Chapter Five
Possessing patience and exercising patience were two incredibly different skills. One promised payoff, but the other frustrated the hell out of Brad. Rather than approach the subject opening their relationship further, Gabriel opted to discuss past missions, the ghost’s directives—not something Brad wanted to discuss with Gabriel specifically, but he was done lying to Sachi.
They drank. They talked. They shared anecdotes and the gulf between the three widened. Sachi withdrew from Brad’s touch the moment Gabriel re-entered the room, and the flash of guilt in her eyes pained him so, Brad kept his hands to himself. Whereas on the plane she’d been in Gabriel’s lap or holding his hand, she kept her distance from both of them.
He wasn’t the only one who noticed. By the time they’d killed the first bottle, they were farther apart than they’d been when they’d began the discussion. When Sachi fell asleep curled up in a chair, Gabriel draped a blanket over her then stroked her hair off her face. The sensation of witnessing an intensely intimate moment didn’t sit well with him.
Resentment found a foothold and flooded his bloodstream. Rather than ripping Gabriel away from her, Brad grabbed the second bottle of scotch and strode out of the room. Pausing long enough to dig out the tin of cigars and a lighter he’d stowed in his go bag, he headed outdoors. The house had warmed steadily through the evening, so at least he knew Sachi would be warm.
Outside, he welcomed the frigid chill. It had been a fucking pipe dream to think he could coax her into bed in one evening, much less talk Gabriel into participating. But, fuck it all, he’d been waiting forever for the right to simply touch her and he’d gotten to.
One all too brief touch when she’d let him comfort her after Gabriel walked out of the room. He lit the cigar and puffed on it then took a long pull of scotch. The door opened behind him, and Gabriel stepped out.
“Hard when things don’t go the way you planned them, isn’t it?” Quiet, unassuming and dead on target.
Brad glanced at the other man, eyes narrowed. “Nothing has gone according to plan in three years, why should tonight be any different?”
“Because you—like Sachi—play a part very well.” With slow, deliberate steps Gabriel crossed to the porch railing and leaned against it. “I did my homework on you, Peck. You skated through your childhood and teenage years on your father’s money and your charm. You went to college and pretty much fucked off for the first two years, barely scraping the GPA together to stay in the school, even with your father’s money. Something changed in your junior year. You got serious. Your grades came up and you even managed to graduate a full semester ahead of schedule before you became a Marine.”
Hearing his life distilled down to basic facts was never a pleasant experience. Saying nothing, Brad took another long drink.
“You did well. Surprisingly well for a boy with a silver spoon in his mouth. You qualified for Elite Recon by the time you were in your mid-twenties, then you fell off the map. Your career redacted down to a couple of lines here or there. But you know what’s fascinating about redacted mission files?”
“No, but I’m almost certain you’re about to tell me.” He had no idea what game the other man had in mind, but he paid attention.
“The psychological evaluations of the teams aren’t redacted. They are classified and you need to clearance to see them, but they’re still there in the right folders to be accessed by someone who knows what to look for.” Despite the bland expression, Gabriel stared at him steadily.
“Your point?”
“You are a man used to using your charms to disarm others and get what you want and you’re really good at it. Frighteningly good.”
“I’ll take compliments all day, Gabe.” The skill had saved his hide and his team on multiple occasions. Downing another mouthful of scotch, he controlled the need to lash out. He needed Gabriel as an ally, and if that meant enduring his analytical mind, so be it.
“You tried to play her, and you have been playing her since the day Titanium dropped the grenade in the hangar.” The accusation landed like a steel gauntlet on the ground between them. “You didn’t want your existence to be revealed to her—not that way. You wanted to control when she learned you’d survived. I believe that you wanted to tell her right away. I even believe you were prevented, but as time went on—it grew more difficult to pull back the veil on the deception. So, you let opportunity after opportunity slide until the decision was taken out of your hands.”
Again. The decision was taken away from me, again. Brad put the bottle down on the railing. He didn’t need the temptation to smash it for a weapon. Hell, he didn’t need the weapon. He took another long puff on the cigar.
“From the moment that happened, you’ve been trying to reassert control by pushing her buttons, by using what you know about her to get her to open up. Every little action, every word—it’s all geared towards getting her to respond and its working. Here’s where you and I have a problem. I don’t trust you. I don’t trust that what you’re doing is about her and not you. Sex is another manipulator. You’re aligning yourself with me, so she’s on the opposite side, and you’re planting the ideas, tossing them out there like the three of us could have—what? A night? An open relationship? Something longer term?”
