Chapter 33

“We have the final casualty report.”

Gabe turned from the ICU room’s observation window as Quinn approached.

Please, he thought, say all the tangos are dead. Then he could call Giancarelli with the news and tell Audrey?—

Scratch that, he would not tell her anything. It was easier on them both if he just faded away now. But he’d make sure the news got to her that it really was over, that the threat was completely neutralized.

Ifthe threat was neutralized.

He studied Quinn’s impassive expression and swore under his breath. “How many got away?”

“The police reports Harvard hacked into only list fourteen casualties of the ‘gang fight.’ Rorro Salazar’s unaccounted for.”

“No, they have to be wrong. I hit him in the chest. It was a kill shot.”

“They found a Kevlar vest near Jacinto’s body. Bullet still lodged in it.”

“Goddammit.” He looked through the window again. Audrey slept fitfully with her head on Bryson’s bed, his hand gripped in both of hers as if she was afraid to let go of him. “The little shit should be dead.”

“Agreed. The men are packing up to go home, but we can stay a few more days if you want to go after him.”

Tempting.

Very, very tempting.

Except he was exhausted past his limit, and so were his men.

And he had to get away from Audrey. The longer he stood there staring at her, the harder it was to leave. He had to put the safe distance of a continent between them before he did something stupid, like beg her to come with him when he knew she wouldn’t.

He rubbed a hand over his face. “No. Let the Colombians deal with him. Let’s chalk this up as a win and get the hell out of here.”

Quinn nodded but hesitated and looked through the window at Audrey and Bryson. “Are you going to say goodbye?”

“No.” Turning away, he fell into step beside Quinn without a backward glance. It was the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life, and his chest burned with the pain of it.

Gabe’s footsteps echoed along the stark, white corridor, each thud of his boots on the linoleum a harsh reminder of the distance he was putting between himself and Audrey. In his periphery, he could sense Quinn’s gaze on him, sharp and piercing like an arrow through his mental armor.

It was easier this way.

Quinn stayed silent until they reached the parking lot and climbed into the 4Runner. He started the engine but then sat there, hands on the wheel, gearshift still in park. Then he turned in his seat and opened his mouth as if to say something.

“Don’t.” Gabe shut his eyes, blocking out the concern so evident in his best friend’s usually stoic expression. “What did you do with Cocodrilo?”

Quinn shut his mouth with a click of his teeth, then gave a resigned sigh. “We handed him over to Tuc’s men. They’ll make sure he’s passed to the right agency for prosecution.”

“Good. Then let’s get outta here.”

Quinn still didn’t shift into drive. “Gabe, man, you can’t leave her like this without?—”

“Just drive.”

* * *

Audrey felt eyes on her and lifted her head. The observation windows across the room were empty, nobody out in the hallway. She must have been dreaming, caught somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, because she swore she’d heard Gabe’s voice just a moment ago.

Unlikely. She hadn’t heard a word from him since he called to tell her Bryson was safe.

Sitting up, she rolled her neck around on her shoulders and tried to stretch the crick out of her spine. Goodness, she needed a real bed and about twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep. Then, after a good meal and about a gallon of coffee, then maybe she’d have the strength to face Gabe again.

She wasn’t about to let the stupid man push her away out of some misguided sense of honor. What they had was not a fling—she’d had enough flings in her life to know that for sure—and what she felt for him was not a fluke of the circumstances. It was real and deep and, truthfully, a little bit frightening.

Bryson’s hand shifted in hers. She gazed down at him, and her eyes filled with tears yet again. Crap. Hadn’t she cried enough today? First out of relief, then out of sorrow when she finally saw Bryson. With his left eye sealed shut and his lips cracked and bleeding, he looked like he’d gone several rounds with a heavy-weight boxer and lost every one. His skin was papery and so pale that his veins stood out in stark contrast on his arms and the backs of his hands.

How could they do this to him?

His hand shifted again, and she realized he was squeezing her fingers. Was he awake? She studied his face. It was hard to tell with everything so swollen, but his one good eye was definitely open.

“Brys?”

“Hi, sis,” he whispered.

If those weren’t the two most beautiful words anyone had ever said to her. She couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. They poured down her cheeks, soaking into his hospital johnny as she hugged him as tightly as she dared.

His hand settled on her head. “Don’t cry. Please.”

“Sorry. Can’t…stop.” But she managed to choke back the sobs. “I thought I’d never see you again. I thought I’d never be able to tell you I love you and I’m sorry I’m not the sister you want me to be and?—”

“Shh.” His voice was thin, a ghost of his usual robust one, wavering on the edge of consciousness. “You are, sweetie. I wouldn’t change you for anything.”

“But the condo and the money and my stupid paintings and?—”

“Audrey, I was wrong about all that. I just wanted you to be safe and happy after our parents died, and I didn’t know how else to help other than throw money at you.”

“But I never wanted money. All I wanted was you. My big brother. The nannies and boarding schools and cars and huge allowance didn’t replace our family.”

