Page 172 of Piece Us Together

“No. I was the head of Travis’s team. Jake and Ace were also a part of it. They had met me, but no higher. I’d met the guy above me, but no higher. I’m not sure how far the chain went. I’m not sure what’s at the top.”

It makes sense. The military and police can’t do that kind of undercover work. I know they can break up rings, lead raids, even do stings where they pretend to be a victim or perpetrator to trap others, but this is something else. I can sense the insidiousness of it. This was a deep, dark thing.

“For how long?” I ask.

Maison answers first, surprisingly. “I was recruited just under eleven years ago.”

There are so many questions. It’s a twisted, terrified mess in my head. I’d give anything for a notebook. Not only for the organizational benefit, but for something to concentrate on. Something to keep my hands busy so I don’t go grabbing at them when I don’t think the touch would be welcome.

I go with the most important ones first.

“Is it over?”

“The undercover operation?” Maison asks. I nod. “Yeah. It’s been over for a few months now.”

“Then why were you just gone? Where did you go?”

Maison’s expression twists before he shrinks back and looks away. I glance at Nolan to find him in a similar position.

“Okay. Forget my questions. I’m sorry. Just—just tell me what you can. Tell me about the operation.”

“We wanted to give all the traffickers a target. Some hero who was trying to take all of them down. It took any suspicion off of Travis if there was ever any reason for it. No one would think hewas undercover or a rat if he hated the guy as much as everyone else. If the guy kept calling him out as one of the people he planned on taking down.” Maison runs a hand through his hair, eyes downcast. “I had a different identity. They wiped my past, made it so even if someone reverse-image-searched my face, it’d show up as the story instead of reality. Then I stayed on the move. I kept myself off the grid. The only breadcrumbs they ever found were ones we planted for them.

“It also gave them a reason to work together more than they usually would. Coalitions started forming. It was the perfect mix of panic and power-hungry, and over the course of the decade, Travis systematically worked until he was chosen to lead the entire region. Having things organized made it easier to keep everyone safe. Otherwise, it’d be a little guy getting caught, ratting on a bigger guy, who would rat on a bigger guy, and so on—all under the radar because no one communicated. There’d be no warning. This way, if someone got snagged, they could handle it.”

He stops then, looking down at his hands. They’ve stopped trembling. He rubs the tip of his thumb over his knuckles, tracing the marks his pain has left behind. His voice is softer as he continues. “They hated me. God, they—I was number one on their lists. Even major players in Europe and Asia knew me, and they weren’t part of the operation area.”

“That must have been terrifying.”

His lips quirk. “It was, at first. Then I settled. I got to know the people on my team and the guy who I reported to. I started trusting them. Trusting they’d keep me safe. I created my own network of contacts. I’d figured out a way to see Carter every so often. Figured out a way to call him. It was good. It was—” His voice cracks. “It wasgood.”

“Okay. Shh. Hey. Shh.” I place a hand on his shoulder, sensing his incoming panic. “Take a breath.”

He sucks in a breath.

And then he starts to hyperventilate.

“Hey, look at me.Look.” I grab his chin, forcing him to meet my eyes. I take one of his hands and place it on my chest. “Breathe with me. Just breathe. In. Hey,in, Maison. Breathe in. Good boy. Now, out. Yeah. Like that.”

Nolan hovers by his chair as I talk him down. He’s still shivery when his breathing is even. His head is turned away again.

I can’t anymore. I can’t just sit here while he falls apart. I need more control. I need a place where we can all be pressed together, where I can hold them close.

“Come on.” I stand on wobbly legs, squeezing Nolan’s shoulder until he stands, then moving to Maison. I offer him my hand. He sees it, I know he does, but he doesn’t take it. I lower myself until we’re at eye level and grab his chin. It trembles beneath my touch. There’s terror in the blue of his eyes when they finally meet mine. Anguish. Guilt.

It’s a storm of emotions I haven’t seen in him since the pub.

I slide so easily into dom-mode, it’s almost like the first breath after having your head underwater.

“We’re going to our room, if you think you can do the stairs.”

His whole body jerks with his next inhale. He parts his lips, then stops and shakes his head. I don’t push, even though I’m desperate to know what he wanted to say.

When I offer my hand this time, he takes it.

I lead them upstairs and onto the bed, pulling Maison in so his injured side is sinking into the mattress, his stomach pressed along the length of me. I drag Nolan nearly on top of me so they can easily get their hands on each other.

One of my hands settles in Maison’s hair, gently carding through the mess of loose curls. The other settles at the base of Nolan’s spine, beginning to slowly stroke along it in soothing motions.

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