Gabriel verged very close along the truth. “That’s why you changed the subject when you came back with the drinks.” It wasn’t a question.
“I changed the subject because she isn’t ready. She’s at war with herself—at war with her own feelings. All sex would have done is complicate an already complicated situation.”
“Says the man fucking her every night.” His anger slipped its leash.
“That burns you, doesn’t it?” It wasn’t a taunt. “It burns you that you are on the outside, and all you can think about is getting back inside where you can control everything.”
Fuck this. “I know what makes her happy.” He resisted the urge to chomp down on the cigar and focused on keeping his breathing easier. “I’ve known her for years. I know how she thinks. How she reacts. What she needs.”
“You did, I agree.” Gabriel folded his arms. “Before you died. She isn’t the same person anymore. You know, it took me a while to see it—to see what John always sees in her—but once I saw it, I couldn’t unsee it. John’s scars are on the outside, and he uses them as a barricade against the world. Sachi’s are on the inside, but they are every bit as deep and disfiguring. She uses her role-playing to keep the world from seeing how vulnerable she feels she is. So, no, what she needs is to heal. What she needs is for us to put her first, even when she doesn’t know or want us to do it. You aren’t doing that—”
“The fuck I’m not.” Fury ignited his adrenaline and sloughed off some of the alcohol. “Tell you what, Professor, you analyze whatever you want. I know my girl. I would take a bullet for her, no hesitation. Cut off an arm, if I needed to. You’re right, she is the walking wounded, yet a year with you hasn’t fixed it.”
“No, and your arrival only derailed what progress she’d made.” The hint of regret and disappointment in his tone stilled Brad’s ire. “Take a good long look at her, Brad. Ask yourself this question—if the best thing in the world for her was you staying dead, would you have ever let them tell her you were alive?”
Nothing he said would change the man’s mind. If Gabriel kept the door closed, Brad would only tear Sachi apart by forcing his way in.
“I can’t walk away again,” he said, embracing a reality he did not want to face. Fuck it, he wasn’t some pansy ass boy. If push came to shove, he’d fucking man up and deal with it. “If she wants me gone, all she has to do is say the words. I’ll go. Until the moment she does, I’m in this to stay. But you don’t trust me, so it doesn’t really matter what I say.”
“Actions,” Gabriel said quietly, “speak far louder than words. You want to take control so you can mitigate the damage, and I get it. You want it to be easier for you to take back your position, at least partially. Maybe even long enough to shove me out.” He shrugged. “Maybe you’re thinking sharing her long-term really will work. I don’t know.”
“Could you?” Brad turned the tables and gestured to Gabriel with his cigar. “Could you share her?”
“I already do.” The answer shocked the shit out of him. “I have from the moment I met her. There’s been a ghost in our bed every single night. The only difference now is the ghost has a form and a voice and can inflict even more harm if he isn’t careful.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only answer you’re getting, Peck.” Gabriel glanced at the house. “I’m going to turn in. She shouldn’t be alone.”
Brad waited until he was at the door to the house to turn away and face the dark night around them. “For what it’s worth, Danvers, I do trust you.” He hadn’t planned to admit it. “No game, no working the charm. You’ve done everything you said you would from the day you arrived. You’ve always put her first. While I may think you’re a fucking cockblocking bastard at the moment, I also get why.” Pride was important. Pride. Strength. Determination.
But all of it was fucking empty without her.
He kicked his pride to the curb. “So you can make me jump through whatever hoops you need. I can handle it.”
Silence, then the door handle turned and the hinges squeaked as it opened. “Duly noted.” The door closed, but maybe—just maybe—he’d found another route in. A longer, heavily land mined route, but a route nonetheless.
What the hell did he have to lose, anyway? Tipping the bottle up, he took a long pull of the scotch. Maybe with enough of it in him, he could sleep in the same room with the two of them and not ache to hold her.
Yeah, and maybe peacock-tailed monkeys will fly out of my ass. I’m in the same room with her, she sees me. It’s enough. For right now, it has to be enough.
He definitely needed more to drink.
