Target 84 (18 page)

“It's harder to heal than it is to kill.
”―
Tamora Pierce
I palm the bullet, letting its weight settle in my hand. It’s 7.45 grams, give or take. That is the weight of a bullet. A small, little thing. That is all it takes to claim a life if done right. Life seems so trivial when you think of it in those terms.

There is an exposed air duct above the chair Allie had been tied to. Allie and Bentley are through the threshold of the room, rushing forward to meet the onslaught of ATF and police. I glance at Torren. I should leave him for Bentley. He would surely be regaled as a hero for saving Allie and capturing Delanti. His career would soar.

I cock my head to the side, deep in thought. I don’t enjoy leaving things to chance.

Torren’s eyes bulge out of their sockets. He expels torturous gasps.

Pop.

“What you are to do without me I cannot imagine.
”―
George Bernard Shaw
Seventy-two hours.

Seventy-two hours is a hell of a long time. Every passing minute feels like torture.

No word from Greta.

I am suspended from duty until further notice.

Emergency responders cleaned Allie up and treated some minor lacerations before allowing Clara, Dominic, Sawyer, and Pepper to see her. The fear on her parents’ faces had morphed into relief when they finally saw her. All because of Greta refusing to
not
wait.

I’d been questioned.

Allie was questioned.

Greta was not mentioned.

Pepper, with her slightly protruding belly, cornered me at the hospital, demanding to explain what I’d told her at Clara’s before Greta and I disappeared.

“Do you trust me?” I’d whispered in her ear. She’d nodded.

Pepper’s relentless questioning proved tough to sidestep.

Why were you together? How do you know each other? Why’d she say she was going to get Allie!?

So, I’d told her.

Well, mostly.

What I told her was a pared down version of the truth. We knew each other as children but then I’d moved away. We ran into each other at the grocery store and reconnected. She isn’t a consultant.

Then what is she?
she asked, waiting expectantly for my answer. She’s with the government, I had lied. A small, white lie to placate a pregnant woman that has enough stress on her plate. Pepper laughed at me.

Try again, Bentley.
I told her I was serious. Her travelling. Her training. I told Pepper to really
think
about it. She’d gone deathly still. Silent.

Then,
I don’t care what she is. She saved Allie. I don’t care what story you feed everyone else, Bentley James, but I know she was there.

At that, she’d turned and stomped away from me. I’d felt like a boy scolded by his mother.

Although grateful to be home, Allie is showing signs of post-traumatic stress disorder. She refuses to see the ATF-appointed therapist. She refuses to leave her bedroom. She refuses to talk about the kidnapping with anyone but Greta. Therefore, she’s avoiding talking about the event at all.

Clara and Sawyer are taking turns sleeping in her room at night because she’s having nightmares. Dominic is destroyed, his guilt coming from not listening to Clara initially and sending his girls on vacation to keep them far from danger’s reach. No one could have predicted this outcome. It does little to comfort, though.

I’ve tried to keep abreast of the situation, but I was strongly encouraged by Clint to keep my distance. I can’t bring myself to go home to Kentucky. Sawyer refused to make eye contact with me. He blames me for Allie’s trauma. Clara and Dominic aren’t pleased but know it wasn’t
my
fault. Guilt piles up anyhow.

I’ve barely slept at all. I stare up at the ceiling, waiting. I don’t know for what. Just waiting. She’s gone. She must be. My thoughts unravel around me, flashing forward to the future, a future I can actually picture because unlike the rest, Greta and I come from the same, shared torment. Maybe one day we’ll compare scars, sitting side by side on the fine sand of a tropical beach with a bungalow behind us. Maybe we’ll live in a hut and sail the islands in a catamaran together, my arm around her and her head on my shoulder, with music playing in the distance. We’d go home after the sun set and in the throes of ecstasy, eyes open and vulnerable, sharing herself completely with me, I’d know that every choice I’d ever made was worth it.

