Running on Empty (13 page)

“Any suggestions on how I should deal with him?”

“I’m assuming that before this happened you two were happy together?”

They’d had the kind of relationship that defied reason—a closeness of mind, heart, body, and soul. With utter confidence, she replied, “Yes, we were.”

 “Then treat him as you once did. Just be aware, he may not see you the same way.”

Since he believed she was responsible for his abduction and torture, that was a no-brainer.

Suddenly, the need to see Declan overwhelmed her. She went to the edge of her chair, indicating her desire to leave. “Anything else?”

“No, other than that patience will be required. Being thrown back into the world after what he’s gone through will be, in a way, another kind of torture. He’ll want to be normal when normal isn’t possible anymore.”

She thanked the doctor for his help and turned to leave. Her hand was on the door when Dr. Lamar stopped her by saying, “Don’t expect too much.”

Her throat closed at the dire warning. There was a part of her that wanted to find a dark corner and howl out her grief and bitterness. How many times had she wished for Declan to be alive? Even believing that wasn’t possible, she had occasionally had those silly, foolish dreams of do-overs and what ifs. And now that wish had come true. Only, he wasn’t her Declan anymore.

She jerked herself out of her self-pity. Just what the hell was wrong with her? Her husband was alive. Life meant hope. Even if things could never be the same. And, yes, even if Declan never believed her or decided he no longer wanted her, she’d damn well be happy for what she had been given. Declan was still in this world. That was all she needed to concentrate on. 

That and the little issue of who the hell had done this to them.

Declan walked back into the door he’d walked out of three hours earlier. With no sign on the structure and a distinctly run-down appearance, the building was unattractive and uninviting. 

He remembered Sabrina mentioning that the LCR building in Paris was a bland, nondescript building, too. She said it was that way to deter passersby. Apparently, that philosophy had been adopted here, too. 

When had she moved to the States? And why? And why the hell did he even want to know?

The receptionist, a young, petite blonde, gave him a bright smile, a wink, and then clicked open a door to her left. “Welcome back, Mr. Steele.”

Her cheerful welcome gave him an idea that she had been asked more than once if he had returned yet. Sabrina no doubt wondered if he had gotten lost or if he was returning at all. They had unfinished business. After that, who knew what would happen?

She met him in the hallway. Though she wore a serene expression, he saw the worry in her eyes. “I’m glad you came back. We need to talk.”

“Yes, we do.”

“You look like you could use a cold drink.” She jangled some change in her hand. “How about a soda?”

He nodded and followed her into what was apparently a break room. Vending machines, a microwave, a fridge, and a sink all looked like normal break-room fixtures. The only anomaly was the large gun cabinet in the corner.

“You guys have much need to grab a snack and a gun at the same time?”

She flashed him a brilliant smile, and Declan ignored the gut-punch reaction. 

“The square footage is smaller here than our Paris office. This was the only place they could fit the cabinet.”

She handed him a soda and then sat down with one of her own. Declan took a long swallow from his, appreciating the cool bite of sweet carbonation as it hit his tongue and slid down his parched throat. 

“Why are you here now, instead of Paris?”

“Noah’s wife’s family lives here in Virginia. He decided to move the main headquarters here so they could be closer to them.”

When he didn’t respond, she took a nervous sip of her drink and swallowed. “So here’s what I’d like us to do. I want to go over not only the day of the bombing, but also the days leading up to it. Maybe together we can figure out what happened and who’s responsible.”

Declan opened his mouth to refuse her request and then closed it. Sabrina had been on her feet for more than twenty-four hours. Before that, she had been belted in the face, drugged, and kidnapped. And if he were to believe her—which he didn’t—she had learned that the husband she’d thought dead was alive. That was a helluva lot for a lifetime, much less a forty-eight hour time-span.

Knowing her well, he didn’t mention any of this. Sabrina would force herself to go on, no matter how exhausted she was. “I think I’d do better after some sleep.”

The relief in her eyes almost made him smile. She pushed her chair back and stood. “My place is about an hour from here, so I’m using one of LCR’s apartments.”

