The Island (20 page)

“You’re such a fucking optimist,” Shaw told him, but he knew Lee wouldn’t even last that long. He needed to get out of the water soon.

“Fuck you,” Usayd returned.

Shaw wanted to ask Lee if he was okay, but this wasn’t the time. Not with Usayd listening in, ready to offer a sarcastic comment at the drop of a hat.

“Stay with me, Lee,” he said instead. He adjusted his grip and felt Lee’s fingers grip his own again.

The Pacific and the stars. It wouldn’t be so bad to die here. The black water reflected the field of stars above them. They drifted in the Milky Way. Shaw fixed his eyes on the Southern Cross and fought sleep.

He became aware that Lee was mumbling something; humming something. It took Shaw a moment to realize it was the lullaby Irina had sung to him the night she’d taped his broken fingers.

“Lee,” he said. “You’re okay.”

You are
not
slipping away. You are
not
going quietly into the dark. Stay with me.

It felt like hours again before they heard the drone of a boat. Shaw hoped to God that the tide hadn’t pushed them back toward the island. But he couldn’t see any lights, except for those on the boat. No, this was good. This was the plan.

“Wake up, Usayd,” he said. “Our ride’s here.”

“About fucking time,” Usayd growled. His voice was weaker now.

The drone of the boat’s engines grew louder, and Shaw flinched as a spotlight hit him in the face. Familiar accents called out to them. Hands reached for them.

“Careful,” Shaw said. “They’re injured.”

Shaw felt himself pulled over into the inflatable. He landed badly and didn’t care, and then someone was holding a bottle of water up to his lips. Shaw washed the first mouthful around to get rid of the taste of salt and then spat it into the black ocean. The saltwater had shriveled his lips and his skin. He drank deeply and looked around for Usayd and Lee. Usayd, hunched over with a blanket around his shoulders, actually managed a wan smile.

Lee sat blinking in the torchlight. One of their rescuers wrapped a blanket around him, and he looked like he didn’t even notice. Shaw shuffled over to him on his knees and put an arm around his shoulders.

“Have some water,” he said. “It’s okay.”

Lee focused his eyes with difficulty. He looked as frightened now as any time Shaw had known him, and that was fucking unfair. He should have been jubilant. Instead, he stayed silent as the boat began to move again.

“Wash your mouth out,” Shaw told him and angled the plastic bottle against Lee’s lips.

Lee obeyed, shaking, before Shaw allowed him to drink.

“We might need a sling,” Shaw told one of their rescuers. “He’s weak.”

“No problem,” the man said. He relayed the message into his radio. “Ten minutes.”

Ten minutes, Shaw thought with relief, ten minutes. He allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment. They stung.

It was almost dawn. There was a softening of the night, a faint glow on the horizon, but it was still dark when they approached the ship. It was running with lights out, and it seemed to loom suddenly out of the darkness above them.

Lee shrank back when the ladder was dropped down. “Where are we?” he whispered, his voice cracking. “What is this?”

Shaw helped him stand. “This is the HMAS
Stuart
,” he said. He gripped the ladder and splayed his fingers against the metal hull. “Good to see you, babe.”

“Babe?” Usayd grizzled.

“Private joke,” Shaw said, “between me and
Stuart
.”

Chapter Fourteen

It was like being reborn. It always was. As soon as he was onboard, Shaw was almost overcome by a rush of relief that fought with the adrenaline still coursing through his system. He felt like his heart could discover its regular rhythm for the first time in months, if he let it. He felt like his muscles could relax at last, his eyes could close, and his brain could switch off, if he let them. He could breathe again. He didn’t have to be that guy for a while, and his whole body sagged with gratitude. Thank Christ, Shaw breathed, thank Christ. He hadn’t realized how heavy the weight of his fear was until it was lifted from him. He’d suppressed it for too long.

His body shook, now that it had the chance. He sat in the sickbay with a blanket around his shoulders, his heels beating a tattoo on the side of the examination bed.

Thank Christ.

When the medical officer cleared him, Shaw made the call to Callie.

“I’m okay,” he said. It took all his concentration to run through what had happened. He was tired. He wanted sleep. His voice was a monotone as he recounted the escape to Callie.

“Are you sure?” she asked him softly.

Shaw drew a shaking breath. “We’re okay. The operation’s all fucked-up, though.”

A six-year op. Six years of gathering intel, six years of establishing his cover, six years of doing business with men who scared the living crap out of him. He’d been so close, and he’d thrown it all away in a heartbeat to save the life of someone whose government thought he was already dead. Someone who didn’t count for anything in the big picture. Jesus, on paper this would look like the worst decision anyone could have made. And it was, of course it was, but at least Lee was off that fucking island. At least they both were.

“It’s good to hear your voice,” Callie said. “And we’ve weathered worse shit storms.”

“Yeah.” Shaw summoned the ghost of a smile. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll be waiting at the dock with Molly,” Callie said. “We’ll both have bells on.”

Shaw knew she wasn’t kidding.

The hot shower was the best thing, followed by the hot meal. Shaw felt almost human again at the end of it. Almost.

He headed back to the sickbay to check on Lee and Usayd. Usayd was already up and about, testing his sling and asking for cigarettes. It would take more than a single bullet to put Usayd down; at least that was the impression he liked to give.

“I’m going to find cigarettes,” he said to Shaw.

“You’ll need an escort, sir,” the nurse told him.

“Then get me an escort,” Usayd said and left anyway.

Lee was lying in a bed. His eyes were closed, but Shaw knew he wasn’t really asleep. His hands, lying on top of his blankets, were shaking. As Shaw watched, the doctor lifted one.

“It’s okay,” the doctor said, glancing at Shaw. “It’s okay, son.”

The doctor was a small, narrow man. He was balding and wore glasses. His hands were deceptively large. He applied ointment to Lee’s raw wrist and began to wind a crepe bandage around the broken skin.

“Just patching you up,” the doctor murmured as Lee flinched. He saw Shaw watching and turned his head away.

Shaw left and headed back to his cabin.

Jesus, the week he’d had. His bosses would question every word of it, he supposed, ripping it apart to find every mistake, but he began to write his report anyway. He used a borrowed laptop. That was fucking typical as well. He’d just gotten used to the old one.

His fingers trembled as he typed. Adrenaline again. A part of him was still caught in that room, still fighting. It would take a long time before he could really relax. More sleepless nights. More nightmares. He was used to it.

He looked up when the door to the cabin opened, and Lee stepped through. He raised his brilliant green eyes to meet Shaw’s gaze, and then dropped them again. Shaw waited, and eventually Lee looked at him again. This time he didn’t look away.

Shaw felt as though Lee was looking at him, properly looking for the first time, and he really wasn’t sure what he was seeing. Shaw had seen that wary expression in a lot of people before. It always ended badly.

“Can I come in?” Lee was wearing a T-shirt, sweatpants, and joggers. It was strange to see him fully clothed. No stranger, Shaw supposed, than what Lee was seeing. Whatever the hell that was. Jesus, sometimes he didn’t know himself.

“Yeah, of course,” Shaw said. Lee closed the door. The cabin was small, and Shaw had the only chair, so Lee hesitated for a moment before sitting on the bunk. He had crepe bandages around his wrists and clean tape around his broken fingers.

Shaw closed the laptop. “Has the doctor cleared you?”

Lee nodded and bit his lip. “I,
um
, I have to take some pills and see him tomorrow.”

Shaw wondered what the examination must have felt like for Lee, having to show his scars and bruises to strangers and to have them all
know
. He wondered if Lee wished he had died with the rest of his team, or if that would only come later when he tried to pull the torn fabric of his life back together.

“I,
um
,” Lee managed. He cleared his throat. “I don’t know where we are, and I don’t know what’s going on.”

“You’re okay now, Lee,” Shaw said. “I promise.”

Lee looked at him warily. “Was anything you told me the truth?”

His eyes said it all:
liar.

Shaw shrugged wearily. He was too tired for this shit. Not now. He needed sleep. He needed time. He needed to feel comfortable in his own skin again before he could begin to dissect it all for Lee. “I dunno. Does it matter?”

Lee leaned forward, watching Shaw’s face closely. “You’re not a bad guy, are you?”

“I don’t know anymore,” Shaw said, surprised. He’d expected recriminations. “No, I suppose I’m not a bad guy.”

Lee frowned, trying to gather his thoughts. “Why did we get picked up in the middle of the ocean by an Australian navy ship?”

“Frigate,” Shaw corrected him. “Anzac class. The crew gets shitty when you call it the wrong thing.”

“Whatever,” Lee said. He drew his brows together. “What are you?”

