Page 68 of Beat of Love
“You’re right,” he said, striding over to a wooden chest tucked beneath the overhang.
He lifted the lid, and she stepped closer to peer around him.
“Oh. It’s empty.”
“What did you expect? Treasure?”
She swatted his arm, more playful than irritated, buoyed by the hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. “Don’t tease,” she warned, though her tone lacked any real bite.
But his smile faded, and he turned away, crossing to the railing. He braced his hands on the top rail and lowered his head, chin to chest. “They want me to go back,” he said quietly.
Confused by his statement, she stepped up beside him. “Go back?” she echoed. But even as she said it, she caught on. “Brazil?” The word rasped out of her, barely audible. Horror prickled down her spine at the thought of him returning to that godforsaken place.
A place where he’d almostdied.
“I met with the DEA yesterday. They’re planning the takedown of the cartel. Need my input — in country.” His voice was low and flat, stripped of emotion.
Speechless, heart crimping, she could only stare at the back of his head. Shadows from the overhead branches played over the ink at the base of his neck.
She swallowed hard. “I don’t know what to say,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
But it was a lie. She wanted to throw herself at him and beg him to stay. Instead, she went with, “Do you …wantto go?”
He twisted his neck to look at her. “No.” Then he dropped his head again, moving it from side to side. “But theyneedme.”
“Fuck them and what they need,” she snarled.
Rafferty let out a slow breath, still staring at the trees. “They say I’m the only one who knows the terrain. The layout. The people.” He gave a bitter half-laugh. “Unfortunately, that’s what happens when you spend months embedded in their operation.”
She could sense the war inside him — the sense of duty, the scars that hadn’t healed. To her, the latter outweighed the former. She reached for his hand, slow and deliberate. “You’ve done enough.”
He looked down at her hand over his, the silence stretching again, this time heavy with choice. “I keep thinking if I say no, I’m a coward. Which I am, come to think of it. The idea of facingheragain …” A shudder rippled through him, and his voice cracked as the words tumbled out, “Ican’t, Red, I just … I can’t.”
He sank to his knees like the pressure had finally buckled him. His head hung low, breath shuddering in and out as if the air itself hurt to draw.
Brandy dropped down before him without hesitation, wrapping one arm around his shoulders, the other lightly on his chest. “Listen to me,” she said, her voice low, steady. “You don’t owe them a damn thing. You gave years of your life. You bled for them. You broke for them. And still, they want more?” She pressed her hand flat over his heart. “You survived something no one should’ve. That doesn’t make you a coward — it makes you a fucking miracle.”
His breath hitched, but he didn’t look up.
She leaned closer, her lips near his ear. “You tell them to go fuck themselves.”
A choked laugh escaped him — and then he shattered.
The sobs tore through him, deep and guttural, the kind that came from someplace so wounded, so raw, it nearly unmoored her.
Her chest tightened, her own breath catching as she moved with instinct more than thought. She wrapped both arms around him, cradling his head to her shoulder as he doubled forward, every shuddering breath shaking them both.
She said nothing. Didn’t try to soothe with words. What could she say to a man coming apart under the burden of so much hidden pain? Her heart broke with every ragged sob he gave. She’d never imagined he would fall apart so completely. But now that he had, she wasn’t going to let him fall alone.
So, she held him. Fiercely. One hand threaded into his hair, the other pressed against his back, steady and warm.
His sobs slowed gradually, tapering into broken breaths that rasped against her neck. He stayed curled into her, his weight heavy, but no longer collapsing. Just clinging.
She kept her arms around him, feeling the way the tension began to loosen in his muscles, how his breathing evened out bit by bit. His hand fisted around the hem of her shirt like he needed to know she wouldn’t vanish if he let go.
A breeze stirred through the trees above, cooler now. Somewhere close, an insect buzzed, and the ordinary sounds of the day returned, quiet but grounding.
She pulled back just enough to look at him, brushing her fingers lightly through his hair.