The air was filled with dust, and it clogged her lungs. She tried to keep her breathing shallow, but the pressure on her chest—fuck, it hurt. A crossbeam touched her, an inch short of crushing her completely. Darkness filled with debris and the harsh sound of her breathing. The foundation beneath her held some heat. She fought the urge to twist to see what was there, because she knew. Still, she fought to twist and turn anyway. She had to know for certain. She’d heard the crunch of bone before hell swallowed them. She’d seen the blood…but if even a micro-chance existed, she had to know.
The concrete scraped her skin and the coppery scent of blood added to the stink of sweat, dirt and God knew what else. Agonizingly slow, she twisted. Though her eyes were open, nothing moved across her field of vision. The endless pitch of black held not even a trace of light.
Her leg screamed as pain raced like a river of fire along her nervous system, and she gasped in a mouthful of dust. Choking on it, she finally turned over and saw the deck of the ship below in the Russian harbor. From her vantage, she had both the loading dock and deck covered. The teams had moved—Titanium’s was on board. Tungsten was a flicker in her vision as he checked one of the containers.
“Look alive, folks.” Tungsten’s voice came across her earpiece. “Target spotted and rolling in.” The rumble of a diesel engine cut through the morning quiet. The moment elongated. Her finger trembled over the trigger, her heart slamming like a metal drum in her ears.
She’d been here. She knew what came next. A warning to get out, to extract and abort the mission died unspoken as her jaw refused to work. The scene played out—the SUVs, the tanker truck, the order to take out the escort but leave the asset alive.
“Copper,” Steele whispered in her earpiece.
“Sir.” Don’t do it! It’s a trap!
“Clear the field. Don’t hit the target.”
Fuck me! LISTEN! Don’t do it. It’s a trap! “Don’t hit the target, sir? Do not. Confirm?”
“Confirm.”
Don’t fire. Don’t start.
Her finger slid over the trigger. Don’t clear the field, don’t let them know the trap worked…
She fired. One. Uranium. No! Two. Zinc. Dammit! Three. Tungsten. No! Four. Gabriel turned…no.
He wasn’t there.
He wasn’t there.
The mantra repeating in her brain cut off when the world exploded. Heat ballooned out and crashed over her. She flew backwards and slammed into the man behind her. He hit the wall—bone crunched and blood soaked her. So much blood.
Twisting, she stared through the haze of red, muddy light into Gabriel’s lifeless eyes. Then the ground swallowed her, rocks falling and slamming into each other. She couldn’t breathe. Flesh beneath her fingers remained chilled, but she found his jawline, then the column of his throat and pressed her fingers to where the pulse should be. Hellish red filled her vision and Brad stared up at her. “You pulled the trigger…” His face morphed and Gabriel’s lifeless eyes robbed her of speech. “You pulled the trigger.”
Merc ripped away one of the rocks, his ruined face right in front of her. “You don’t get to die, Sachi,” he ordered. “You hear me? You pulled the fucking trigger. You killed them all. You don’t get to die.” He hauled her up by her arm, until they were face-to-face. “You get to rot in hell, but you don’t get to die.” Then she fell and the building collapsed and she was pinned.
Nothing remained but dust and blood and the sound of her own breathing…
Hands shackled her wrists and weight pinned her down. She fought her way through the murk, struggling to be free. Twisting, she slammed her head forward. Fresh pain stabbed through her skull, and the figure pinning her grunted. “Sachi!”
No, don’t make a sound. Don’t let them know they got to her. If they wanted to torture her… The weight on her chest shifted, and her struggle renewed. The binding on her wrists relaxed, and she struck with fists against shoulders—no, a back. Arms tightened around her.
“Sachi, it’s okay. Wake up.” The coaxing softness in the black arrested her. Blinking—she fought to wake, but a hazy orange-red light filled the room. Flickering flames, log walls, wooden floor—Gabriel. She shuddered and stopped hitting him, locking her arms around him and holding on tight. Across the room, sitting up from his bedroll, was Brad and his expression was pained and worried.
Brad is alive.
Memory and reality slammed together. Pulling her gaze from him, she slid her palms against Gabriel’s chest. The man holding her eased back a little to meet her gaze.
“I dreamed again,” she whispered. Even the vapors of her earlier drunk were utterly gone. The numbed feeling she’d achieved had let her find oblivion, then plummeted her into madness. Sweat slicked her arms and soaked her hair. Despite the fire and the layers of clothing, dampness soaked her skin.
