I couldn’t deny Sloane had changed after the other night. I still didn’t know if it was for better or worse, but something had shifted.

That night, I drifted off to sleep beside her, pulsing from another release inside her body. Sometimes, the tension was palpable between us. We argued, we called each other names, but it always circled back to this. Always. Three months wasn’t a long time to be with someone and know who they were, but with Sloane and me… Sometimes people just fell, I guessed.

The Halcyon was a gross example of wealth that always made me want to choke. A doorknob in this hellhole was worth more than I made in an entire year.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist playing the hero,” a voice boomed, echoing through the empty theatre.

A spotlight switched on with a heavy click, illuminating the stage. The glittery backdrop sparkled in the sudden shower of light where, not an hour ago, scantily clad women had waved their pussy’s around, titillating the cocks of their audience for the evening.

Now, it was empty, save for me, King, the unknown number of snipers in the shadows, and my wife. Madison.

King thrust his hand into her chestnut locks and forced her head up. She swallowed a sob…until her gaze met mine. A cry of terror tore from her throat, piercing my heart. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her mascara smeared across her skin. She was terrified…and it was all my fault.

My grip tightened around the gun in my hand, and I stepped forward, murder on my mind. Something metallic pressed into the base of my skull, and I tensed, stopping in my tracks.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” a voice said behind me.

“Let this be a lesson to you, Gunnar Mason,” King drawled, pulling a gun from behind his back. “No one crosses me and gets away with it. No one.”

He aimed, then fired, the boom tearing through the theatre, and Madison fell.

“No!” I roared, twisting to the side. I knocked the gun away from me, the man startled by my sudden outburst. I fired, the shot hitting him in the stomach, and sprinted toward the light, but King was already gone.

Vaulting onto the stage, I skidded on my knees and grasped Madison’s shoulders. The bullet had torn through her neck, and blood poured from the wound. She gasped for breath, but she was only inhaling blood, the wet, sucking sound choking her to death.

“No, no, no, no…” I pressed my palms against the wound, but I knew it was useless. I couldn’t stop this.

Her sightless eyes shone with unshed tears that were trapped in the moment death.

“Chaser, we’ve got to go.”

I woke with a start, my chest heaving.

Kicking my feet out of bed, I leaned forward, my elbows digging into my legs. A sob burst unbidden from my throat, the dream clinging to my mind like a parasite. It had felt so real.

“Chaser?” Sloane’s voice was a whisper in the darkness.

Glancing over my shoulder, I saw she was lying among the blankets, her hair splayed across the pillow.

Climbing back into bed, I draped myself over her, pushing my thigh between her legs.

“Chaser…” Her eyes were full of questions I didn’t want to answer. “Have you been… Have you—”

I cut off her question with a kiss, forcing my tongue between her lips. She opened to me with a sigh, unable to resist my touch. Madison was gone, and Sloane was here.

My fingers probed her neck, tracing the lines of an old bruise. The one she’d gotten from Harley that night on the roof of the Fortitude compound. He’d tried to choke her.

“Chaser?” she whispered. “What’s going on?”

“Shh,” I murmured, moving over her so I was between her legs.

She spread without complaint, allowing me to enter her. My cock stroked through her wetness, coaxing life into my psyche. Sloane was here. Sloane was real. She was real.

She moaned as I slapped against her clit, my muscles tensing as I lost myself in the moment. I fucked away the memory of my dream, chasing the demons and locking them back in their box. It wasn’t fair on Sloane, but I couldn’t bear it.

“Chaser…” she whispered, clamping her hands on my ass.

Placing my forearms on either side of her head, I twisted my fingers in her hair and held her in place. She lifted her ass off the mattress and hooked her legs around my waist, her pussy wide open. I thrust, increasing my speed as my balls flared.

“Give it to me,” she said with a moan. “I can take it…”

I came, my orgasm exploding deep inside her. I cried out, my fingers tightening in her hair as she followed, her pussy milking every last drop out of my throbbing cock. She was real.

I collapsed, burying my face against the curve of her neck. My breaths came short and fast, sweat beading on my forehead.

Her eyes were full of questions. She knew something was different, but like the asshole I was, I pulled my cock out and rolled over.

This time, when I fell asleep, it was dreamless.

* * *

It was my turn to sit on a rooftop and pout. Sloane and I had that in common. The sky, the solitary introspective bullshit. Since Madison was murdered, I’d become an expert at shutting off anything that might break me. That was why it was a miracle I felt anything at all for Sloane.

I leaned back in the lawn chair and kicked my feet up onto the railing. The horizon was still filled with brownish smoke from the wildfires burning out of control.

Behind me, I heard footsteps clanging up the metal staircase. I shot a look over my shoulder and sighed as Sloane’s head appeared, her blue aviator sunglasses on her face. