29. Not a Corset, but Regency-Era Stays

The next morning, Sarah was lying on the bed on her stomach, poking at the dead apps on her phone in a desperate attempt to consume any content, when a hard knock rattled the door.

As Blaze had instructed, she rolled off the side of the mattress onto the floor and dropped her phone into the shag carpet underneath the bed, swapping it for the smaller gun hidden under there.

Blaze was sitting on the white chair in the corner of the blizzard white-out bedroom, supposedly texting about weapons procurement and grimacing at the results.

Instead of Logan's gruff Russian accent demanding an update on Blaze's progress on securing the weapons, Micah said with his "New Yawk" accent that he tried to hide, "I've got your bag here. What'd you have delivered to my place?"

"Clothes," Blaze said. "If we're going to see Mary Varvara Bell this afternoon, I didn't want to wear these blood-soaked pants again that I've been wearing for two days."

Sarah wanted to ask him if he'd gotten clothes for her, too, but she figured that was something they could talk about after Micah left.

Through the closed door, Micah asked, his voice lower, "Didn't the doctor stitch up that wound right?"

If Micah was hiding the fact that he'd brought the doctor over, Logan must still be in the apartment.

Blaze said, "Yeah, it's not bleeding anymore, but these pants are disgusting. And that shot of penicillin in my ass hurt more than the gunshot."

"You're just lucky that you convinced her that you were current on your tetanus vaccination from being in the military. Last time I got shot, my GP couldn't confirm the date, and she must've given me a double. Couldn't use my fuckin' arm for a week. Stand back from the door while I throw this bag and your lunch in."

Blaze stayed where he was, sitting in the chair with his phone and one eyebrow raised, mocking Micah for his caution.

After the locks cranked, Sarah peeked over the edge of the bed to aim the gun in case Micah had switched sides.

From the sound of the steel door's hinges, he cracked the door open just enough to throw in a large shipping bag with a plop on the white oak wooden floor and then scoot in two plastic clamshells, a grocery bag full of water bottles, and a cup carrier with a large coffee and a small hot chocolate.

The door clicked closed, and the locks swished into place.

Sarah's mouth watered at the sight of the large cup and the dark brown scent of coffee steaming from it.

An hour later, after one of the best sandwiches Sarah had ever had in her life even though the city tomatoes were a little watery, Blaze motioned to the shopping bag sitting on the floor. "Mary Varvara Bell wants to see us again. I got us some clothes to change into."

Sarah tossed the bag on the bed to start rifling through it. "I gathered that."

The first set of clothes that came out was obviously far too big for her, so she set Blaze's outfit aside and looked deeper inside the bag.

Inside the bag were black slacks and a bright red shirt with horrifying ruffles like a frizzled chicken all over it.

She shook the fluffy abomination at Blaze. "Are you serious? This would get caught in farm equipment in five minutes."

Blaze barely glanced at the offending garment. "Luckily, I don't think there's going to be any farm equipment in Bell's office."

"I can't wear this."

Blaze said, "You will wear it, little kitten," in a deep voice, and the almost imperceptible shake of his head and purse of his lips told her to stop talking. But then he frowned. "Is that all that was in there?"

"I don't know. Did you have clothes for someone else in here?"

"There should be underwear for you, too." He stood and came over to probe farther down in the bag. "Here it is."

His hand came out of the bag holding a red corset.

"I don't think I can wear that. I'm not that kind of a girl. I could barely even wear those panties," she protested.

His chin and his voice dropped to a low growl. "You'll wear it because I told you to."

So like a good little girl, Sarah showered yet again that day and changed into the new clothes, which fit her moderately well.

The thick corset cinched her waist and didn't push up her bosom with cups so much as smooth over her breasts all the way to her armpits, more like Regency-era stays than a naughty Victorian waist-pincher.

The boning bit into her skin like steel, and brocade panels were thick with structural mesh or something inside.

The garment really was over-engineered.

"If these are stays, I should be wearing a chemise under them," she called through the door.

