Twelve
Southern Italy
Unknown hrs local time
Ava
Why had I said that?
Oh God, why in the ever-loving fuck had I said that?
“What did you do to me, baby?”
My heart skipped a beat, lungs seizing for a moment. “Don’t call me baby.”
“What did you do to me, Ava?” A slight emphasis on her name, but no apology for the endearment present.
I let it slide. After all, I was the one with the giant mouth. “Any luck with the rock?”
“What, Ava?” he asked impatiently.
“I—”
What had I done? Regretted pushing him away? Yes. Wanted him every moment of the last two years? Double yes. Hated that I’d been a total bitch, even knowing that it was the only way to keep him at a distance? Yes, once again.
And now I’d spent the last ten minutes giving away too much—telling him that I’d been in this fucking cell before, that I’d broken my promise to never be back in it, and worst of all, that I’d done something to him.
“I’m a big boy, sweetheart,” he said. “I can handle it.”
“Don’t call me sweetheart,” I snapped. “And you know what? I didn’t do anything to you.”
“You’re right,” he told me.
“And even if I did end things rather abruptly between us, it was only for the better of the team. We’re not like Laila and Ryker.”
“No, we’re not.”
I listened to the soft scrape of rock against rock. “So, we couldn’t have kept on with what we were doing. It would have been bad for everyone.”
“Bad for you,” he murmured. “Bad for you and those solid walls you have up.”
My breath caught. “What?”
“What happened after we flew back that day?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit.” More crunching, the sound of pebbles hitting the ground reaching my ears. “We’d made plans to watch a movie. You’d promised to meet me in my quarters. What happened, caro? Why didn’t you show?”
Because I’d been reminded of exactly what I was.
One week of fantasy, of fantastic sex, of being more comfortable with another person than I’d ever felt in my life, and I’d thought maybe I could do it, could be with a man, could risk letting someone in.
Then I’d seen the files.
Laila had brought them to me just after Dan and I had returned to headquarters, asking me for insights on another team’s mission, promising she’d keep my name out of it, if I’d just offer my opinion on the team’s investigation. And . . . I’d seen what my family was doing all over again, remembered precisely what they were capable of.
No, I’d remembered precisely what I was capable of.
Not good. Not complete. Not worthy.
A total fucking shredded mess inside.
A person who’d done horrible, horrible things.
I couldn’t bring that into anyone’s life. Into his life.
So, I’d done the only thing I could.
I’d made sure he’d leave me alone.
“I’m not caro either.”
“Ava.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, pushing that day, the pictures, the memories away. This was nearly impossible, of course, considering where I was, but it was what I did. Lock everything down. Move forward. Forget. Forget. Forget that I was forgetting.
If you’re so good at forgetting, why isn’t that week with Dan a long-ago memory? my inner critic countered.
“And then when I came to see you, you were . . . hurting,” he said softly. “You wouldn’t let me help. Why?”
“I’m not discussing this. We need to figure out our exit. My ankle—”
“Isn’t going to get better in the next few minutes or hours,” he said. “We’re sitting in the dark, and I’m wiggling a rock. Tell me.”
“This is an old castle,” I said. “The walls are thick. They had a hell of a time wiring it for electricity and WiFi, even on the top story. The signal on our trackers—”
“Isn’t that why I’m wiggling the rock?” he asked. “Now, we’re trapped here. We’re not going anywhere in the next little while, so why don’t you tell me why you have those shadows in your eyes?”
Irritation prickled through me. “My eyes are none of your fucking business.”
“No,” he said. “They’re not. But I want to make it my business. Won’t you let me in?”
No.
I couldn’t let him in. Otherwise he’d see. Otherwise he’d know, and he wouldn’t look at me the same way. The soft would be edged out of his eyes and disgust would take its place.
I couldn’t have him look at me with disgust.
I just . . . couldn’t.
“Ava,” he warned.
“I’m not a woman you can push,” I muttered.
“I don’t want to push you,” he said. “I want to know you. I want to see what’s in your heart, to understand the things that make you happy, make you sad. I—Ava, what I feel for you . . . it’s unlike what I’ve ever felt for anyone else.” He inhaled and exhaled slowly. “I care about you.”
Those words shouldn’t warm me.
They should send me running.
Except, this time I couldn’t lock myself in my room. It wasn’t as simple as skipping a movie date or even as heart-wrenching as threatening to switch teams.
I was trapped in a cell with a man I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about for years, one who every time I came in close contact with, made me want to forget all about why I had the barriers in the first place.
Not so much as to protect me.
But to protect him.
“You shouldn’t, Dan,” I whispered. “You should forget me and move on to someone nice, someone innocent and sweet and lovely, whose worst flaw is that she bites her nails or leaves her socks on the floor.”
“I abhor when people bite their nails.”
I groaned. “That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point?”
A sigh, my words sharp. “My point is that you need someone who can open her heart.”
“And where am I supposed to find this lovely, sweet, innocent woman who opens up her heart to me and shows me all of that nail-biting and sock-leaving?” he asked.
“Not with me.”
The noise of scraping stopped and a few seconds later his voice was very close to my ear. “Don’t you see?”
I shivered. “What?”
“Don’t you see if I don’t find that with you, I won’t find it with anyone?”
“Except . . . I can’t be the person you want.”
“I don’t need you to be anyone other than yourself.”
It was impossible.
But he didn’t know that. Because . . . he didn’t know what I’d done.
Thirteen
Southern Italy
Unknown hrs local time