Before he could protest that he could find his own room, she added, “It’s a two-bedroom, two-bath. Plenty of privacy.”

“Sounds good.”

Her response was that brilliant smile again. Before they walked out the door, he needed to make sure she knew one thing. “Even if you’re telling the truth—if you had nothing to do with what happened to me—I’ve got nothing left for you, Sabrina. The quicker you accept that, the better off we’ll both be.”

The smile disappeared, which is what he told himself he wanted. 

“Don’t worry, Declan. You’ve been gone for a long time…I’ve moved on.”

She turned her back and strode out of the room. Declan gripped the back of the chair in front of him to keep from going after her. If she had believed he was dead, then she mostly likely had a new man in her life. He didn’t know what disturbed him most, the fact that she might have taken a lover or that it bothered him to think of her in another man’s arms.

Cursing his stupidity, Declan left the room and then stopped abruptly when he spotted the asshole who’d punched him out—Aidan Thorne—talking to Sabrina. He had his hand on her arm, was leaning into her so close his mouth was almost touching her ear as he talked in a low murmur. Was he her lover? 

Pushing aside the fact that he had nothing to give her and she’d had every right to move on, he glowered at the couple. “I can find my own place for the night.” He turned and walked away. If she didn’t follow him, then so be it. Damned if he’d stand there and watch his wife and her current lover.

Seconds later, he heard her behind him. Saying nothing about his boorish behavior, they walked out of the building together. Declan sneaked a quick glance down at her and didn’t feel the least bit better. A small smile was tugging at her mouth. Whatever the prick had said to her, she had liked it.

Chapter Ten

Sabrina opened the apartment door, a silent Declan beside her. He’d barely said a word on the ride over. That was fine with her. If she talked anymore tonight, she’d be a basket case for sure. His undeniably cruel remarks earlier had barely dented her tough exterior, but his blunt statement that he had nothing for her had almost brought her to her knees. Even though she had accepted he was no longer the Declan she had known, his words had made it clear that he was no longer her Declan, either.

She was relieved to note the clean, fresh smell of the apartment. It had smelled decidedly musty earlier. Housekeeping had come by and freshened up the place. Hopefully, that also meant they’d brought the supplies she had requested. 

“The fridge should be fully stocked. Help yourself to whatever you want.”

“You’re not eating?” Declan asked.

After the day she’d had, food was the last thing on her mind. “I have two goals: hot shower, ten hours’ sleep, in that order.” Giving him a brief, curt nod, she headed to one of the bedrooms.

Once inside, she leaned against the door and tried with all her might to pull her emotions in. Breaking down would be pointless. Besides, if one looked at today’s events objectively, the good outweighed the bad. Her husband was alive. On a scale of one to ten in life events, that was a mind-blowing, life-altering, phenomenal one trillion. How could she not be thrilled and grateful?

He had been tortured, believed she was responsible, had tried to kill her, didn’t want to be married to her anymore, and hated her.

Okay, but there was a downside to every good thing, right?

Tears filled her eyes, and sobs clogged in her throat. She ripped off her clothes and headed to the shower seconds ahead of her well-deserved meltdown.

An odd, inconvenient ache had developed in his gut as he’d watched Sabrina walk to the bedroom. Her body had literally drooped with every step as exhaustion dragged her down. And her expression. He’d seen that look on her face a thousand times. Years ago, before his soul had been devoured by pitiless demons, he would have followed her into the bedroom, showered with her, and then held her while she cried.

Declan turned away from the closed door and went into the second bedroom. He wasn’t surprised to see clothes on the bed—underwear, jeans, shirts, slacks, socks and shoes, along with various toiletries. That would be Sabrina’s doing. Even now, after all he had done and said to her, she was still trying to take care of him.

He huffed out an exasperated breath, turned around, and headed to her bedroom. Calling himself a fool, he twisted the doorknob and went inside. He heard the shower running and knew exactly what he’d find when he entered the bathroom.