Blaze's voice was clipped. "It's only for a few hours, and we need to leave in thirty minutes. Wear it, kitten."

Fine, so the corset must be for sexytimes instead of historical accuracy. Fine.

She didn't even like pokey underwire bras, but it wasn't like she was going to be wearing this for the rest of her life.

It was reassuring that Blaze thought there would be sexytimes after the meeting, so he must think they were going to leave Bell's office alive.

She hadn't been confident about that.

The slacks and ridiculously fluffy blouse were tight around her bottom and loose in the top, and one side seam under her left arm felt stiff.

Whatever. It was clean. Farm girls couldn't be overly prissy when working with manure and dirt, but she was used to showers and clean clothes.

When she'd finished changing, she ducked back beside the bed to fetch her gun.

From the chair, Blaze said, "No, I'll carry. Not you."

She whipped her head around to glare at him. "Blaze, I am good with a gun."

His voice was low and tight. "I am not disputing your marksmanship. If the operation goes south, I want you to have plausible deniability. I'll tell them you had nothing to do with it, and you're no threat to anyone going forward. She'll let you go."

"She's not going to believe that. Your whole plan hinges on my aunt suddenly becoming an idiot."

"I don't think she's an idiot for even a minute."

"You, Twist, and Micah are going to waltz in there, pull guns on her, and convince her to leave us alone? She'll either have us all shot dead immediately, or else she'll lie and have us shot dead later."

"That's not the plan."

Sarah pointed to the bathroom, indicating the hot, damp conference with Twist and Micah. "That's what you told those guys."

"And nevertheless, I'll tell your aunt you had nothing to do with it."

Sarah flopped her hands, exasperated that he was being so dense. "She will never believe it."

"I'll make her believe it." Blaze tossed a black credit card onto the bed in front of her. "Use that to get a plane ticket to Iowa and then put everything you buy on it. Twist said he returned my money, and it should take at least six months until my estate is settled. Take it. Use it. Buy a new truck or an adjoining parcel of land to enlarge your farm. Anything."

Chills ran through her, though the steel bones of the corset kept her from slouching. "You're scaring me."

"Just if anything goes wrong," he said, his voice dropping to indicate the end of the conversation. "Just in case."

"But you're not planning on anything going wrong," she said, heaviness filling her heart. She touched her stomach, patting the reassuring solidity of the sexy red corset. "You're planning on both of us walking out of there."

"Yeah," Blaze said, texting on his phone. "Of course I am."

He wasn't looking at her.

The heaviness in her chest coalesced into dread. "You can't be thinking about giving them the weapons she wants. You know what they're going to do with them."

Blaze looked up at her, his blue eyes like Arctic ice. "If it will save you, I will give them the fucking weapons. I don't care what they do with them as long as you are safe back in Iowa."

"But they're going to try to take over the government."

"I will burn down the world to save you."

"I'm not worth it."

"You are. I have done terrible things in my life, killed innocent civilians who were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and led operators who trusted me into battle when I knew there would be fifty percent casualties or more. I led them in when I knew that almost all of us would die, and I led them in anyway."

His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.

Blue ink threaded through the skin on his forearms below the fabric folds.

Sarah's voice shook as much as the ground she was treading. "Is that what your tattoos mean?"

The muscles around his jaw bulged, and his eyes widened, unblinking. He was preternaturally still, carved from the ice of his eyes, until he said, "Yes."

"How many of them are there?" she asked.

His silence in the white-blank room was deafening as he paused, statue-hard, and said, "Forty-seven, and I know every name that each one represents. They are the skeletons of frogs, representing dead frogmen, my fellow Navy SEALs who I couldn't save, who I knew I couldn't save when I led the operation."

Sarah asked, "Did you complete the mission?"

That's when Blaze broke eye contact and leaned over, dropping his phone onto the floor and burying the heels of his hands in his eyes. "No."

She went over and put her arm around him. "But it was what you had to do, right?"

His voice was hoarse. "Yes, and this time, I will save you. The whole world can fucking burn, but I will save you."