“Tristan… Tristan… Tristan.”
Every iteration of his name on my lips is louder, heavier, matching his drives. The sound is both demand for more and dedication to the climb that isn’t even bliss. It’s air. It’s blood. It’s us. Whatever is left of us now…
That truth sinks into my skin, melting into the places that Tristan has already set on fire until there’s no place else to go.
His tortured groan, his teeth bared and sinking into my shoulder, and the clawing need to release… Everything comes together to push me over.
“Tristan!”
I scream it until he slaps his hand over my mouth, buries himself to the hilt, and muffles the pinnacle moment until I’m wilted and reduced to a series of long, delirious moans into his hot palm.
We collapse together. Me over the desk. He against my back. He surprises me by pushing deeper still. I gasp, and he sighs with such audible satisfaction that my heart squeezes in my chest.
Already I know I need this to mean more to him.
I’ve changed, but I’m wired to love Tristan. My love for him will never stop seeking its reflection. Until he says it again, I’ll survive on those little sounds and the glints of affection in his eyes before they darken with truth I’ve yet to truly understand.
The warm night and our passion cool on our skin. Tristan lifts, and I turn to see him walking away toward the bathroom, zipping himself away. He returns with a warm cloth and offers it to me.
“Sorry, I—”
“It’s fine. I have it covered.” I take the cloth with a shaky hand.
His brows come together a second before he turns away again. He riffles through his bag for another T-shirt as I attempt to put myself together. Physically, I’m there. Dressed. Heart and brain functioning at a semi-normal pattern again. But I still feel scattered all over the room. Vulnerable. A mess of craving and splintered memories.
“What now?”
He glances toward the bed. “Rest, I suppose. We should leave early.”
I take his hand in mine. Unexpected relief floods me when he doesn’t reject the contact.
“Lie down with me.”
“I wasn’t vigilant enough before and nearly got us killed. I’m not letting that happen again.”
“You need to sleep too.”
He threads our fingers tighter. “I’ll be fine. I can keep watch until daybreak. Then we’ll get out of here.”
“Please,” I whisper. “Just a few minutes.”
He takes a deep breath and touches my face gently. “What is it about you?”
I smile, unable to ignore the little flutter of happiness his words give me.
We move together to the little bed. There’s barely enough room for one, but I don’t care. I make it work and use it as an excuse to tangle myself in his familiar warmth. I’m scared to death of losing the magic between us. I just want a few minutes. Then I know I’ll want more.
The church is quiet, save a few concerning creaks that soon become normal sounds. Wind. Tree branches scratching the roof. I sigh and try to turn off the fear that doesn’t ever seem to go away altogether now. I nuzzle against Tristan’s chest and let his scent chase it away a little more.
“Tristan?”
He hums and tucks me a little closer.
“What if they don’t stop looking for us?”
He’s quiet for so long that tendrils of sleep begin to wrap around my thoughts before I hear him finally speak.
“They won’t.”
CHAPTER TEN
TRISTAN
Gunshots. They’re whizzing by and dropping men to the ground all around me. They’re punching into my flesh. They’re killing me.
The voices shouting are a tangle of English and the Arabic I’ve yet to pick up. I can’t make sense of anything past the panic and the agony and the instinct to get the fuck out of here as fast as I can.
But every time I get up, I stumble back down, lightheaded and dodging the bullets that are still flying, puncturing the dusty walls of this hut. I lie on my stomach while hot rays of sunlight pour through the crude window openings until the room begins to cool and all I can see is the bright white overwhelming my vision.
“Stone! Stone!”
Faces imprint in flashes on the white. Men like me. Fear and fire in their eyes. Then they’re gone and my whole body is vibrating. I’m moving. Strip after strip of fluorescent lights fly by above me. I can’t tell if I’m chasing the lights or running from them.
“You’re going to be all right. Just stay with me. Keep your eyes open.” A man in green scrubs places a clear plastic mask over my face. “Just breathe, Tristan.”
I suck in a half breath that shoots pain down every limb. I try to cry out, but everything disappears, and I’m transported somewhere else.
A brushed metal table beams light into my eyes from the industrial lamp swaying above us. A woman with piercing blue eyes and red hair pulled tight from her fair-skinned face sits across from me in a blue pin-striped business suit.
“I’m Jay. I’ll be your contact moving forward.”
I look down at myself. I’m in street clothes. I can feel the bandages wrinkling against my skin underneath. The pain is gone, replaced by a muddy sort of consciousness. I’m pretty sure this isn’t a dream, though. I think I’m alive.
“How did I get here?”
“You had some of the military’s best doctors caring for you. You were put into a deep coma while you recovered.”
“Is that why I feel… My head. It’s like everything is cloudy.”
Jay offers a tight smile. I can’t tell if it’s sympathetic or something else. “You will have a difficult time accessing your memory. Don’t try to fight it, Tristan.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The trauma from the mission combined with the induced coma you were in for several weeks resulted in what we call dissociative fugue. Your memory is…” She drums her fingers on her knee, averting her gaze for only a moment. “Think of it as a fresh start. For the sake of your safety and everyone involved, it’s probably for the best that things turned out this way.”
I wince. “Everyone involved?”
“If it weren’t for the valuable skills you demonstrated over the past few years, I’m not sure you’d be given this opportunity. Several people lost their lives. There’s a lot of blood on your hands, Tristan.” She’s quiet for a moment. “Take this for what it is. A second chance.”
I press the heels of my hands to my eyes and rub vigorously. Maybe this is a dream. Everything is so confusing. The things she’s saying don’t match the synapses firing in my brain. Something’s off. Something’s wrong. Really wrong.
“What do I do now?”
“You won’t be safe in the US for a while. We’ve set you up with a place just outside of Rio de Janeiro. You can heal and rest there. Then I’ll be in touch when we have a job for you.”
“A job?”
She’s silent a moment. “The second chance doesn’t come without cost.”
Jay’s laser focus from across the table makes me uncomfortable, like she can see all the things that won’t come into view for me right now.
“What do you need me to do?”
“You’ll take assignments that only someone entirely off the grid can take. You’ll need to take every precaution to keep yourself safe after a hit. We won’t be there to support you unless we absolutely need another agent involved. You’ll receive all the pertinent information, and then you’ll be compensated when the work is done. No paperwork. No red tape.”
My mouth is dry. I think it’s the pain medication that’s making all this feel so surreal and out of reach. I take a drink from the water glass in front of me.
“Listen, I just want to go home.”
Jay leans in. Her eyes are cold, like deep ocean water.
“Where’s home, Tristan?”