40
Sky
I’m wrong. Cullen doesn’t hate my idea at all. He despises it on all grounds. But that doesn’t matter. It’s the only idea we have, and if I can manage to pull it off, it will work.
Mostly because it has to.
“I don’t like that it’s you,” Cullen says, scrubbing his hands through his closely shorn hair while Liam fits me with a tiny recording device.
Truth be told, I don’t like it either. My nerves have become living things, writhing through my intestines like rabid snakes, but I’m not letting that—or Cullen—stop me.
Taking my shoulders, Cullen turns me toward him. I start shaking my head, sure he’s about to tell me to call it off, but instead, Cullen levels me with his gaze. “We’ve got your six, Reynolds.”
Cullen’s words bore into my core, filling me with warmth and confidence. And yes, they also make me want to strip that shirt off him and burn off some nervous energy just now, but that would mess up the button camera Liam has been so carefully adjusting on me. Standing between Liam and Cullen just now, the pair of muscle-bound men towering over me make me feel like a Lilliputian beside two giant Gullivers.
The Lilliputians got the upper hand on that one.
Holding on to that final thought, I step out from between the men and, with a steady hand, smudge my mascara.
The sun has been up for several hours when I slink into Denton Uncovered, see his frosted glass office door standing wide, and flinch in Oscar-winning surprise at finding Frank behind his desk. At least I don’t have to fake the rapid beat of my heart, which hammers against my ribs. “Frank.” I swallow. “I… I just wanted to pick up my things and apologize.” I bite my lip, barely lifting my gaze off the floor. “I know it wasn’t the best exit but, well, let’s just say you were right. About everything.”
Frank walks down the aisle separating the various work spaces toward where I’m hurriedly packing my belongings into a haphazard pile and perches his left buttock on my desk, the sweet bug-spray-like scent drifting off him. “Want to tell me what I was right about?” he asks, his voice so gentle, I’d believe it if I didn’t know better.
I shrug one shoulder. “Cullen. The… You were right about the temper, Frank. Please don’t make me say any more. I…” I look up at the ceiling, imagining the damage that Jaden did to Jaz and finding my eyes watering on cue. “I couldn’t do that again. I’m sorry I just slipped my resignation in like a coward, but… It got bad, Frank. Really, really bad.”
“Sky, honey.” Frank takes the liberty of wrapping an arm over my shoulders, which makes me glad the guys have no visual on me, lest they barge in and ruin everything before it starts. “I understand. The asshole’s hurt me too. Like I said, there’s a certain type to people like him. But it’s all right. I have you now, and I’ll stay with you as long as you want. You can even stay with me for a while.” Frank’s hand snakes down along my spine.
I swallow bile. “You know what I hate the most?” I say, leaning into his shoulder. “I can’t do anything about it.”
“Why in the world not?” Frank rubs a circle between my shoulders. “You’re a journalist, Sky. The one thing you know you can do is write. So start with a statement of what he’s done, and we’ll go from there.”
I stare at the paper Frank slides over to me, a pen following suit.
“We can press charges against him,” Frank coos into my ear. “A restraining order. Anything that might help you feel better.”
I pick up the pen and see Frank’s breath still, satisfaction glimmering in his sweaty face. Holding it just above the paper, I wait a few seconds before deflating his hopes. “There’s no point,” I say—which happens to be the truth, though not for the reason the asshole thinks. “No matter what I write, nothing will come of it. These damn vets, they’re above the law. They do shit, and it’s oh, my meds made me do it. And before you ask, yes, Cullen is one of those faux PTSD bastards, popping pills as an excuse to do whatever he goddamn pleases.”
Frank’s fingers halt, my breath stilling with them. Then the man moves his hand, trailing it across my face until my—no longer fake—anxiety-filled face tips up at him. “What if there was a way of proving meds had nothing to do with it?” he asks quietly. “Would you go to the police, then?”
I snort. “Impossible. I’ve been to Cullen’s. He’s more religious about those damn pills than most evangelicals are about church.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Frank’s smile flickers in concert with the satisfaction in his eyes. “I have it on good authority that Cullen Hunt is off his meds. They’ll confirm as much if the docs test him.”
Asshole. I freeze. As good as a damn admission. But good enough?
“Keep going, Reynolds,” Cullen’s iron order sounds through my earpiece, releasing something strange into my blood. Confidence. Resolve. For all his overprotectiveness, when the decision has been made, Cullen is backing me fully. Trusting me fully. A commander used to leading from the front, taking a support role with the same perseverance he does everything else. For the first time, I feel myself part of a unit, and damn it if it doesn’t make a world of difference just now.
I give Frank a hopeful gaze, my hand coming up to almost touch his cheek before falling away in despair. “It won’t. I’m telling you, he pops the pills like candy.” I swallow, blinking rapidly in rhythm with Frank’s quickening breaths. “Sorry, I was just hopeful there for a moment, but then reality struck. It’s no use.” I start pulling my things toward me, back into a pile. “I have to leave. It’s the only way of keeping safe from him.”
He licks his lips, the bulge in the front of his trousers stirring. Unlike my hesitating hand, the pad of his thumb does touch my lip, caressing the skin. “But what if it were true?” he whispers.
I scrape my upper teeth over my lip, worrying the skin where he’d just touched me, my eyes locked on his beady muddy brown ones. “Then I’d say you’re the most genius man to walk the earth. But please, don’t tease me.” I touch the tips of my fingers to his knuckles, his skin covered with a thin sheen of perspiration. “I don’t think I can stand another broken hope.”
“All raw truth, Sky.” He leans closer to me, his face inches from mine. “I replaced his prazosin with a placebo two weeks back.”
Did you now? Like personally? I lay my palm on his cheek. “If that’s the truth, you’re a damn genius. It means that all Cullen’s antics, all the violence, that’s the true him. Not some meds. Not on paper, not anywhere.”
“Oh, it’s true, sweetheart. I knew Hunt was a ticking time bomb. It was my responsibility to show the world that too.”
“That’s brilliant,” I breathe, letting the tease of my open mouth hover between us for a moment before speaking. “But dangerous as hell. What were you thinking, breaking into his house? He could have hurt you.”
“Didn’t have to, sweetie.” He gives me a triumphant grin. “He’s too lazy to pick up his stuff, so it was just a matter of switching it out of his mailbox. I did him a favor, if you ask me. What kind of entitled ass leaves drugs in a mailbox?”