I thought, foolishly, that because of a shared past, we’d be soul mates. It’s laughable, really. The idea appealed to me, to my heart. Someone who just understood.

Our time together was brief and tumultuous but she’s left a lingering pit of unease in her wake. I
miss
her. Every tall, blonde, lithe woman I see, I wonder if it’s her. I
want
it to be her.

The sound of the door clicking pulls me from my light sleep. I must have finally dozed off. I scan the shadows. I pick my gun up off the nightstand. I am losing it. No one is here. I scan the black hotel room again anyways. Squinting, I see a lithe form moving in the shadows.

Greta
.

How Greta can blend in one moment and be the most noticeable thing in the room the next is just another one of those things about her that defies logic. She watches my movements. I can see her brain racing with scenarios. I can see thoughts vying for attention in her eyes. I place the gun on the floor next to the bed. “Bird,” I breathe. She moves to the bed, settling in next to me.

She raises herself on one elbow, running a finger down the center of my chest. Her curious finger traces the long scars on my lower abdomen. She kisses them, letting her lips linger. Feeling bold from my earlier daydream, I sink my hands in her hair, pulling her close before holding the sides of her face and kissing her.

No words are needed.

She’s here.

It’s enough for me right now. Hell, it’s enough for me period.

It would be so easy to lose myself in this bubble of suspended time, to forget why we are here. I stare into her eyes, wondering what she’s thinking now. Her fingers spread behind my head, gripping my hair tight. Her mouth opens, hungry against mine as she crushes her mouth to me for more.

“I need you,” she whispers. I roll and she moves with me. Lying on my back, Greta moves above me in a slow rhythm. She’s leaning forward, elbows straight, palms on top of one another, pressing down on my heart as if she is trying to restart it. Watching me, her face serious, her eyes sometimes glazed, sometimes widening, sometimes fierce with concentration. My eyes want to close, to let me be carried away by sensation, but I don't want them to.

I won't be able to see her then— won't be able to look into those bottomless, blue eyes. Her breathing quickens. She slows our frenzy and a tiny furrow of concern appears between her eyebrows. Reaching up, I smooth it away with a finger, but it reappears. Her eyes flicker and glaze over, she goes rigid, shuddering above me, muscles locked. Our movements are uncalculated and out of control; we are trembling with eagerness, fear, and desire.

I lace the fingers of both hands through hers and her eyes widen, pulling me into her snare even more. She stills, focuses. The air between us changes. It calms.

I draw in a sharp breath, drawn into the expanding ripples where our bodies are joined. Arms shaking, I hold her suspended over me as waves of pleasure wash through us simultaneously. I fight to keep my eyes open, staring up into her perfect face. Curling against me, she tucks her forehead into my cheek. Her hand finds mine again, lacing our fingers into one. Nothing in my life has ever felt this easy before.

“Where have you been?” I ask after a comfortable silent spell.

“It’s been a circus out there. Torren Delanti’s death made all the front pages.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” I say.

“I was safe. I crawled out the air duct that night.”

“Which apartment?” I ask.

“What?”

“You have four. Which one were you at, bird?”

Her smile blinds me.

“Wow, you really stalked me. San Antonio,” she answers.

“I didn’t stalk you,” I grunt.

“Thank you,” she says quietly.

“For what?”

“For saving me. I didn’t think about it then, but there was no way to explain my presence. I would have gone straight to prison, Bentley, and you knew it.”

“I guess.”

“How are they?” she asks.

“Allie is a mess. You need to show face,” I tell her. She shakes her head.

“Dammit, bird, you need to see her. She’s refusing to talk to anyone but you about it. Everyone is losing their minds trying to reach her.”

“She will bounce back,” she states.

“Stop being a coward.”

“Me? A coward?” she growls at me. She's beautiful when she's angry. Hell, Greta Billings is beautiful when she's anything, but that’s beside the point.

