Page 9 of Redeeming Meg

His waking moments with the ring of her hateful accusations.

Her hate, period.

For what he’d done.

For what hehadn’tdone.

Saved Meg at the expense of Jessie. Saved the woman he loved by sacrificing one of the teammates they’d both sworn to protect.

He and Spence rounded another corner. People of all ages huddled together for warmth. Their pale, thin, and dirty bodies were unnaturally still. Many didn’t even appear to be breathing.

Some days—hell, most of them—he wished he wasn’t. That he could go back in time and offer himself in exchange for Jessie. Meg would still hate him if he were dead, but maybe she’d still love him, too.

The tunnel narrowed to an entrance with metal bars. The kid began outlining his favorite Van Damme film, complete with more punches, kicks, and quotes from his hero. With his lithe body, he slipped through the bars easily, but Declan and Spence had to remove their jackets and holstered guns to squeeze between them.

Even then, Declan had to suck in his breath as hard as he could to pass his muscled upper body through the tight space. It was touch and go, Spence egging him on when he got stuck. He had to stretch his arms overhead, sucking in his stomach but keeping his ribs from flaring in order to become like one of the bars himself.

Spence and the kid both tugged on him from the other side, the kid grabbing his thigh while Spence grabbed his belt. “One, two, three,” Spence said.

Declan sucked in another deep breath and imagined himself being as skinny as the two of them. They yanked and tugged, and it hurt like hell, but finally, he broke through to the other side. Off balance, he tumbled to the slippery, wet stones, his knee barking when it hit hard.

He heaved a couple of deep breaths before getting to his feet. He’d probably have bruised ribs tomorrow.

“Put on a few pounds, have you?” Spence joked.

He accepted his coat and weapon from him. “I’m at fighting weight, just like always.”

“Sure you are, mate.”

“Van Damme always lean,” the kid told him. “You should be more like him.”

Slipping on the holster before donning the jacket, he cocked his chin at the kid to get going. A set of iron steps led to a utility tunnel with pumps, pipes as big around as a man, and intricate groupings of valves.

As they cleared the top, his breath whooshed out at the sight of who awaited them.

He’d known he would see her after nearly a year of forcing himself not to interfere in her retirement. Had prepped himself for this very moment when they’d come face to face again.

What a joke.

Nothingcould prepare him for seeing her up and close and personal, even after all this time.

She was thinner, her hair longer. She’d pulled the lush blond strands back in a ponytail, emphasizing her cheekbones and heart-shaped chin. Her eyes, always serious, had that haunted look that made him want to drop to his knees.

He wasn’t the only one tortured by Jessie’s death. Meg had always been wary and on guard, but after that night, the tormented, anguished expression had never left her.

Even now, after she’d been formally cleared of any wrongdoing, had gone through months of therapy, and had jetted off to exotic locals to rest and recoup, she looked as anguished as he felt.

Spence charged forward, lifting her off the ground. “There you are.” He hugged her hard, Meg stiffening in his embrace. Spence didn’t seem to care. He set her back but didn’t loosen his hold on her as he scanned her from head to toe. “Gods, you look good. All tan and such. What beach have you been gracing, sunshine?”

She pulled away, giving him a faint smile. “Good to see you, too.”

Contessa Vulpe was with her.

Interesting.

“Tess.” Spence offered a hand to The Architect. “It’s been a minute, eh, luv?”

“Get over here, you,” she said, throwing her arms around his neck. Then she turned to Declan. “Quit frowning, Dec. You look constipated.”

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