Page 55 of Tabitha

I nearly stumble away from the hatred swirling like a toxic mix in his jade green eyes and press a hand against my stomach when it feels like I’ve been gutted by a rusty butter knife. When he takes a step toward me, I leap back, my skin feeling like bugs are crawling over it at the thought of him touching me. “Don’t. If you touch me, I’m afraid that I might hurt you.”

When Gage opens his mouth, I lift my hand and shake my head. “I understand. You and the others will renew your search for McNeil, and I’ll handle Banks and his men. The sooner we complete our mission, the sooner you and the others can be free of me.”

Chapter Seventeen

GAGE

Fucking hell.

I drag my fingers through my hair, unable to get over the sinking sensation that I seriously screwed up. I thought the little hellcat could take care of herself, especially after her masterful escape at the café, but my heart wrenched when all the light in her eyes just died, leaving behind nothing but a mask of emptiness that I so often see in River when he’s pushed too close to the edge.

I hesitate on the threshold of my room, then I sigh in defeat and follow Tabitha down the hall. The guys would never forgive me if something happened to her.

And frankly, neither would I.

All I wanted to do was protect my squad, yet I can’t get over that I’ve somehow wounded her more than a bullet to the heart. The house is silent as I creep through the halls. It’s not until I head down the stairs that I see Tabitha hunched over the table, her back to me.

Relief fills me that she didn’t run off half-cocked and do something stupid. I hurry down the rest of the stairs. Thankfully, Pierce is already gone, or I would undoubtedly find myself buried in the backyard for daring to upset her.

“Hey, listen. I didn’t mean…” I stop dead as I get a closer look at what she’s doing. “Is that a bomb? Are you actually putting together a bomb on the kitchen table?”

“Go away.” She doesn’t even look up from where she’s soldering pieces together, a set of magnifying goggles perched on her nose. There are cords and wires and metal fragments and computer chips and… “Is that fucking Semtex?”

I automatically take a step back.

Tabitha heaves a weary sigh, like I’m a kid pestering her while she’s watching television or some shit, not even bothering to look at me as she solders another wire to a computer board. “Don’t be a baby. It’s not even hooked up or anything yet.”

As I take a hesitant step forward, I suspect I’m actually seeing the real Tabitha. It’s not like she’s been hiding, more like I’ve been viewing her through my own preconceived notions. “What are you doing?”

“I’m making a bomb.” She scoffs, a furrow appearing between her brows. “I thought you were the smart one.”

I grimace at her comment…because I honestly don’t think she’s being a smart ass. I try a different tactic. “Why are you making a bomb?”

“Because it’s stupid to travel with a wired bomb,” she answers distractedly, like it’s the most logical answer in the world.

“Right.” I nod, watching her work. She has an ease and familiarity with the items that tell me this isn’t her first bomb. I scan her face, wondering who the hell she is and what secret organization she’s from. I don’t ask her if she knows what she’s doing, since it’s obviously she could do it blindfolded. “Who are we bombing?”

She doesn’t even pause as she reaches over for a timer, not looking up from her task. “It’s always best to be prepared.”

I snort this time. “Like a Boy Scout?”

“What?” A furrow appears between her brows, and she glances up at me over the top of the glasses. “I’m a girl.”

My stomach sinks when I realize she’s absolutely serious.

Which means she probably has no clue that she was flirting with the others.

I’m an ass.

Pierce told me that she was different, but I brushed it off.

“About before—”

“Don’t worry about it,” she cuts me off before I can apologize. “It’s not like I don’t know that I’m lacking. I was told to be nice to people on this mission. Interact with them and stuff.” She waves her hand distractedly. “Do people-y things. I just can’t get the hang of it.”

My heart aches at her confession, unable to image what kind of life she’s led, and I feel lower than a slug. Swallowing hard, I shrug. “You didn’t do too bad.”

That has her pausing, and she peers up at me, her silver eyes almost seeming to swirl. “Really?”

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