We’re good. Everything worked out, Jesse told himself in an attempt to shake the feeling that things were almost too good. He’d been convinced someone would open fire at the wedding or take aim when he and Ella had had their talk near the woods. His anxiety-driven thoughts had also come to the conclusion that his team would need to breach the property in Albania to assist Sydney.
Always assuming the worst meant Jesse had multiple solutions mapped out in his mind ahead of time for when that inevitable shoe dropped—because it always did. Statistically speaking, a streak of perfectly executed missions as a Ranger undoubtedly ended, often with the loss of life. Why would his new work with Falcon be any different? But he sure as hell hoped it would be.
Jesse turned his attention to Ella sitting across from him and found her watching him instead of the city of Paris unfolding below like one of those pop-up Christmas cards.
“I know you’re not happy about Paris,” she began, “but thank you for letting me come here anyway.”
Jesse clutched the chair arms before he did one of two things: hauled Ella onto his lap or opened the emergency door and jumped without a chute. Because what in God’s name was he thinking in taking Ella to Paris to draw out a madman?
Despite his normal method of anticipating the worst and planning for it, he’d refused to even contemplate any worst-case scenarios that ended in Ella’s death. That was where he drew the line when it came to overthinking.
“Are you really thanking me?” he asked as she fidgeted with the heart-shaped diamond ring and plain white gold band on her finger.
He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to buy the engagement ring when he’d only gone for bands, but when he saw the heart-shaped diamond, he’d been unable to stop himself.
“You could’ve easily locked me away. But you listened to what I wanted, and for that, yes, I’m thanking you,” she murmured softly, her breathy tone strikingly similar to the one she’d used in the jet bedroom twenty-four hours ago.
And had that really happened? For a minute, he’d thought it’d been a dream. That he’d hit his head and made the entire erotic scene up during his jerk-off session. But their time together in New York had proven that Ella was anything but shy when it came to sex, and her sexual appetite matched his own.
Ella’s sexual appetite . . . The idea of her unleashing her passionate side with Brian, or hell, any man, made him unbelievably jealous. It was painful to acknowledge that she’d most likely had more than one lover in the three years since he’d screwed up and stuck to the “what happens in New York, stays in New York” deal.
He mulled over Ella’s words again. Her unexpected thank-you. He deserved a sarcastic, Thanks for putting me in danger, you dickhead, not thank you for taking me to Paris.
Maybe I should have locked you up instead and spent that time making up for my three-year mistake. The first lick he’d taken of her pussy had driven him wild, and he’d had to rein himself in, especially on board a flight with his teammates. After tasting her, he only wanted more. But after those mind-numbing twenty minutes together, Ella had made it clear her expectations where he was concerned hadn’t changed.
Just before he’d left the room, she’d whispered, “You’re still you. I’m still me. Neither of us have changed. This was about . . . releasing tension. I still don’t know if I can trust you not to hurt me.”
“Are you going to say anything or just sit there looking all broody?” Sassy Ella was back, and that more familiar tone pulled him free of his thoughts.
“What do you want me to say?” He opened his palms. “You’re in this mess because of me. There’s a target on your head because eighteen months ago, I failed to complete my op successfully. So, yes, this is my fault. I let myself get distracted, and now there’s a psychopath out there looking for revenge because of it when he should be dead.”
Ella’s mouth opened, and she stopped fiddling with the rings. “Wow. Okay.” She unbuckled even though the plane was descending. “You really think that’s why we’re here?” Once on her feet, she set her hand to the ceiling for balance. “That’s why we’re in this mess? Your head must still be firmly in your ass, and I can’t believe for a minute, I’d been hopeful that you had removed it.”
Jesse flinched at her stinging words and sharp tone laced with frustration, then said, “My head has only ever been in my . . .” When it comes to you.
Her eyebrows dipped, and he felt more fighting words coming for him. “You chose to become a contract killer. You chose taking lives over a life with me.” Her tone was more heartbroken than angry, even though it was clear to him she preferred not to expose the sadness. “Your decision to become a hitman is why we’re here. Not because you left someone alive.” She leaned forward a bit and added, “You screwed up.”
Jesse shut his eyes, unable to look at her as he considered whether or not to defend his job, something he’d never had to do before. But this was Ella, and he needed her to understand. “Someone had to do what I did,” he began calmly. “My job was a necessary evil. Things aren’t always black and white with the Agency. They’re notorious for living in the gray. When diplomacy and military force fails, people like me are sent in to handle matters. The third option.”
She tipped her head as if not quite buying what he was selling. “Is that always the case?”
Zoran. No, she was right about him. “Sometimes the Agency changes the narrative to suit their needs. Zoran was well outside that gray area. We probably shouldn’t have gone. I shouldn’t have gone. Bad guy or not.”
“And now we’re paying the price because of it.”
“I’m sorry.” I’m sorry for a lot more than that though.
“Sorry for what, Jesse? Taking the job in the first place or sorry that you missed your mark?” she challenged.
His shoulders sagged under the weight of remorse and the growing distance he felt forming between them once again. He couldn’t change his past, his time with the CIA, and if he were honest with himself, he wouldn’t want to either. Yes, his time in the Army had taken him away from Ella, but he’d been serving his country, which was something he couldn’t regret. Would she ever be able to separate the two—his service and their time apart? “You should sit.”
“I . . .”
“Sit with Savanna,” he suggested, removing his seat belt. “I’ll walk you there. Don’t want you falling.”
She didn’t fight his offer to help, which was a relief, and she allowed him to hold on to her arms from behind for support as they walked down the aisle toward the front of the cabin.
Savanna looked back and forth between the two of them before gesturing for Ella to sit opposite her and Griffin since there were only two seats per row.
Once Ella was buckled, Jesse shot her one last look, finding she’d tucked her lip between her teeth as if still searching for what to say.
“We’ll be landing soon.” He turned to leave but stilled when she reached out and laid a hand on his arm.
Jesse stared at Ella’s delicate hand, waiting for her to speak.
“When?” she softly asked.
He angled his head. “When what?”