Absolution (24 page)

Though her heart demanded she go to him straight away, she took Sam’s advice and went to sit outside with Bryn on the patio. They chit-chatted to kill some time, but Emily couldn’t focus. She kept thinking of Luke. Despite what had happened the night before he’d left, he’d come in, gone straight 192

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into the study and shut the door. He hadn’t so much as come to say hi, or even let her know he was back.

Whether it was because he didn’t want her there or because he was working on something, clearly he wanted to be alone. For now she’d respect his wishes and give him that space.

She passed the next hour with Bryn staring at the house’s reflection in the pool. After a few attempts at conversation that fell flat, they gave up and sat together in silence. When she couldn’t stand it any longer, Emily excused herself, went back inside and walked quietly down the hallway. The study door opened and the twins came out, both looking grim. Emily stopped when she saw them and almost turned around, but Ben left the door open and moved aside to let her pass, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze on the way by. Taking a deep breath, she paused for a moment outside the room before peering around the corner. What she saw drew her stomach into a hard knot.

Luke sat in the tufted leather chair behind the wide desk, his elbows resting on the blotter in front of a laptop, and his hands were buried in his hair.

He’d obviously made an effort to wash his face, but traces of camouflage paint and dirt remained around the edges of his hairline and beard. He stared at the screen, his eyes looking almost sunken in his face, lines of strain radiating out from the corners and around his mouth. He looked haggard. Beyond hope.

It scared her.

Gathering her courage, she knocked softly.

His head came up, those dark eyes zeroing in on her instantly. Then he stilled, as though she was the last person he’d expected to find in the doorway.

“Hi,” she ventured, unsure of her welcome.

“Hi, Em.” He sounded tired, spiritless.

“Can I come in?”

He scrubbed a hand over his face, looking ready 193

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to drop. “Sure.”

Sitting up straighter as she approached, he closed the laptop. Part of her was glad, because she had a feeling she didn’t want to know what he’d been looking at. Standing near the desk, she wrapped her arms around her waist. “I’m glad you’re back safe and sound.”

Luke lifted his dark stare, and the haunted expression in his eyes made her heart lurch. She’d seen him like this only once before, years ago when he’d first been in the Teams. He’d shown up on her parents’ doorstep in the middle of the night while she was full term with Rayne, shivering and soaked to the skin from the pouring rain, face covered in bruises and stitches.
They left us all there, Em. Just
left us there to die...

A shiver of foreboding snaked down her spine.

What else had happened out there last night? Her arms ached to enfold him, to have him lay his head on her shoulder and let her hold him. To tell him without words that he wasn’t alone and that he was loved. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides so she wouldn’t reach for him. “Luke—”

“It was my fault.”

His raw whisper made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. “What was?”

He shook his head and looked away. “I should have seen this coming. It was about me. It’s always been about me,” he said, and his disjointed words alarmed her. “He wanted me to feel betrayed, and all along I’ve known what the point of it is. I’ve read about it, seen movies about it, heard stories from the Agency in the Cold War, but I never thought it would happen to me.”

What did he mean?

His ragged sigh tore at her. “Shit I’m tired,” he muttered, rubbing at his eyes as though they burned.

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Helpless to ease the raw pain she sensed in him, she reached out with tentative fingers and brushed a lock of his too-long dark hair away from his cheek.

“What can I do?” she asked, bracing for the inevitable moment when he shut her out and retreated from her. But then he stunned her by folding his hand around hers and leaning his scruffy cheek into her palm.

“Stay,” he whispered, closing his eyes and pressing harder. “Just...stay.”

Her heart turned over in her chest.

Emily closed the gap between them and he pulled her right into his lap. She wrapped her arms around his back and fought the rise of tears when he locked his arms tight around her waist and buried his face in her throat. Giving him the wordless comfort of her embrace, she smoothed his hair and leaned her weight into him, resting her cheek on his hard shoulder. In answer he pulled in a ragged breath and gripped the back of her sweater with his fists, holding on like she was his anchor in the middle of a hurricane. She squeezed her eyes shut.

