Garrett stiffened and swallowed. The words entered his gut and twisted it like scarab beetles. Hero? Right. Some champion he was, buying the story from the CNO hook, line, and fucking sinker. No skeletons in the van merely meant the rebels had moved the bodies as some kind of a sick fuck you to God only knew who. There was no sense in jeopardizing extra American lives to look for two charred corpses. The region was unstable and unsafe now.
Goddamnit, he’d believed every line they’d fed him. He’d settled for saying goodbye to her photo on a tripod as they tossed flower petals off a cutter in the Sound, instead of demanding they all look harder, deeper, further for her.
Never again. He vowed it now with every cell of his being. He’d never again give up on her. The angels had given her back to him, and he sure as fuck wasn’t blowing the chance. He’d never again let her go, and he’d never again rest before knowing she was safe, secure, completely protected.
He began making good on that oath that moment, clutching her close and claiming her mouth with a kiss so deep and consuming, they both dragged air in harsh, heavy breaths afterward.
He kept her pressed against him, still barely comprehending it was her heart beating beneath his, before murmuring, “Welcome back, Sage Weston.”
Sage pulled back a little. She tilted her face up at him, her chapped lips tremulous with the question that tumbled off them. “Welcome back…to what?”
“To life, sugar.” He brushed her lips softly with his own again. “To life.”
* * *
Several hours later, he watched another degree of that life dance across her features as she laughed into his cell phone. She held the phone on the side of her face that hadn’t turned five shades of blue yet, causing Garrett to Zen-breathe his way out of another surge of fury. She’d shrugged off the injuries, unwilling to tell him how they’d gotten there, telling him that she’d shared all during Franzen’s debrief and didn’t want to go through it again with him.
Garrett told himself to be patient. He’d woken up in a grimy hotel room today about to masturbate in his sleep with her wraith. Tonight, ensconced safely in the US Embassy’s guest quarters, he was about to climb into bed with her very warm, very alive self. Be grateful, you nut sack. And patient. Very patient. That includes what’s about to go down here. You have no idea what she’s been through. She may not want your dark-blue balls up in her business yet, got it?
He turned from her, trying to focus on something a little less arousing than the sight of her in his old Pike Place Market T-shirt and a pair of utilitarian white panties. The task was not easy. The combo was sexy as fuck, no matter how basic its inspiration. She’d literally had nothing with her when they’d gotten here and had been too tired and hungry to wait for clothes to be scrounged up, other than the underwear. He’d assured the embassy staff they could wait for a while and had shuttled her up to his room. She’d rushed for the shower, spending the next twenty minutes moaning in ecstasy beneath the hot spray. Garrett had paced the bedroom, fighting an erection that could’ve raised a barn with the nails it could pound.
Concentrate on something else.
He looked out the window at the courtyard that grew brighter with the peachy shades of dawn. A grim smile took over his lips. This morning, King and all his henchmen were behind bars. The Thai police had gladly turned them over, and now they’d face international repercussions for what they’d done to Sage, Rayna, and the five aid workers.
The shitty thing was, men like King were human cockroaches. Kill one and you ended up stirring the whole intrusion. He had no doubt that other Special Operations Forces teams would be called here soon to try to quash more of the monsters.
Sage’s throaty laugh was a welcome step into his thoughts. He turned and visually feasted on her again. She was propped against the wall with his phone against her ear, her legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle. Her calves and thighs were nearly as sinewy as his now, but all the curves that’d invaded his imagination for the last twelve months were still there. Barely. She’d lost a lot of weight. There were old scratches on her ankles, indicative of heavy hiking through thick brush. The muscles in her arms were pronounced, too. Every inch of her body that he could see was clear evidence of what she’d survived in the last year.
What had she survived?
Patience, damn it. This isn’t an op you can control. You can’t kick in the doors of her psyche and just demand answers.
“Okay, Mom. Yes, I’ll call as soon as we get back stateside.” She bit her lip and swiped at the tears that escaped anyway. “Yep, he’s right here. I love you too.”
She clicked the call off and extended the phone to him with a watery smile.
“Is she doing okay?” Garrett asked.
Sage nodded. “Yeah. Just stunned, I guess.” She shook her head, bemusement touching her features. “Suppose I’ll get that reaction from a lot of people.”
He put the phone down on the utilitarian bureau and then scooted around to the foot of the bed. After he sat down, he braced his elbows on his knees. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “You should prepare yourself.”
About a minute passed. It felt like an hour. He tilted his head in order to steal peeks at her, watching her shred her bottom lip as she stared at the far wall. He could practically see the thoughts tumbling through her head, a mental gymnastics team on crack. It was just as hard to follow in terms of what she was thinking.
Patience.
“Did you…have a service?” she finally asked.
During the drive in from the jungle, he’d tried to explain what he’d said about welcoming her back to life. He’d followed it with the flyover version of what had happened after she and Rayna had disappeared. He’d tried to smooth over the rougher parts, as semi-impossible as that was. There was no way of sugarcoating the visit from the CNO, the papers Heidi had been asked to sign, the medals that were promised, the condolences imparted. He’d told her about the army’s certainty they weren’t still alive and the dictate from sources much higher than him that a search wasn’t feasible, hopeful, or possible.
To his perplexity, Sage had merely nodded and said they’d done the right thing. When Garrett questioned that ludicrous shit, she’d turned and gazed into the night, her eyes matching the darkness.
Darkness he’d never seen in her gaze before.
What the hell had happened to her in the last twelve months?
He jammed the thought into a mental side pocket. There was an answer to that and he’d damn well get it, but right now, she needed hers more.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “We had a service. We did it on a Navy cutter, out on the Sound.” He lifted one side of his mouth at her. “You would’ve liked it, sugar—except for the being dead part.” When she returned his smile with a tentative smirk, his ribs turned into mush, baring his heart to the warmth of her regard. It gave him the courage to continue. “We tossed yellow and pink roses onto the water, along with your—well, what I assumed were your ashes. And we served grilled cheddar cheese sandwiches while listening to classic disco.”
She laughed in full. “Okay, you’re right. I really would have loved it—except for the being dead thing.”
He joined her in a chuckle, but it was all he could manage before his next words came out, shaking as they did. “Damn it, Sage. I’m so glad you’re not.”
The air thickened back into awkwardness again. He kept his stare threaded into the thin bed blanket, suddenly unable to meet her gaze.
“Are you?”
It was only two words, but they asked so much more. He knew it, and he knew she did too. She inched one foot toward him and then nudged him with her big toe. “Then why don’t you show me?”
He curled his hand around her foot. The sensation of touching her, really touching her, and of caressing her warm, soft skin… It turned the crumbles of his ribs into dust and dissolved his senses into a chaos of confusion, need, heat.
“Garrett.” Now she leaned over and grabbed his wrist in one of her tiny but iron-strong hands. “Please. I need this. I need…”
She drew his hand up to her cheek.