A naked Sabrina sat on the floor of the shower. Hot water sprayed over her bowed head as her body heaved and convulsed with sobs. Declan grabbed the towel hanging from the hook beside the shower and opened the door.

Sabrina’s head popped up. Her eyes, brilliant green and swimming with tears, glared up at him. “What are you doing here?”

Instead of answering, he turned off the water and then held out his hand. The instant she placed her hand in his, he pulled her to her feet and then wrapped the towel around her soaking body. 

Sabrina told herself to reject his offer…she didn’t need or want his pity. But from the moment she’d met him, Declan had been her biggest weakness and greatest strength. Saying no to him just wasn’t in her. As he lifted her from the floor and wrapped the fluffy towel around her body, she pushed aside all the reservations and allowed herself to savor the moment. 

Once he had covered her with the towel, he snagged another one for her hair. Then doing what he had done a hundred times in the past, he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bedroom.

As if nothing had changed and they’d never been separated, he settled back against the headboard of the bed and just held her. With this part of the ritual complete, Sabrina did what she had always done—burying her face against his chest, she allowed the emotions to overtake her. 

The soft loving words didn’t come as before, nor did the tender kisses on her head. Silly, but that made her cry all the harder. Someone had taken a wonderfully caring, loving man and replaced him with this damaged, injured, hollowed-out person. She wanted to howl in grief, roar in pain. And she wanted to make them pay.

Pulling in an exhausted but much calmer breath, she pressed a kiss to his beard-stubbled cheek. “Thank you.”

“Get some sleep.” His gruff voice rumbled, the vibration beneath her cheek a comforting and familiar memory.

Sabrina closed her eyes and let herself drift away.

Declan closed his eyes, this time to fight his own tears. This was a memory he hadn’t allowed himself to have. Sabrina was one of the strongest people he knew. She’d endured a hellish childhood and had escaped that hell only to be imprisoned in a mental institution. When she’d come to EDJE as a new recruit, he had watched her develop into the savviest and most dedicated operative in the Agency. 

He had been her trainer. Seeing her potential and raw talent, he had been tougher on her than most new recruits. He had known her background and had done everything within his power to break her. Not because he didn’t want her to succeed. He had put her through the tough training for one reason only—if she could survive what he did to her, no one could bring her down.

During that grueling, intense training, not once had she shown any emotion other than fury and anger with him. She had fought him, snapped at him, and cursed him, but never had she shown the hurt she should have felt. So he had continued to push hard, and then harder still.

One day after a particularly difficult session, he noticed she’d left her gun behind. At first, he’d been infuriated at her unprofessionalism. He’d gone to her room, ready to rail at her for being so careless. And then everything had changed. Instead of the tough-as-nails trainee who fought and spit at him with every breath, he’d found a fragile, sobbing woman in the shower.

Declan had wanted to pick her up and comfort her, believing he had finally broken her. Instead, he’d stepped back into her room, and when she’d come out of the bathroom, he’d been in the process of cleaning her gun. 

At first, she’d looked both startled and worried, but he’d just started talking to her, telling her about his family and his reasons for joining the Agency. He hadn’t really meant to tell her anything so personal, but she’d looked so lost and empty, and he had wanted to share something of himself. 

He had left her with a soft but stern warning that if she ever left her gun behind again, there would be consequences. He hadn’t really known what he meant by that, mostly because he had assumed that he had broken her and she would quit. Once again, she had surprised him and returned to training the next day as if nothing had happened. He’d been even tougher on her that day, certain that she was on the edge, about to snap. Certain that she wouldn’t be able to handle all the shit he threw at her. She had proved him wrong.

After that training session, he’d again gone to her room, telling himself he was going to talk some sense into her. Once again, he found her in the shower. This time, he had broken all the rules, picked her up, held her, comforted her till she fell asleep. The same ritual went on for over a week until he finally got it through his thick skull. Sabrina could endure anything and everything that came at her, but she needed the catharsis of tears to survive. Some people drink, some take up other unhealthy vices. Tears were Sabrina’s escape.