Whatever pain he was in, words couldn’t ease him now. She swallowed them all and held him fast, willing him to find solace in her arms. Luke took several deep breaths and exhaled hard. The muscles across his back were rigid. She stroked them with her fingertips, consciously slowing her breathing. He was hurting, but at least he was home safe, in her arms. She kept waiting for him to let her go and pull away, but time stretched out and he didn’t move except to release his grip on her sweater and slide his hands to the small of her back. Their warmth penetrated to her skin, sinking into her flesh. The weight of his head on her shoulder grew heavier and his breathing deepened. Her fingers paused on his back. Was he asleep?

Shifting her head slightly she peeked at him.

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His thick lashes were down and his facial muscles were relaxed. The hands at her waist jerked, but he didn’t stir otherwise. He was dead asleep in his chair with his head on her shoulder. He was that exhausted.

It touched her that he trusted her enough to let go and slide into sleep. He rarely slept at all, and it was usually a light combat-ready sleep. The knowledge filled her with pleasure and pride, because Luke trusted very few people. And from the sounds of it, he’d lost one of them in last night’s operation.

His breathing stayed slow and even in the quiet room. With his defenses down and him vulnerable in her arms, a fierce protectiveness rose within her. It sent a shiver over her skin. More minutes passed.

The muscles along her spine ached with the need to move, but she wouldn’t. Not if shifting meant waking Luke. She’d stay like that all damn day if he needed her to, no matter how uncomfortable she got.

Thinking of how cold he’d been out there alone last night, she wished she had a blanket to wrap him in as she cradled him. She never wanted him to be alone and cold again.

Footsteps out in the hall made her tense and glance over her shoulder, but Luke didn’t even twitch. That in itself told her how wiped out he was.

Luke had hearing like a bat’s.

Rhys poked his head in and stopped when he saw them. Emily gave a tiny shake of her head, giving a silent warning not to wake him up, but he didn’t leave. Suppressing an irritated sigh, she returned his stare. Whatever he needed, was it really important enough to warrant waking Luke out of the only real sleep he’d had in days?

Rhys’s somber expression said it was.

Sorry, sweetheart
. Regretting their closeness was about to come to an abrupt end, she woke him.

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All she had to do was shift and Luke came instantly awake, head jerking off her shoulder and his eyes snapping open, focusing immediately on Rhys. Still sharp as ever, from sleep to complete alertness in the blink of an eye. He gently set her away from him as he addressed Rhys. “What’s up?”

“Ben just went to pick up James at the airport.

We’re supposed to link up with them at the meeting location,” he said, gaze swinging to her.

She felt like rolling her eyes. Did he really think he needed to be so secretive with his words? She’d been married to Luke for almost eleven years without spilling any sensitive information to anyone.

And she’d lived with his dark secrets longer than that. Feeling awkward, she slid off Luke’s lap and headed for the door so they could discuss their business in private.

“Em, wait.”

Surprised, she stopped and looked over her shoulder at Luke.

“Thanks. I needed that.” A rueful grin tilted his mouth.

She smiled back. “Anytime.” Before she said something she shouldn’t, she slipped past Rhys into the hall.

****

Pale green eyes focused on him. “Well?” he prompted. “Good to go?”

“Yep.” Luke swiveled around to look at Jamie, sitting next to Rhys in the back seat. “Miller’s flight get in on time?”

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“Landed ten minutes ago.”

He should arrive at the hotel within the hour.

Luke settled back into the leather seat and closed his eyes, imagining what would happen when Miller got there. He wasn’t worried. Nope. He was seething inside, pushed to a deadly cold rage. It took a lot to get him there. He had a reputation for having a long fuse and never losing his cool when he worked, but right now he was as close as he’d ever been to wanting to kill with his bare hands.

“You want us to sit this one out?” Rhys asked from the back seat.

The idea had its merits. “No. I want all of you there.” In case he was tempted to let the darkness in him out of its cage.

A long pause followed before Ben said, “Sure you don’t want me to rig up a few cameras in there?”

