers. We aren’t brothers by blood. We weren’t raised together. But, fuck, I’ve gone through a lifetime of shit with them by my side. I’m as tight with them as I am with the brothers I share through mom and dad.” He nodded again. He really did get it. He’d die for Grumpy and Lucky without hesitation, just as he’d die for Shane and Robby.

Her muscles relaxing, she lifted herself up on one elbow. Relief flickered in her eyes. “And if they were captured, you’d—”

“Burn down the fucking world to get them back.” Squish didn’t try to smooth the roughness from his voice.

“Amen,” Brick said quietly, sorrow echoing in the word.

Squish thought about Lucky, about the raw emptiness without him and the sense that he was missing an essential part of himself. He still had Grumpy and the rest of his team brothers. Hell, he still had Shane and Robby. What would it feel like to lose all of them? To be completely and utterly alone? His skin burned at the thought. He’d go crazy if that happened. He’d be damn tempted to eat his Glock.

“That’s how it is with us.” Mandy settled back down on the seat, but she didn’t close her eyes. They’d gone soft and distant, like she was lost in the past. “It doesn’t matter that we don’t share blood. We share everything else: memories, history, circumstances, trust.” She paused, and then said quietly, “Enemies.”

Squish simply nodded. She looked completely drained again. The adrenaline from finding out that JoAnn had escaped the attack had worn off. Turning back around, he scowled out the windshield while the acid ate its way from his gut to his chest to his brain.

Caretakers. Not parents. She’d had caretakers. And he suspected she wasn’t talking about a nanny, or a babysitter. She’d used caretaker specifically. A cold, clinical word for a clinical upbringing.

That last truck, the one with the roll down door, had been full of medical personnel. Their interaction with the women on the stretchers had been cold and clinical. Detached. He hadn’t sensed any empathy in the way they’d treated the unconscious women. There had been no hand holding. No touching of arms or brushing back hair. Instead, they’d scrutinized the monitors laying on the women’s chests, or double-checked the straps tying them down.

Is that how she’d grown up? Not with love or empathy, but with medical caretakers and clinical distance?

Jesus—how could someone who’d grown up like that be so well-adjusted? So sunny and happy and friendly all the time? Looking back, he couldn’t remember her ever having a bad day. Or if she had, she sure as hell hadn’t shown it. Even when he’d laid all his shit on her, she’d been sweet and kind. At least until recently—until she’d given up on him.

And then there was her simple kindness, the way she’d volunteered to feed the hungry and keep the elderly company. She’d been constantly running errands for the tenants in his building, too. Pet sitting, or plant watering, or bringing people—including him—cookies and cupcakes. She was constantly helping others. She seemed to thrive on that.

She was a good person.

Shame heated his belly.

He could have been easier on her. He should have been easier on her.

CHAPTER 13

Mandy forced her heavy eyelids open. She felt like she was swaying in a warm, steely cocoon. A hazy impression of muted lights, small, oblong windows and armchairs lusciously upholstered in creamy leather came into view. Stirring, she stared down at the tanned, muscular arms encircling her.

“Well,” a gravelly voice said from somewhere above her head. “Sleeping beauty awakes.”

“What?” She let her head tip back and stared into Jacob’s amused eyes, then peeked back down again. Her knees and calves were draped across one of those brawny arms.

Good God, was he carrying her? And she hadn’t been awake to enjoy it? What a waste.

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