Page 84 of Shane

Third question: How had Astor tracked Tuesday from Dallas, through the various vehicle changes Everlee had run them through, into Arkansas? It didn’t seem possible. What’d Astor have, her own damn satellites overhead? He doubted that. Some kind of tracking device? A drone? But drones required technicians behind the lines to track and report, to deploy armament. Made no sense unless Astor had satellites. But satellites were expensive, were federally controlled, and Shane was certain Tuesday hadn’t been wearing any kind of tracking device.

He seriously doubted Astor had more tricks up her sleeve since she was no-kidding dead. But if she did? If she had an accomplice, someone else in the shadows running interference, or worse, facilitating her ongoing crime spree against Tuesday? Shane wasn’t worried. The Corps hadn’t squandered time or money training him, and no Marine needed weapons to deal with Astor’s lackeys. Astor’s ghost and her ghost operatives could take that to the bank—or shove it up their asses.

Mental note to self:Ask Alex. He’ll know. Better yet, ask Mother.

Shane fell asleep thinking about Everlee and Blade, Dolly and Molly, Mother and Tuesday and… something called forever.

Chapter Thirty

Everlee woke, groggy and disoriented, stiff and sore. But still breathing. Still alive. Which was more than she’d expected when Astor got that lucky shot off. Nothing hurt too badly. Her chest was tight and her side was tender and achy. But she didn’t feel like moving just to find out how bad off she was. The room was dark. Slivers of sunlight slanted through the blinds where Shane and Alex were seated, maybe eight, nine feet away. Both had their heads tilted toward the other and were murmuring in voices so low she couldn’t make out what they were talking about. Or maybe she’d gone deaf. Maybe she should sign for them to speak up.

Later.

With a sigh, she relaxed and gave in to the fog in her head. She was alive and safe. Shane and Alex were both there. That was all that mattered.

The next time she came to, her two favorite men were still there. Must’ve meant she was okay, at least going to be okay if they were hanging around. She vaguely remembered Shane getting shot in Astor’s suite, not much of what happened afterward. The big dumbass had confronted Astor. He’d made himself a target, for Pete’s sake! And he did that to save Tuesday. Which had left Everlee exposed. Which was damned dirty trick.

But not exactly damned dirty. Not Shane. The second her brain had jumped to that conclusion, it didn’t feel right. He hadn’t wanted Tuesday to kill Astor, that was why he’d shifted in front of her like he had. Shane was honorable. He’d rather carry the hashmarks on his soul for killing Astor. He’d trusted Everlee to have his back, which was why she’d gotten shot. Because he’d honestly thought she could take care of herself. And most times she could’ve. But most times, she would’ve been a helluva lot sharper than she’d been up in that damned penthouse suite with all those dead men and their dead eyes and—

She swallowed hard. Yeah, her getting shot was her fault. Tuesday probably could’ve taken care of herself, but Shane hadn’t known that. He wasn’t there when Everlee and Tuesday talked about how she’d survived the Arctic. He had no idea how good a shooter she was.

And like Alex said, Shane was built. The man was wider, thicker, taller by at least a foot, bigger boned, and heavier than either Everlee or Tuesday. Hell, than both of them put together. But sure as shit, the miniscule correction he’d made to protect Tuesday, a correction he damned well should’ve made, allowed Astor a shot at Everlee. For the life of her, Everlee didn’t know if she’d fired at Astor at all. How embarrassing. Maybe she was the dumbass. She had been shocked seeing all those murdered men. Those bodies. Her reflexes were trashed that night and her confidence, too. Shane hadn’t reacted to the scenes in that penthouse like she had, but he’d probably seen a lot of ugly stuff overseas. Right? Which made Everlee the weak link, the inexperienced. The fraud. As usual.

She ran a quick tongue over her chapped and cracked lips. Her poor tongue felt as thick and dry as cotton. She needed a good, long drink. But the second she lifted her head, intending to at least balance on her elbows, both Shane and Alex shot to their feet. All at once, Shane was on her left, filling a clear plastic glass full of water from a pink plastic pitcher with bright pink flowers around its neck like a lei. A bendy straw was sticking out of the hole in its top. He eased his free hand under her neck, just enough to tilt her forward as he put the straw on her lip.

Jiminy Christmas.Water never tasted so sweet. She sucked in a big gulp before he pulled the glass away. “Easy does it, Ev. Breathe a little. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I… am… breathing,” she rasped, her throat sorer that she’d expected. Damn, she was tired. Just sipping a tiny drink wore her out.

“What am I going to do with you?” Alex asked gently.

Like she hadn’t heard that before. Everlee licked her lips, top and bottom, then licked them again because they were so tight, they hurt. Shane didn’t ask, just popped the cap off a tiny tube of lip moisturizer with his thumb and smoothed it gently over her lips until they were nice and greasy and....

Ah.It was funny how the tiniest things mattered at times like this.

Everlee sagged back into the pillow, her energy spent. “Talk to me, big guy. What happened? Did you get her?” she meant to ask. But her voice came out hoarse and she sounded like an old woman. She cleared her throat, which hurt, damn it.

“Take it easy,” Shane cautioned. “You had a tube down your throat. It’s bound to be sore.”

Alex had taken a seat on one corner of the bed, his knee bent toward her, one hand on his ankle, his other foot on the floor. As usual, he was dressed like a savvy businessman, his suit dark gray, probably bespoke. He could certainly afford it. The red silk tie at his neck was undone and loose under his collar, as were the top buttons of his black dress shirt. The exposed triangle of skin on his chest was tanned and smooth. Everlee could envision Kelsey snuggling there. Which was where she belonged. Kelsey, not Everlee.

His dark hair was clipped short on the sides, longer on top. Clearly, he’d run his fingers through it a time or two, probably in exasperation that she’d fouled up another mission. It was messy and spiked, not the usual tidy look of her OCD boss. He’d aged nicely. The only signs of stress in his life were the hints of silver at his temples. His eyes were still razor sharp and as startling blue as ever. She knew he had a photographic memory, which had made him the genius he was. Why he’d ever invited her to move to his new TEAM HQ, Everlee would never understand.

But there she was, the least valuable of all his physical assets.

Then there was Shane, the same height as her boss, but a few years younger. Both were lean, not massive heavy weights like Zack, Mark, and Beau. More agile like most agents on The TEAM. Shane carried more bulk in his chest than Alex, and he had the same commanding attitude. Guess that was what USMC training did.

Yes, she’d served, like Shane, but never in combat. Never in the chaos of firefights. She recognized now that was the biggest difference between them and her. She could talk a good story, but she lacked hands-on experience, the pain and struggle that honed good military men and women to be all they could be. It was time she admitted her deficits and started looking for a different line of work. She’d run this race as far as she could. She’d done good, but she’d never be as good as Shane. It was time she faced the truth.

With one last quick lick over her ragged bottom lip, Everlee gave up the fight and sagged into her pillow. Shane had stashed the lip moisturizer by then.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” he asked as he took a seat alongside Everlee on the bed, in pretty much the same pose as Alex. Like bookends. Only Shane was closer and sexier.

Everlee’s cheek puffed out a heartfelt sigh, wishing she didn’t have to remember. “Bodies. Blood. So many eyes…” Dead men’s eyes. All staring at her. Which was why she’d chosen to stand next to them, instead of by the exit. Because those guys couldn’t stare at her then. They hadn’t been positioned to see her beside them. Not like her mom...

She licked her lips again, trembling as the horrific memory from long ago crushed her.

“You left some things out of your personnel file,” Alex said quietly.

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