“I know. You’re safe.” Steady. Gabriel was always so steady. Even when faced with the reality she might have to kill him, nothing rocked him. The only time she’d glimpsed real fear had been a half-elusive tangential memory when the team pulled her out of the building. The haunted look in his eyes when he’d met her gaze. They never discussed the moment, or how he was gone moments later. She understood the why, he’d gone to cover their exit and to make sure no one remembered the team had been there.
He’d done it without hesitation, even knowing they were taking her and he might never see her again. Would you have gone back for him? Brad’s question shimmied loose from the cloud buzzing in her mind. She’d refused to answer him earlier—not because she hadn’t wanted to answer, but because she hadn’t known. The nightmare jarred her and she trembled.
Fisting Gabriel’s shirt, she stared at the bruise on his face and said, “I’m sorry.”
“Shh, nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart. It’s not our first rodeo.” The reminder of the few times she’d woken with a silent scream and how he’d been there, shaking her out of the nightmare, dragging her back into hell, grounded her. Except, it was the first time it had happened since Brad was alive, and…she never told Gabriel the content of her dreams.
“Yes, there is.” She grabbed her courage and her balls and stopped running from the fear clawing her alive. “Brad asked if I would have gotten you after the hotel blew up—if I’d have contacted you and brought you into this life.” This close she couldn’t miss the minute change in Gabriel’s expression. His eyes tightened and his mouth compressed. Brad aggravated him, and he had every right to the aggravation. “And I didn’t know then if I would have, but I don’t think I would have gone back for you. I would have wanted to—I would have wanted you, to see you, to hold you, to be with you—but I wouldn’t have done it.”
She did not turn her head. She didn’t want to know what Brad’s thoughts on the subject were because, fuck him, as much as she still loved him, she did love Gabriel, too.
“I wouldn’t have done it. Not because I didn’t care, but because I love you and I can’t be responsible for your death, too.”
Rather than pull away, Gabriel’s arms squeezed her tighter. His narrowed eyes softened, and he leaned in to brush a kiss to her forehead. “Sweetheart, you aren’t responsible for anyone’s death.”
“I fired the shot.” Dammit, he didn’t understand. Digging her fingers into his shirt, she tugged on the fabric. “Don’t you see? I was the reason Cobalt was in that damn room. I fired the shot. The one that got them all killed.”
Gabriel pressed a finger to her lips and his expression grew grave. “Stop. Brad—come here.”
Suddenly Brad was there on the floor at their side.
“Look at him,” Gabriel continued. “He’s right here, he didn’t die. You didn’t fire a shot that killed him.”
For three years, they’d “played” dead and hunted for what cost them. She was that reason, and she didn’t look at him. Having him back…it was Pandora’s box. “I fired the shot…”
“You followed orders.” Brad’s voice cut through the tension. “Sachi, I was there. I heard Steele’s orders. He told you to take out the escorts and to leave the asset. You didn’t detonate those bombs. You didn’t fire the missile.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting to get her wild heart under control and her breathing steadier. A hand slid along her nape then closed over her neck. Gabriel’s arms were still around her.
“You didn’t kill me, babe.” Brad’s voice went hoarse. “I did that when I let them keep me in play-dead mode. I swear to you, you didn’t kill me. If anyone’s guilty of that, it’s me.”
A tear pressed past her squeezed shut eyelids.
“Keep talking to her.” Gabriel’s quiet confidence beckoned to her.
“Is she even fucking hearing us?” Brad’s question held raw anger and a hint of desperation.
“Yes.” Calmer, Gabriel stabilized the rockiness in her soul. “She just needs to know we’re here—and in this case that means you.”
“How often does this happen to her?” The fingers on her nape began to massage, the pressure testing the locked muscles. Darkness held death. The weight of the building. The rapidly cooling body…
“You watched her all the time, and you don’t know?” Surprise, not judgment. So weird to hear them talking about her, while she was so distant. Like sitting behind a sniper’s scope and staring down at the empty deck and loading dock below. Away from the action, away from the detonation…her finger on the trigger.
A long silence, then Gabriel sighed. “More often than I think she realizes. Some nights, I can get her back to sleep before it all registers. Other nights…she’s silent, Brad. She doesn’t scream, she doesn’t wail, she just makes this low sound and then goes blank. I keep waiting for her to discuss it the next day, but she doesn’t. So fucking talk to her. She needs you.” The last words gave her heart a vicious twist.