“I know that now. I was an idiot.”

She sniffled and wiped at her eyes with her free hand. “I thought I did something wrong, something to make you want to push me away. I tried so hard to change, to be the person I thought you wanted me to be, but I just... I couldn’t. I’m just me. I’m brash and impulsive and I wear my heart on my sleeve, and I know that sometimes I can be too much but?—”

He swore softly. “I’m so sorry, Audrey.” His grip on her hand tightened momentarily before loosening again. “You were never too much. You were never not enough. I was just blind and too caught up in my own shit to see that, to see you.”

It struck her that, although Bryson had been a young adult when their parents died, he’d been just as devastated and scared by the abrupt loss. While she’d tried to get his attention by spiraling out of control, he’d been trying to cope by controlling everything around him, including her. They had both been dealing with their grief in their own flawed ways.

“I’m sorry, too,” Audrey whispered. “I should have tried to understand what you were going through.”

“You were young.”

“I could have been more sensitive, though. I could have?—”

He lifted a hand to quiet her. “None of that matters now. We both made mistakes. Let’s just... let’s just mend things from here on.”

“Yes, let’s do that.” Audrey stroked her brother’s hand, her heart feeling heavy yet oddly lighter at the same time. It wasn’t a full solution, but it was a start. They still had a long way to go—a lifetime of misunderstanding wouldn’t be mended overnight—but for perhaps the first time, Audrey felt hope for their strained relationship.

“Are you happy?” Bryson asked suddenly. “That’s all I need to know.”

“I am.” She thought of Gabe and smiled. “And, Brys, I’ve met someone. One of the men that rescued you. He’s—well, I love him.”

“The big guy out in the hall?”

She sat up, but the hallway was still empty.

Bryson made a sound that might have been a laugh. “He’s not there now. He left, but he stood there for a long time just staring at you.”

“He… left?” She shook her head, eschewing the doubts before they entered her mind. Gabe probably just went to help his men do whatever they did after a mission. Debriefing or whatever. He’d be back. He wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.

“Does he love you, too?” Bryson asked.

She smiled. “I think so, but he’s being stubborn about it.”

“Hm.” He closed his eye and was silent for a long time. She almost thought he was asleep, but then he asked softly, “Want me to kick his ass for you?”

Audrey laughed at the absurdity of that mental image. “How about you relax and work on healing first? The doctors say you’ll be okay enough to travel to a hospital in the States tomorrow. Chloe and the boys will be waiting there.”

“My boys.” A tear trickled from his good eye. “My God, I’ve been such a fool. I was doing the same thing to them as I did to you. I kept thinking I’d never see them again and they wouldn’t even remember me as anything but—but an ATM. Do you think they’ll forgive me? I’ve missed so much.”

“That’s the great thing about kids.” She tucked the sheet around her brother’s shoulders and leaned over to kiss his bruised forehead. “They’re remarkably better at forgiving and forgetting than adults.”

* * *

Bone-deep tired, his side aching from the hole in it, heart aching because, God, he really did not want to leave Audrey, Gabe hobbled aboard the plane with Quinn to find his team already there. He’d expected a rowdy celebration with lots of noise and possibly alcohol, but the whole lot sat quiet as churchgoers. They must all be as exhausted as he was. He nodded at them and took his seat, leaned his head back, and shut his eyes.

“Bristow,” Ian said in his usual caustic tone. “There’s something I need to say to you. Sir.”

He groaned. “Save it. I’m not in the mood, Reinhardt.”

Clothing rustled behind him, a lot of moving and shifting of bodies. Jesus, what was the guy doing now?

Gabe glanced over his shoulder. Ian stood in the center of the aisle, one arm in a sling, the other raised, his hand forming a blade across his forehead.

As one, the rest of the men stood and saluted.

Gabe looked at Quinn in surprise, but he was also standing.

“Sir,” Ian said without the slightest hint of mockery. And was that respect in his dark eyes? “We’re glad to have you back.”

Humbled, flattered, Gabe pushed to his feet and returned their salute. “It’s good to be back. At ease, gentlemen.” When they didn’t lower their hands or sit down, he smiled. “Relax, guys. Hit up the bar in the back. You deserve it. You did good. We did good.”

“No, Sir,” Marcus said.

“Our mission isn’t over,” Ian said. “With your permission, we’d like to finish it.”

The warehouse, Gabe realized. After everything, they still wanted to get rid of that damn warehouse. Well, why the hell not?

“You up for it?”

“Yes, Sir,” they said in resounding unison.

He studied them. Bruised, battered, but not beaten. Never beaten. Pride swelled in his chest. All this time, he had wished for his former SEAL teammates when he had a group of men who were just as good, just as loyal, and just as honorable at his command. Maybe even more so.

“All right.” Grabbing his cane, he limped toward the plane’s door. “Then let’s give the EPC a giant FU and blow that building from the map, gentlemen.”