Page 13 of Fierce Lies
I lurched back into my office, locking the door behind me before sinking into my chair, the memory rising to the surface as I closed my eyes.
"It’s genetics. And trauma," I said, smirking as I glanced over at Pickering, who was cleaning his rifle as we waited for the go-ahead for our mission.
“He’s not wrong. Tragedy does something for the jawline.” Raynes touched his own jawline as the rest of my team chuckled and snorted, milling around the rundown kitchen of a house we were using for cover.
“Exactly! Man’s walking around with cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass and not a ring on his finger. What is this? A Greek tragedy? A missed opportunity? A bad romcom? Man doesn't belong in the field, he belongs in a magazine,” Corr commented, earning a chorus of agreements as I shook my head.
“Maybe he’s secretly married. To vengeance. That’s hot.” Blake mumbled around a mouthful of food.
“Nah, he’s married to the mission. I just think he’s emotionally constipated. Probably cries in Morse code,” Raynes quipped.
"Hey, remember, you gotta fall asleep around me at some point," I warned, causing Raynes to wink.
"Don't threaten me with a good time, Graves," he shot back.
"What is your Tinder bio anyway? It's not still empty, is it?" Pickering asked as he set his cleaned rifle down. He hoisted himself onto the counter, grinning like the overgrown child he was sometimes.
"Nah, man doesn't need no Tinder bio with that face, probably has a slew of women in his messages offering to ride it," Corr scoffed.
“‘Former Special Forces. Dead eyes. Daddy issues. Will kill for you—or near you, depending on mood.’ That’s the whole damn fantasy," Blake said, listing them off his fingers as my team all laughed.
“I’d swipe right. For protection. And probably a chance to get stabbed, let’s be honest.” Raynes blew me a kiss, making me laugh as I shook my head.
“Jesus Christ, we’re about to breach a building and you’re planning Graves' Tinder bio," Turner finally spoke up from where he'd been resting his eyes in the corner, his arm over his face.
“I’m going to pretend this entire conversation never happened.” I glanced out the kitchen window at the setting sun. Our order to move would be coming in any minute now.
“But your cheekbones heard us. And they’re blushing," Raynes added, and I rolled my eyes.
I blinked as I forced the memory down. A memory of a time before my life went to hell, when it had exploded all around me and the world had shifted.
When I'd lost everything.
I drew in a grounding breath, tapping my dog tags absently as I focused on the task at hand and not the haunting laughs of my team in my mind.
I dug deeper into Elena's financial records, making calls and searching, doing exactly what Roman would want me to do as I pushed my past deep down and bottled it away.
It didn't take long for me to find more. Monthly payments to County Hospital going back just over six months. A mortgage co-signed with her mother that had been refinanced twice in the past year. Credit card balances climbing steadily. A second job at some small diner in her hometown whilst already working full-time at her previous job. A job she was still apparently on the books for part-time, which made me frown. She was listed as working for them offsite, so I could only imagine that she was planning to do that work around her current hours with us. Or in her breaks. Whichever way, it was quite the work load.
This wasn't the background of someone financially comfortable. This was someone drowning.
The hospital payments caught my attention. Regular amounts, same day each month. I made a few calls, and it didn't take me long to have what I needed.
Anna Peters, Elena's mother, was dying. Stage four ovarian cancer. My chest tightened as I leaned back in my chair, my mind going over what I'd learned.
She didn't have a good prognosis, and the recommended experimental treatments were not something her insurance was willing to cover. And they weren't cheap at all.
Elena's shift to this workplace was making more and more sense now. The pieces were falling into place, the need to hold onto her old job alongside a new one. She'd applied for this job with it's much better pay to try to save her dying mother. A last scramble for hope, one that was a lost cause ultimately, even with two incomes.
I knew what her pay check was going to be, and it was not going to be enough, not in the timeframe she had for her mother's prognosis. Even with supplementary income. A quick look at her co-owned property revealed it was being rented, but it wasn't even covering the mortgage repayments. Maybe she could get more loans, but she was already being stretched thin.
I sighed, massaging my temple, hating the situation surrounding her.
Turning back to the security feed, I watched her at her desk. Macey was explaining something, pointing at the screen, and Elena nodded, her focus absolute. No wasted movements, no distractions. Just pure determination.
I recognized that look. I'd worn it myself. Someone who was desperately trying to find a way when everything was mounted against them.
The memory of smoke and screams tried to surface, but I pushed it back down where it belonged. That was a different life. A different me.