“I don’t know about that.” Brad’s lips were near her ear. “You hear him, Sach? He doesn’t think you need him.” Something dark, lonely, and a little bit sad inhabited his tone. “But do you know what I see? You’ve got a death grip on him, and there’s terror in your voice when you talk about losing him. I also heard you say you love him…and you know what, babe? I heard the truth in those words, the raw, naked truth.”
“Loving someone isn’t enough.” Blowing out a breath, she opened her eyes. Running away didn’t help anyone. Brad slid behind her and Gabriel stayed right where he was. “Not when you tear them apart.”
“I don’t know.” Gabriel’s thumbs worked the base of her spine, the sensations warring with Brad’s fingers on the back of her neck. “The only one getting torn apart here, is you. I’m fine. Brad’s fine.”
“Brad’s more than fine.” Laughter eased the sadness in his voice. “I’m here with my best girl and her guy. I get to be a part of the equation.”
Yes, he was a part of the equation. “You died.” Equal parts accusation and cry for help.
“I did.” No games. No laughter. “If I could change nothing about the last few years save one thing—letting you believe I was dead would be it. You should never have felt that way. You shouldn’t feel that way now. Fuck it all, Sachi. Fuck Steele. Fuck Titanium. Fuck the fucking U.S. of A. This is me. I’m here, I’m alive, and I will do any goddamn thing necessary to make this right for you.”
The words penetrated the shell around her, and she met Gabriel’s gaze. “He didn’t fuck Chrome.”
“No,” Gabriel agreed with her. “He didn’t, but Chrome really isn’t his type.”
“Mine either. He threatened to tie me up and toss me in a cell if I did anything stupid. He’s kinky like that.”
A rumble at her back sounded suspiciously like Brad laughing. The corner of Gabriel’s mouth kicked up. “Do you like to be tied up?”
“Like it?” She considered the question. “Not really. People tie you up to interrogate you or force you to do something.” Logic and reason told her that. Sandwiched between the two men, they had her completely surrounded and caged. “Having you guys cage me isn’t so bad. Not really my kink, though.”
One by one the muscles in her neck seemed to unlock. Gabriel canted his head to the side. “You’re coming back to us now, aren’t you?”
The shock of waking, like being plunged into icy water, began to pass as she soaked in their heat. “I freaked out.”
“Not so bad as that.” Gabriel loosened his hold a fraction, and Brad pressed in against her back. With a finger, Gabriel traced her cheek and brushed away the evidence of tears. “Copper doesn’t cry.”
“No,” Brad agreed, his lips teasingly close to her ear. “She doesn’t.”
“Sachi does.” Saying the words lifted some of the dead weight off her chest, allowing the claustrophobic pressure smothering her to lighten. “She doesn’t like to admit it, but she does. Cold showers help. Drinking helps more. Copper can’t feel that way. Copper has to do the job.”
“Copper’s good for work,” Brad said quietly. “Do you remember what I told you about doing the job? How you can come close to the edge, but you didn’t have to go through with it?”
Yes. She remembered. “You said I was always your girl.”
“I did.” He nipped her earlobe, then tickled the soft skin with his tongue. “You’re not just my girl.”
Surprise eddied over the ebbing shock. “What?”
Switching to her free ear, Brad nibbled a second kiss. “Are you paying attention?” The tickling sensation pricked to a single point of pain when he bit her earlobe gently. Then he laved the spot he’d hurt. “Yes.” A shiver worked along her spine that had nothing to do with the cold.
“You’re Gabriel’s girl, too.” The nuzzling sensation slid through her. Gabriel’s fingers on her cheek kept her gaze fixed on him. She didn’t miss the way the firelight flared in his eyes. His attention shifted from her to Brad. “Yeah, he has a real hard time trusting me right now. I don’t blame him. You’re having a hard time with it, too.”
Yes, she was.
“Our girl?” Question, not statement. Gabriel raised his eyebrows at Brad.
“Ours.” Brad agreed.
“Duly noted.” Something passed between the two, she couldn’t decipher and she stole a look at Brad, but his expression was enigmatic.
“Sachi.” Gabriel pulled her attention to him. “Lean back against Brad, then stay very still.”
Surprise kindled in her belly and ignited a fierce wave of desire. She loved it when Gabriel got bossy. Brad helped her shift more securely into his lap, then Gabriel caught her face in his hands and kissed her. Nothing tentative lived in the way his mouth closed on hers or how his tongue traced the seam of her lips until she parted them to welcome his sensual invasion.
