Page 86 of Beckett
She pulled back enough to look up at me. Water streamed down her face, dripping from her lashes, running in rivulets along her jaw. “You saved us. Got us out of the truck, out of the river.”
“You swam. You didn’t give up.”
“I wanted to.” The admission came out raw. “When the water was everywhere and I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see—part of me wanted to just stop fighting.”
My hand came up to cup her face, thumb brushing water from her cheek. Or maybe tears. Hard to tell. “But you didn’t.”
The water poured over us, finally, blessedly hot. I could feel my feet again, every toe a separate entity instead of frozen clubs. Audra’s skin had warmed under my hands, alive and real and here.
I adjusted the shower heads, making sure the water hit us both evenly. Audra moved closer, not quite touching but near enough that I could feel the heat radiating from her skin. We stayed like that, letting the water do its work, washing away river water and fear and the metallic taste of almost-dying.
“Your shoulder.” She reached out, fingers ghosting over a bruise already forming where the seat belt had caught me.
“Yours too.” I indicated the matching mark across her collarbone, purple blooming under pale skin.
We catalogued each other’s damage in silence. Bruises, scrapes, the thousand small injuries that came from violence and survival. But we were whole. Breathing. Alive.
Travis’s voice carried through the door, muffled but audible. “Leaving some clothes right here. Take your time.”
“Thanks,” I called back.
We stayed under the water another few minutes, neither of us eager to leave the warmth. Finally, I reached over and turned off the taps. The silence felt loud after the constant rush of water.
I spotted a cabinet, grabbed two thick white towels that probably cost more than I wanted to know. “Here.”
We dried off quietly, efficiently. The clothes Travis had left were exactly what I’d expected—T-shirts and sweatpants still in their original packaging, tags attached. I handed a set to Audra.
“Why are they…” She held up the package, confused.
“Travis goes through phases.” I tore open my own package. “Sometimes he can’t wear the same clothes twice. Contamination anxiety, though he’d never call it that. So he keeps a supply of new stuff.”
The clothes fit me well enough. On Audra, they swam. The sweatpants pooled around her feet, the T-shirt hanging past her thighs. She rolled the waistband several times and pushed up the sleeves.
“He really doesn’t like people here, does he?” She looked around the bathroom—the precise organization, everything in its exact place, no signs of regular use despite the luxury.
“Travis is particular about his space.” I gathered our wet clothes, wringing them out over the sink. “This house, the way it looks from outside versus inside—it’s all intentional. He designed it this way.”
“To keep people out?”
I shrugged. “More like to control who gets in. He doesn’t mind the Warrior Security team, but you are one of the few beyond that.”
We took our wet clothes to the laundry room, another space that looked barely used despite top-of-the-line machines. I loaded our clothes and set the timer.
“Come on.” I led her down another hallway. “His control room’s this way.”
The familiar hallway opened into the room that looked like mission control had collided with a paranoid’s fever dream. Monitors everywhere—wall-mounted, desk-mounted, some showing code, others displaying camera feeds. The exterior of the property from multiple angles, infrared and standard, motion sensors creating overlay grids.
Travis sat in an ergonomic chair that probably cost as much as a car, fingers flying over one of three keyboards. He didn’t look up when we entered.
“Lachlan’s been notified.” His eyes stayed fixed on scrolling data. “He’s heading to the bridge now with the forensics team. He’ll need statements from you both, but he said tomorrow’s fine unless you need medical attention.”
“We’re okay,” I said.
“He’s glad you’re alive.” Travis finally turned, taking in our borrowed clothes and damp hair. “Exact words were ‘Thank fuck they’re okay,’ but I paraphrased.”
Audra’s stomach chose that moment to growl, loud enough to echo in the tech-filled room.
Travis stood abruptly. “Kitchen. You need food.”