“Yes, bird, you. She needs you. A child.”

“I want to see her. I do, but what the hell will I say to Clara? Pepper? Everyone else?” she asks, her temper waning.

“Bird, listen, you weren’t there. The only one who doesn’t buy that story is Pepper...and I might have fibbed a little to get her to buy into what I could so she’d stop questioning me.”

“Fibbed?” Greta drawls. Her perfect lips pout slightly.

“I may have told her you’re like a spy, in less definitive terms. More like I suggested it.”

“What?! Bentley!” She laughs, slapping my bare chest. “That’s ludicrous!” She rolls to her back, trying to catch her breath, fits of giggles bursting forth each time I think she’s done.

“It’s not
that
ridiculous. Plus, if anyone were to grant grace, it’d be Pepper.”

“Grace,” she huffs. “I don’t deserve that.”

“None of us do, bird, that’s what makes it beautiful. Everyone has a past and no one is as pristine as they appear.”

“Deep, Bentley. Who knew.” She smirks before leaning in and kissing my lips. I pull her tightly to me and try to block all thoughts of her leaving again.

“I've begun to realize that you can listen to silence and learn from it. It has a quality and a dimension all its own.
”―
Chaim Potok
When I pulled up to the Napolis’ house, Sawyer was there, leaning against his bike, all six-foot-plus of him, his stormy, blue eyes staring at me as various emotions reflected in them. I shivered. First and foremost, Sawyer Crown is the ever-protective father. I understand that and like that about him. I don’t, however, enjoy being on the wrong side of that protectiveness. Right now, Sawyer Crown isn't the sort of man I would play cards with unless I had a stacked deck, and I don’t.

“May I see her?” I ask.

“I think she’s sleeping now, but you might as well go in and wait,” he says. I nod, brushing past him to the door. Knocking twice, I wait until Pepper appears.

“Hi?” I ask, expecting to see Clara, not Pepper.

“Hi. Clara ran out grocery shopping,” she explains.

“Okay...well Sawyer said I should come and wait?”

“Oh did he?” she answers.

“You’re pissed.”

“You abandoned her!” Pepper shrieks.

“I...It wasn’t intentional, Pepper. Everything was out of control. I’m sorry. I never claimed perfection, though, we both know I’m cracked.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you disappeared. Cracks are not always weaknesses, Greta,” Pepper says. “A life well lived gathers in the cracks.”

“Of course you’d say that,” I grumble.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re
Pepper
! Resilient, bright, able to move forward and leave the past where it belongs.”

Destitution and loneliness move through me like water.

“Greta Billings! You wallowing asshole! Man the fuck up!” she screams at me.

“What do you want me to say? I’m sorry! I know I should have been here, but I couldn’t be. I made sure she was safe. I made sure she was alive. I made SURE that anyone left connected to
your
mess is dead, Pepper! Doesn’t that get me any sort of free pass for my lacking emotional skills?” I shout back.

“Holy shit,” Pepper breathes before sitting down.

“Crap! Are you all right?” I fuss over her. She waves me away.

“That’s like...the most information you’ve ever spoken out loud at one time. I’m...speechless.”

I look at her, my mouth agape, and playfully smack her arm. “I think Bentley is cracking you open,” she adds.

“Shh. I’m not ready for that conversation,” I scold.

“Well, if you think I’m going to let all this just slip on by, you’ve got another thing coming,” she admonishes.

“Listen,” I say and sigh, sitting next to her. “I
am
sorry, you know. I care about Allie. I didn’t mean to cause you all worry and I definitely didn’t want to cause Allie grief.” Pepper pats my knee. It does little to fix the guilt eating at me.

“Get her talking then. The counselor says that is the most effective way to get her back into the swing of things.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“So, I have to say one thing...Bentley. Sex. Awesome, right?”

Right there I swear I know what
death
feels like. I groan and close my eyes. Pepper, of course, would think we could bond even more over something like a shared lover.