Her breathing shallowed as he tasted her, slowly. The devastating combination of Brad holding her while Gabriel kissed her swamped the unease and terror, drowning them in a comforting pleasure. The tingling in her middle spread, and her nipples tightened. Gabriel drew out her lower lip, scraping his teeth over it lightly when he broke the kiss.
Tipsy on the promised hedonism in the contact, she gazed at his retreating face longingly. Sex was a tool and a power play, but not the way Gabriel touched her or kissed her. He always made her feel treasured and safe, gave so much more than he took. “Come here.” He beckoned with a curl of his finger, and she scooted from Brad’s lap to his. Instead of straddling his lap, Gabriel turned her and settled her bottom snugly against the strain of his erection. The fabric between them kept it a tease. Wrapping his arms around her, Gabriel cradled her against his chest and she found Brad watching them with an unreadable expression. Cupping her breast, Gabriel massaged her slowly, never quite touching the tautened nipple. Exquisite torture, and she rode the rising wave. Brad settled his hands on his thighs, watching both of them without moving or saying a word.
“Tell me something?” Gabriel’s whisper teased her ear and, like Brad before him, he traced the whorls with his tongue, eliciting another shudder from her. The sensations were piling one atop the other, washing away the ragged tension from the half-remembered dream.
An image of Gabriel’s empty eyes staring up at her flashed across her mind and she tensed. With a stroke of his thumb, Gabriel traced her nipple through the shirt. Electricity sizzled through her system, and the image vanished.
“Are you with us right now, sweetheart?” The question accompanied a pinch as he teased the nipple, cutting off the blood supply, then releasing it to allow pleasure to join with the sharpness of the pain.
“If you’re trying to seduce me,” she whispered, fighting the ragged nature of her breathing to get the words out. “I’m pretty much a sure thing.”
Brad’s lips quirked into a small grin, affection gentled his expression. Still, he stayed where he was as Gabriel covered both of her breasts with his hands and continued to torment her through the fabric. Every touch grounded her more in reality. Reality where they were both alive, they were safe—and with her. Hunger and the need to feel his skin under her hands stormed through her. She wanted to touch and torment and tease, too, dammit.
Putting thought to action, she ran her hands over his thighs, but Gabriel bit down on the side of her neck, a hint of pain. Then he said, “No. Brad take her hands.”
Surprise filtered through Brad’s eyes, yet he didn’t hesitate to take her hands in his. Calloused, firm and strong, they were easily a third again and then some larger than hers.
“No touching for you,” Gabriel said and something erotic unlocked in her. He was definitely feeling bossy. “Tonight, you let us do the touching.”
She zeroed in on the word us and Brad’s chin came up, his gaze sharpening.
“Yes,” Gabriel told him. “Kiss her, let her feel how alive you are.”
Instead of leaping to action, Brad frowned. Trapped in Gabriel’s arms while his hands continued their teasing, she couldn’t move.
“You sure?” The hoarse question threatened to undo her. It held everything inside it she felt—need, disbelief, and the all too-rare hope.
“I am now,” Gabriel said slowly. “Kiss her, man. She wants you, and she needs you.”
“Us,” Brad corrected and Sachi groaned. The connection between the two men seemed to be deepening right before her eyes. She didn’t understand what shifted or changed, but her thighs clamped together. Her pussy ached, clenching around emptiness and her breasts seemed to hold all the pleasure. Every time she got a fix on Gabriel’s caresses, he pinched or adjusted the force he used and it sent another shock through her. Her clit throbbed at the idea of Brad kissing her while Gabriel touched her, but Gabriel kept her still, and Brad’s hands tightened on hers.
For the barest moment, she felt the slickness of moisture where his palms glided over hers. Understanding fisted her heart. Brad was afraid. Her big, badass Marine was afraid to touch her. Even after everything that happened on the side of the road and how his mouth had devastated hers with a wild kiss—he was afraid.
His dark eyes held hell in them, and she licked her lips. “It’s okay,” she told him. “We’re in this together.” The last remnants of terror slipped away. Brad was alive and he was with them. They were in this together—the three of them. When he closed the distance between them, Sachi dug her nails into Brad’s hands, and he took the pain without comment. His mouth hovered devastating close to hers and when his lips brushed across her open mouth, Gabriel sucked her earlobe between his teeth and desire roared through her.
Together…