Anytime he thought about Brian having sex with Ella, he’d had to patch another hole in one of his walls. But it was that or shoot Brian.
“I think you two should wait to”—Deb took her two index fingers and linked them together—“do the sex thing until your wedding night. I’m assuming you two have already done it before, but you know, maybe wait for the next time.”
“Mom.” Ella cupped her free hand to her cheek, her face heating up.
“Just think about it. It’s only one more night.” Deb shrugged. “Now, get dressed. I need your help. Lots more to do and no time to do it. Skedaddle, Jesse. If you stay in here while she gets changed, I have a feeling those clothes will come back off.” She twirled her finger in the air. “Now, you look less like a killer and more like a lovesick puppy.”
Oh, dear God.
If Deb only knew just how right on the money she was.
Jesse plastered a smile on his face that he hoped conveyed “perfect son-in-law” when she came closer and hooked her arm with his and tugged him toward the door.
Jesse stole one last look at Ella, wishing he could stay with her and finish what they almost started. But Deb was right for reasons she didn’t know.
He’d already screwed with Ella’s heart three years ago, and Zoran was proof of the fact it might never be safe for him and Ella to be together. For real, at least.
And hell, maybe Ella really did hate him. Maybe she wouldn’t give him another chance even if he dropped to his knees and begged.
Chapter Nine
Jesse smiled as he held the framed photo, taken at Rory and Chris’s wedding that summer, of him with his arm around his beaming sister. Rory had made a beautiful bride, radiant in a dress Ella had handmade for her. It’d been a toss-up that day who’d been the most teary-eyed: Rory, her badass SEAL husband, or their mother. Jesse had done his best not to stare at Ella, the maid of honor, while Rory and Chris had exchanged vows, wondering if he and Ella would be doing the same one day.
And now we’re having a fake wedding. He returned the photo to the mantel where his sister had insisted it be displayed, alongside another wedding photo in a matching silver frame. That one was of the wedding party, minus the bride and groom, and he knew Rory purposefully chose that one because it seemed to prominently feature the stunning maid of honor in her pale yellow flowy dress.
The photo also captured the fact that Jesse’s attention was focused on Ella and not the photographer. Another reason his sister surely set the picture there.
“Griffin and Savanna just rolled up in his truck,” Jack called out, joining Jesse in the living room, and Jesse tore his focus away from the photo and over to his teammate.
He hadn’t quite figured Jack out, but he had a feeling there was a lot more beneath the surface than the jokes and wisecracks. Shortly after Jesse had met Chris, Rory clued him in that Chris buried a lot of his trauma and pain behind humor.
Jesse wasn’t sure if that was also Jack’s deal, but he knew when it came to operating, Jack flipped some type of mental switch and transitioned into a man you didn’t want to fuck with—exactly how Jesse preferred the men he fought alongside to be.
“Ella not with them?” He hadn’t seen her since she left for the ranch six hours ago.
“No, Griffin texted a few minutes ago that Chris and Rory are bringing Ella back here with them.” Jack’s focus went over Jesse’s shoulder to the mantel as if he knew what had been on Jesse’s mind.
Jesse checked his watch. It was zero one hundred hours. Technically, New Year’s Eve and his wedding day.
The team had decided they’d be leaving for Paris on New Year’s Day instead of waiting until the second. The less time they spent in Walkins Glen, the better for everyone there.
“How long were you married?” Jesse asked him. “If you don’t mind my asking.”
“Too long. And not long enough, I suppose.” Jack palmed his bearded jaw. “Jill wanted me to leave the Army. I tried my hand at civilian life, but it didn’t suit me.”
“That’s why you joined Ground Branch for the CIA?”
“Yeah, I think I did that more so because the admiral wanted someone watching over his daughter.” Jack smiled. “You’ve met the admiral. He’s rather overprotective when it comes to Natasha. Plus, I’ve known her since we were kids. Almost as long as you’ve known Ella. I’m sure if Ella had been out in Algeria or wherever chasing terrorists, you’d have had her six.” He shrugged when Jesse remained quiet.
What could Jesse say though? The idea of Ella having a dangerous job made him nauseous. It was bad enough his sister had been a globe-trotting adventure-seeker, always getting herself into some kind of predicament.
A while back, when he learned Rory had been whipped and tortured by pirates, he and A.J. had sought out and “handled” the men who’d hurt her. Six-feet-under kind of handled. A.J. hadn’t had an issue with killing those men, so maybe, just maybe, he didn’t truly hate Jesse for the work he’d done for the Agency. Although, A.J. probably hated him right now for potentially having put his sister in danger, as he should.
“I’m happy with what I do now. Working for Gray. Hell, even Carter. I guess those two are the yin to the other’s yang. Or whatever. You know what I mean. They balance each other.”
“Carter’s the devil you don’t want to dance with,” Jesse said based on what little he knew of his mysterious boss. “And I wouldn’t go so far as to call Gray some type of saint, but he’s about as schoolboy as they come.”
“Don’t let Gray fool you. He’s not quite as buttoned-up as everyone might think.” Jack arched a brow and looked behind him as if checking for his best friend to ensure Gray didn’t hear whatever he might say next. “You know, the day his helo crashed years ago, he was declared dead for about thirty seconds. Gray said the place he went to after that wasn’t exactly sunshine and rainbows.”
“What do you mean?” Jesse asked under his breath. “Gray thinks he went to Hell? I’m guessing that was the morphine they were pumping through him while they tried to save part of his leg.” Unsuccessfully.
“I don’t know, brother. I just know Gray says he wasn’t greeted at the pearly white gates, and he said after the shit he’d done in his life, he hadn’t been surprised. But he was given another chance, and he was going to do his best to earn his way off Hell’s waiting list.”
Huh. That conversation took an unexpected turn. “And you think people can find redemption?”
“Fuck, I hope so. Or aren’t we all going to Hell?” Jack held his palms in the air. “I know I’ve got front-row seats to that inferno if not.” He pointed to Jesse. “And you, my friend, were a contract killer. I feel like God’s probably not your greatest fan.” He winked, switching back to humor, and yeah, Jesse was right. Jack was a lot like Chris. Jesse had struck a nerve during the conversation, and Jack felt the need to joke his way free of whatever emotions pushed to the surface as a result.
“They’re here,” Sydney called out from the kitchen.
Thank—Jesse lifted his eyes to the ceiling—God . . .?