“I work for ASIO,” Shaw said. “Do you know what that is?”

Lee shook his head.

Typical insular American, Shaw thought, his old prejudices showing. “It’s kind of like your CIA. But smaller.” He smiled. “But better.”

Lee managed a slight smile at that, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re a spy,” he said.

“I’m a spy.” It felt strange to say it aloud. It sounded wooden, like a lie. The first honest thing he’d said to Lee, and it sounded like a fucking lie. Typical.

Lee’s gaze slid away and back again. “And who is that Arab guy?”

“Oh, don’t call him that,” Shaw said. He fought to keep his smile.
Keep it light, keep it easy. Let him see you’re not that guy. Show him you can smile. Show him it’s okay
. “He hates that. His name’s Zev. Zev Rosenberg.”

“Is he Mossad?” Lee asked, his brows arching.

“Not that he’ll ever admit,” Shaw said.

“Will he be okay?” Lee asked.

“He’s had worse.”

Lee lowered his eyes. “Were you sent there to kill all those men?”

“No,” said Shaw, his smile fading, and Lee’s eyes flicked up again. “I was sent there to make friends with those men. To infiltrate their groups. I fucked up. I couldn’t,
um
…”

Lee swallowed.

“Well,” said Shaw. “I couldn’t let them do it.”

Lee nodded.

“Look,” Shaw said, drawing a deep breath. “Look, I have to write a report on what happened, and we probably won’t get a chance to talk much back on dry land. Is there anything you want me to leave out?”

Lee looked up sharply, flushing. “You mean in the shower?”

“Yeah,” said Shaw. “I mean, they’re gonna find out what was done to you. And that wasn’t your fault, you have to remember that. And that shit for the cameras, well, they’ll let that slide, I suppose. But maybe it would be a good idea, for both of us, if we shut up about that blowjob.”

He wondered if Lee would question which one of them he was trying to protect. He wasn’t sure himself.

Lee frowned again. “I don’t regret that.”

“Christ, me neither,” Shaw said too quickly. “But maybe you don’t want your boss reading about it.”

“Yeah, maybe. Okay.” Lee looked at his bandaged wrists. “Is this for real?” he asked in a quiet voice.

Shaw watched him closely.

Lee raised his eyes again. “Or am I still in that room? Maybe I just went crazy.” He shrugged. “Maybe he’s killing me right now.”

“You’re okay now,” Shaw said.

“Maybe you’re not even real,” Lee said. “Maybe I just imagined someone there who wouldn’t hurt me.”

Shaw sighed. Was it Voltaire who said that if God didn’t exist, it would be necessary to invent Him? How could Lee trust anything anymore? Jesus, he’d been teetering on the line between drug-fucked and complete psychological breakdown for months now. Maybe he really thought he’d finally just slipped.

“You’re okay,” he repeated, wondering how many times he’d have to say it until Lee believed it. “I promise.”

And there was the look of desperate trust in Lee’s eyes again. “You saved me.”

“Yeah,” Shaw murmured uncomfortably. He didn’t regret it, he couldn’t, but he’d waited long enough to do it.

Lee bit his lip and looked at Shaw through his dark lashes. “When does your report end?”

Shaw shook his head. “What?”

“Your report,” Lee said. “Does it end when we got rescued?”

“Yeah,” said Shaw. “I suppose.”

Lee moistened his lips with his tongue. “Then do you wanna fuck?”

Shaw’s jaw dropped. “What?”

Lee stood and moved to stand beside him. He raised his hand and touched Shaw’s cheek gently. “Do you wanna fuck?”

The intensity in Lee’s green eyes shocked him. Shaw felt a jolt of electricity go straight to his balls. His mouth was suddenly dry. “That’s,
ah
, that’s probably not a good idea, Lee.”

“Don’t you want to?” Lee asked him. “I want to.”

Shaw didn’t know how to answer that. Of course he wanted it. He’d wanted it for a week, and it had been a long fucking week. “You’ve been through hell, Lee, and I, I don’t want to be the guy who takes advantage of that.”

“You’re not that guy,” Lee said. He leaned down, his lips close to Shaw’s ear. “You’re the guy who saved my life.”

Shaw leaned away from the brush of lips on his ear. “Yeah, well, I don’t want to be that guy either, Lee. Because I don’t want you to feel like you owe me.”

“But I do,” Lee breathed.