I froze. “Did I say it was easy?” A beat. “Some days it’s the hardest fucking thing to do, moving forward, not letting my regrets hold me back.” A big chunk of the compacted dirt came off in my hands. “And you know who taught me that?”
“No.”
“Brit,” I said. “My sister is the most fearless person I know. Bad shit happened to her, but even if I put that aside, and I look at all the ways people tried to hold her back, opportunities were given to her with strings and taken away as easily as breathing. And she spent years with a target on her back.” I swallowed as the fury at what my little sister had been through, things I hadn’t been able to protect her from pushed forward. That was another one of those regrets that had become a building block, another reason I was at KTS trying to make the world a better place. “She’s lucky in so many ways, for sure, but she struggled, she pushed back, and she didn’t let past regrets stop her. I’m supposed to be the older brother, but it’s me being so damned proud of her, seeing her live her life and grab hold of the things she wanted that’s made me realize I can’t keep looking backward.”
When Ava didn’t say anything, I decided to lay my final card on the table. “And the person I want to look forward with is you. It’s always been you.”
Quiet. Long, drawn out, uncomfortable quiet.
Then soft, soft words. “I won’t ever be capable of a normal relationship.”
Continuing to brush the dirt away, I felt the rock give a little bit. “You’re capable of a lot more than you realize, sweetheart.”
More silence.
“And for the record, I don’t give a shit about normal,” I told her. “I just want you to be you.”
“Dan,” she sighed.
“No decisions while we’re in a cell,” I said.
“When should I make said decisions?”
“Once we’re out of here and safe.”
“Dan.”
“Ava.”
Another long moment of quiet. “Okay. Once we’ve made it out of here alive, I’ll think about what you said.” I breathed a sigh of relief. At least until she spoke again, her voice tinged with sharp. “Did you just call me sweetheart again?”
Fuck. “It slipped out,” I said. “Just pretend I complimented you on your superior sniper abilities and forget all use of endearments.”
“Dan.”
I focused on the wall. “I’ve almost got the stone out.”
“You’re a pain in my ass,” she muttered.
Since I knew the time for serious conversations had passed—for the moment, at least—I went for a joke. “And once again, you’re agreeing with my sister.”
She laughed quietly then groaned and grabbed her side. “Stop being funny.”
“It’s a gift. I can’t just stop out of nowhere.” And then—yes! I managed to get my finger behind that sliver of rock and began to coax it out.
It came, millimeter by millimeter.
Finally, it was free, light pouring into the space. I glanced through quickly, saw enough to assess that Ava was right in that we were still near the Mediterranean. More than that was difficult to discern, so I leaned back and used the light to make my way back to her, to assess her injuries.
“We need to cut the tracker out,” she said, holding up her arm and exposing the inside of her elbow to the light, where the small GPS chip was located. “We can use the underwire of my bra. Sharpen it against the rocks—”
“Wait, Ava.” No fucking way was I cutting into her skin. We did need to cut the tracker out, but it would be out of my damn arm. “I need to see that ankle.”
“That’s—”
“I need you in fighting shape,” I said. “If we’re going to get out of here, yeah?”
“I’m—”
“That’s the truth, yeah? I can’t fight to get us out and have to haul your ass out of here.”
“Stop interrupting me.”
“Then focus and stop being stubborn.” My tone was deliberately sharp, hoping to make her mad, hoping that the slight lacing of panic and fear still threading through her tone would disappear under a deluge of angry. Because when Ava got angry, she was the most dangerous enemy someone could face.
And because if Ava was angry, she wouldn’t be that little girl, scared and trapped in this cell again.
“Do I need to call you sweetheart again?”
She scowled. “Do I need to call you asshole?”
“If that gets you out of that boot and splinted up sooner then, yes.”
“I’m not taking this boot off. If I do, it’s going to swell up, and then I really won’t be able to do shit on it.” I wasn’t sure I agreed with her, but I was pretty certain that I needed to see the knife wound that was supposedly not serious on her abdomen.
“Fine,” I said.
“Fine?”
“Yup. Let’s move on.” I reached for the hem of her T-shirt, tugged it up, and—“Fuck, Ava. This isn’t a bit of blood.” The emergency bandage was soaked through, even with KTS’s special clotting solution. Dried blood coated her abdomen, and the white material of the binding was bright red.
“Maybe it’s more than a bit,” she said. “But there’s nothing to be done for it.”
“And how about your arm?” I asked. “Is that really a graze?”
She tugged up the sleeve of her shirt. “Yes,” she muttered, showing me the bright red gouge on her left triceps. “Just a graze. Thankfully, I moved fast enough to at least avoid that.”
I studied the mark, debated for a moment at retrieving my own medical kit for the knife wound, but knew we might need it later.
It was better to conserve resources.
Especially, if the rest of the team was in the same position as us.
Right then. On to the next thing. Reaching for my belt buckle, I yanked it out of its loops.
“Um,” Ava began. “What are you doing?”
I undid the button, tugged down the zipper.
“Getting naked.”
Eighteen
Southern Italy
Unknown hrs local time
Ava
“Getting naked?” I asked.
More like squawked, but that was mostly because he’d sprawled on his back and was shoving his pants down his legs.
“Seriously, Dan. What in the fuck are you doing?”
He reached into the front of his boxer briefs, and I slammed my eyes closed. Why in the fuck was I slamming my eyes closed? I’d seen it, and I’d loved it, and I wanted to get my hands and mouth and tongue all over it again—
But by the time I managed to open my eyes again, his hand was out, his pants were coming back up, and he was tossing a small package my way.
I caught it reflexively then winced, remembering just where his hand had been.
“New from the tech squad,” he said. “Small blade in the hem of my boxers. You’ll have to open it up though. Fred”—the man back at main headquarters who designed a lot of our equipment—“just threw it in at the last minute. I swear, he used duct tape and superglue.”