Liam held on, securing Jaz in his arms as her protests died away and the hitches in her breath became more frequent, devolving into sobs. Pressing his nose into her hair, he rocked them gently, holding them through the torrent of emotions that finally came.
“I’m sorry,” Jaz said finally, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. “This is stupid. I’m—”
“Safe,” Liam finished for her. “And yet it all flashes back before you when you least expect it.”
She blinked, frowning at him. “How did you know?”
Liam shrugged one shoulder. “Not my first boom.”
Jaz shook her head. “I feel so stupid. I’m not even the one who got hurt.” She moved her arm experimentally. “You’re the one who took the brunt, and yet I’m the one blubbering about it.”
“Not stupid.” He tucked some wayward dark tresses away from her forehead. “You’re human.”
“You’re human too, even if you never act like it.” She chuckled as she wiped her eyes, but it held no real humor. “Why can’t I be as strong as you are?”
“You are,” he countered. “It’s just in a different way. Hell, in some ways—in many ways—I think you’re even stronger.”
Liam had meant to sound comforting, but as he said the words, he realized how damn true they were. Jaz was strong, stronger than him in all the ways that counted. As worthy an adversary as she was a partner. And he loved that about her. Loved many, many things about her.
The thought of losing her in that explosion made him tighten his arms around her, his heart seeking the comfort of her small form as much as giving it. He inhaled the coconut fragrance of her hair and savored the breath. Savored her. And not because she was Kyan’s little sister, or a client, or anything else. But because she was Jaz. And he loved her.
And that, that was the scariest thing he’d ever experienced.
28
Jaz
Jaz awoke to the scent of clean male musk and the feel of a solid, muscular body against her back. The heavy arm draped over her felt like a weighted blanket, seductively beckoning her back into the folds of a deep, safe sleep. Jaz shifted just enough to glance at her watch. Eight in the morning.
“There is no way you’re actually asleep,” she murmured.
A soft snort tickled the back of her neck. “Not for a couple of hours now, no.”
Jaz rolled over, looking up at Liam’s face, the overnight stubble over his jaw underscoring the defined lines. She remembered last night. Her racing heart. The nightmares. The overwhelming irrational fear that she couldn’t chase away with any amount of logic. And she remembered him. The way Liam had turned the tide. His words. His actions. His touch.
“It’s eight,” Jaz said. “Aren’t you behind on twenty-five things by now?”
“I’m exactly where I want to be.”
Letting her sleep. As if he’d known that it was only the safety of his arms and body that let Jaz finally settle into restful oblivion. Had anyone ever done that for her before? She knew the answer to that. Stretching out on her elbow, Jaz kissed Liam softly on the lips.
He scoffed, a small blush touching the top of his cheek. When he spoke, though, his voice was matter-of-fact, with a touch of military command. “Stop lazing about like a cat. There’s training to do.”
Jaz couldn’t argue with that—and the reassurance that she could seek his strength at night and still be treated as an athlete in the morning meant more than Jaz had words to explain.
“Something occurred to me this morning,” Jaz said as she finished lacing up her shoes moments later, Liam already waiting by the door. “You have this habit of staying one step behind me when we run. Afraid I’ll see you huffing and puffing?”
He raised a brow. “Yes. Exactly.”
Jaz put her hands on her hips. “Let’s race.”
Liam shook his head and opened the door, letting Jaz out ahead of him. “I need to have you in my line of sight and I’ve yet to grow a third eye.”
“You don’t need a third eye, you just need a circle. You. Me. The track. Eight miles.”
“Eight miles on the track? Do you know how many laps that is? Too many for me to count, that’s how many.” Liam stepped outside the building ahead of Jaz, then stood aside to let him pick up her run. Though his injuries had to still be hurting, he moved with his usual predatory grace, his gaze always roving. Always surveying everything. As if that was the most natural thing in the world.
“Did you always want to be a SEAL?” Jaz asked.
“Did you always want to be a climber?”
“Stop answering a question with a question.”
“Why?”
Jaz groaned. “Fine. I’ve wanted to be a climber since I went to Billy Harrison’s birthday party in sixth grade. It was at a rock gym, and there was a tower that was so tall that by the time I was halfway up, I couldn’t hear anyone on the ground anymore. I think it was the first moment of my life when there wasn’t someone telling me what to do. No stage directions. No costumes. No lines. Everything I did up there was my choice.” She trailed off, watching a flock of birds move across the sky, wings flapping in a perfect V formation. Was their flight an ultimate choice or an ultimate script?
“You disliked acting?”
“I enjoyed many parts of it. The cameras, the attention, the chance to be different people. But it was everything in between that got to me. Every moment was scheduled. Acting classes. Auditions. My parents even took Kyan and me out of school for a while. When I discovered climbing, I discovered what being in charge of myself felt like. And I like it.”
“You don’t always like it,” Liam murmured.
Jaz swatted at him.
Liam slid easily just out of reach and, though Jaz couldn’t be sure, she thought she spotted a hint of a smile touching the corner of his mouth.
Bastard. “So. SEAL. Let me guess—it was your life dream to be yelled at, kept awake for days on end, and then spend a few years in third world countries being shot at.” When Liam didn’t answer right away, Jaz looked over to find his gaze distant, the soft scrape of their sneakers against the ground the only sound to be heard.
Just when she’d given up on getting an answer, Liam pulled up closer to her and pointed to the high school track they were passing. “I never wanted to go to military school,” he said, changing course from trail to track. “It was something I was forced into and eventually learned to love.” As they circled the lined red turf, he laid out the basics for her. Lisa’s assault. Patti’s payoff. His revenge. Except he didn’t call it that.
So she served the word up for him.
“Revenge?” Liam glared at her, his pace getting faster. “How is supporting them and taking care about every part of their life revenge? For someone who’s supposed to be in grad school, you have a pitiful understanding of the English language.”
“Well, let’s see.” Jaz sped up to keep in step with him. “Ensuring someone is supported materially while cutting them off emotionally. Remind me again, who did that to who?”
“It’s not the same. I was a child.” He went faster still, his muscles slickening with sweat.