“I mean, yeah, okay, it’s weird to say that, but I’m in a weird spot, ya know? I’ve slept with Bentley, who clearly belongs with you and I’ve slept with Sawyer, who used to do Clara. I am NOT bringing that shit up with Clara. But you...I dunno, just, it was good, right?” she pushes. I cannot contain my laughter.

“You are such a slut, Pepper Crown,” I cackle. She wrinkles her nose and shakes her head before bursting out laughing.

“Shit! Make it stop. I’m going to pee!” she squeals, sprinting to the bathroom. “It’s terrible! I pee like twice as much as normal recently. I’m not looking forward to what else I’ll have to endure going into the last trimester!” she calls from the bathroom, making me chuckle.

Allie wakes up an hour after I arrive from her nap. Dark circles encase her eyes and she looks frail. Sitting at the edge of her bed, I mourn for the innocence she has lost, the blind faith that the world is predominantly good. The very beginnings of the demons that haunt the world are now reflected in her eyes.

“So kiddo, what did you want to talk about?” I prompt after Pepper closes the door.

“How’d you learn all that stuff?” she blurts.

“What stuff?”

“All those moves, when you were fighting him. How’d you learn it? How’d you remember what to do when you needed to?”

“Well, you know Pepper and I train almost every day together. I’ve been doing it for years and years,” I explain.

“Yeah, but, when I got scared, I forgot all the stuff I know. I just did...nothing,” she laments, her voice hoarse. She looks tortured by her thoughts.

“You did a lot more than nothing Allie. You were strong. You stuck to your guns. You’re too small to have been able to fight the way I did anyways.”

“Who are you, Greta? Bentley told me to tell everyone you weren’t there. The police don’t know. I did what he said. I didn’t want to get you in trouble,” she explains.

“My job is...complicated, and I’m not really allowed to talk about it.”

“But you’re a good guy like Bentley.”

Her words slice through my skin, pain searing my heart where they stick. A lie.

“Not really, but sort of.”

“I have nightmares. I see his face still.” She shudders and looks away.

“Those will go away. You’re safe now. You understand that, right? They are all gone,” I state firmly. If I could will her to believe my words I would.

“You shot him.” Stunned at her words, I remain silent. I thought they were out of eyesight before I shot him. “It’s okay, you know. I mean, I wanted to hurt him too,” she says.

“Allie,” I breathe.

“I want to forget,” she sobs. Tears leak from her eyes, dripping downward.

“Never,” I state passionately. “Never forget. Feel it. Use it. Remember, you lived. You survived. That’s something to be proud of. Hold on to the power that gives you. You. Are. Here. None of them can say the same.”

“I survived,” she says quietly, wiping tears with the corner of her shirt.

“You were brave and because of that, you have your entire life ahead of you.”

“Greta?” she whimpers.

“Mmm.”

“I think I want to grow up and be like you. Strong and brave and tough.”

Her words assault me at my core. That is not me. I live a lie. I have no one. I am a coward.

“No, no, no, Allie. Be you. Be all those things but love people and enjoy your family. You are so loved.” She crawls down the bed and into my lap, snaking her arms around me and holding on tightly. “So loved.” I rub her back. Comforting her feels less uncomfortable than I anticipated.

“So are you,” she whispers.

For the first time in many years, a tear of grief falls from my eye. Sorrow, so overwhelming, mixed with awe and compassion, pummels me. I’m
loved
. It’s an uncomfortable feeling.

A child brought me to my knees.

My phone dings sometime later. I fell asleep in Allie’s bed with her curled into my side. I slept in a
bed
. I shake my head at the thought as I come to. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I read Bentley’s text.

Dinner? You gotta eat right?

Scratch that. Greta, would you care to have dinner with me?

Despite myself, I smile. I’ve been asked out on a proper date. I type my reply one-handed so I don’t wake Allie before she’s ready.

Yes.