“She might.”
“No.” He ran the brush down the mare’s back and over her flank in a firm sweep. Kiyomi was a strong, determined woman, and when she set her mind on something, not even one of Chloe’s explosive devices could move her. “I hate that she’s doing this,” he finally admitted. That was the crux of it.
“I know. But do you understand why?”
“Aye. Vengeance. Justice.” Didn’t matter what she called it, it wasn’t reason enough to place her life and their future in jeopardy.
“Maybe it’s something more than that.”
He heaved out an irritated sigh, annoyed that she was pushing and digging instead of letting it alone. “And what would that be?”
“You.”
He stilled, didn’t respond for a few moments, her words hitting too close to home.
His gaze strayed to his cane, propped against the corner of the stall. Mocking him. “I don’t want to see her get hurt again.” Or worse—and it kept him up at night. “I couldn’t stand it. It’s bad enough every time I see the scars on her shoulder…”
He clenched his jaw, thrust back in time to that terrible moment when he’d lined up the shot in that field. When he’d been forced to do the unthinkable and shoot her to have any chance of saving her life.
It haunted him still. Always would. It was an ever-present reminder of how close he had come to losing her forever, and he never wanted either of them to go through anything like it again.
“I know,” Megan said softly, and he didn’t argue, because aye, she likely did understand. “But just talk to her. Don’t leave things like this. You’ll regret it if anything happens.”
An arrow of fear buried itself in his heart at her words. At the thought of something going wrong, and losing Kiyomi. He’d survived being wounded. Being taken hostage and held in captivity. He’d survived torture and the long, endless road during recovery.
He wouldn’t survive losing Kiyomi. There was no way he could ever bear that amount of pain. Without her, life wouldn’t be worth living. He would eat a bullet to end his suffering.
Megan’s footsteps faded away behind him, lost under another rumble of thunder. The mare shied, ears back, prancing nervously. “Shhh,” he soothed, stroking her neck. “It’s all right. There’s a good lass.”
When she’d calmed more, he grabbed his cane, exited her stall and went across the corridor into the tack room to put away the brush, deep in thought. He wanted to mend things with Kiyomi, but he didn’t know how.
She wouldn’t listen to his concerns, wouldn’t stand down or stand aside through what was coming no matter what he said, not even if he begged. And he would never be okay with her putting herself in danger again.
Over the drum of the rain on the roof and the rush of it hitting the path outside, he heard footsteps approaching. He glanced toward the door, expecting to see Megan returning, and stilled when a jagged bolt of lightning backlit the familiar figure standing in the open stable doorway.
Kiyomi stepped inside wearing a long, black leather trench coat that came to her knees, and a pair of high-heeled boots that disappeared beneath the hem. She paused near the first stall to push her rain-soaked hood back, and their gazes locked across the length of the stable.
His pulse accelerated, his awareness of her heightened as she started toward him with her innately sensual gait, those liquid, dark eyes on his. There was nothing hesitant about her. She was pure, sensual confidence as she came toward him.
Every thought in his head vanished, his entire body reacting to the hungry way she was looking at him. As if she wanted to strip him right here and devour him whole.
He straightened, all his muscles going taut. She had always tested his control, but this time it was different. Frustration mixed with longing and a dark, raw possessiveness with every step she took, slowly erasing the distance between them. She knew she was playing with fire, and wanted them both to burn.
“They more settled now?” she asked, pausing just outside the tack room door.
“Aye.” He turned away to tidy a few things lying around, hating what was happening between them. How tangled his thoughts and emotions were. He craved the closeness and peace he’d had with her just a few days ago, back when she was safe and everything in their world had made sense to him.
“Are you planning to ignore me until this is all over?”
He stilled, setting his jaw as he reined in the sudden rise in his temper. Having a go at her now wouldn’t do anything but drive her away. Megan’s words played over and over in his head. She was right. He couldn’t live with more regrets. Not when they involved his wife. “I’m not ignoring you.”
A long sigh came from behind him. “Marcus. Will you look at me?”
He turned to face her and raised an eyebrow, waiting. “Well? Why did you come out here?”
“To talk.”
“Fine, then talk.”
She gave him a curious look, as if she was trying to figure out what he was thinking and couldn’t quite read him. They rarely argued, so that wasn’t a surprise. “I know you don’t approve of any of this.”
“Not true. I approve of taking down the kidnapping ring, and Tarasov with it. But there are plenty of other ways to do that by tipping off the police and feeding them everything they need to know without any of you being directly involved.”
She watched him for a moment, eyes dark and mysterious as a midnight sky. “Why do you think I asked Eden to mix me those sedatives?”
“To make him talk. You said as much to the others.”
“No. It’s because I would be willing to capture him instead of killing him.”
Marcus stared at her, sure he had misheard. “Come again?”
“I’ll dose him, interrogate him to get what we need, then knock him out and hand him over.”
He frowned, suspicious. It was only a partial concession on her part, but she’d never backed down from something she wanted before, even if it endangered her life. “Why the change of heart?”
She lowered her gaze, staring at the ground. “You.”
“What about me?” He’d made his feelings on the matter plain enough before. Letting Tarasov live would take away the worry that Kiyomi would be caught and face a murder charge.
Her gaze lifted to his, and she started toward him again. Sensual, sinuous grace concealing the lethal weapon she was. “I know you’re worried.”
Of course, he was bloody worried. “You’re my wife.”
“Yes, but it’s not just because you’re afraid something would go wrong on my end.” She stopped within arm’s reach, her gaze delving deep into his. “It’s because you’re afraid you won’t be able to protect me if it does, because of your leg.”
His insides constricted, her instinct dead on. A sodding bull’s eye in the painful wound that would never heal.
He’d served in one of the most elite military units in the world. He had the training, discipline and experience to still be an operator. But the injuries he’d sustained in Syria meant he would never be that man again. The plain, brutal truth was, he could well be a liability to the team on an op. And it would kill him to be unable to protect her if something went wrong.