“I’m sure.” He could feel the anxious tension coming off Jamie in waves, and his own heart rate responded by quickening. A fog of testosterone filled the SUV. They all wanted to avenge Davis.

“So you’re going to wait and follow him in when he gets here?” his boss asked.

Luke consciously relaxed the muscles in his shoulders, forcing the anger deep down where he could lock it away. Whatever happened, he would keep a clear head. “I’m going to give him some time to relax and get comfortable first.”

“Why? He doesn’t know we’re coming—”

“He will,” Luke interrupted, staring unseeing out the windshield through the gray drizzle. “I left him a message.”

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After placing his sidearm in the drawer of the bedside table and checking for electronic bugs or cameras or wires that might be hidden in his hotel room, Hank Miller went into the clean, modern bathroom stripping off his tie and wilted dress shirt.

The armpits were damp with the sweat he’d shed over the past nine hours. Ever since he’d been told Luke and the SEALs had found Davis’s body with the betraying double tap wounds in his head.

Dumping his clothes on the marble counter, he ripped back the shower curtain and turned on the spray, waiting for a few seconds until it warmed before stepping beneath it. The instant the water hit his skin he released a deep sigh. The grinding in his stomach eased somewhat. His boss had called him here for a meeting, and that was all. There’d been nothing in James’s voice to suggest he suspected anything. No urgency or accusation in his tone.

Miller had played back the recorded conversation several times looking for signs of vocal stress, but hadn’t found any. Maybe he was still okay.

Pushing the voices of doubt from his mind, he took the soap and scrubbed at his chest and pits. He detested feeling dirty. Hated that he couldn’t control his body’s reaction to stress enough that he’d stained a good dress shirt with cold, greasy sweat. He already had his story set in his mind. Once he dressed in fresh clothes and got himself together, all he had to do was hold fast against whatever accusations they threw at him. If they had any.

The hot water flowed over him in a cleansing 199

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rush, easing the tension out of his stiff muscles. He’d spent over twenty years with the Agency, and more than half of that working counterterrorism. He hadn’t worked this long and this hard to have his career blow up in his face.

They have no proof.

That was his mantra. James didn’t have any hard evidence. Couldn’t. Still, it was going to be tough facing his boss for this. Facing Luke, however, was another matter. The idea of having those x-ray eyes boring into his while he defended himself had nausea churning in his belly. Luke scared the holy hell out of him. Thank God James would be there as a buffer. Whatever happened, Miller didn’t want to wind up alone in the same room with Luke. Not until he’d cleared his name and they backed off enough to let him breathe again.

He shut off the water with one hand and reached out blindly for a towel hanging on the rack.

Couldn’t see shit without his glasses. Damn weak eyes. He’d thought about laser eye surgery a few times, but what was the point? It’s not like he needed it for his job. If he’d been out in the field doing ops, that would have been one thing. But sitting at a desk, his glasses were all he required for perfect vision.

It still irked him that he’d wound up a glorified desk jockey. All he’d ever wanted to do was make it into paramilitary ops. He glanced down at himself, his unfocused vision still able to see the soft belly protruding at his waist, big enough that it obscured the view of his genitals. He could barely make out the ends of his toes sticking out from beneath his navel. God, how had he let himself go like this? Up

‘til a few years ago he’d been in good shape. Not as good as Luke, but still decent for a desk jockey.

A wave of self-disgust washed over him. He was soft and fat and his hair was thinning, and his close 200

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quarter battle skills were so rusty he probably couldn’t even disarm a mugger anymore. Sure as shit he wouldn’t be able to hit anything long range with a rifle. Luke on the other hand, was still sharp as a razor and every bit as lethal. All anyone had to do was look into the man’s eyes to see that. The guy was fifty-freaking-years-old, five years older than him, and Luke’s body fat percentage was low enough to make most Olympic athletes jealous. It made
him
jealous, for Christ’s sake. They’d joined the CIA at the same time, but Luke had gone on to become a living legend both there and in the Spec Ops world.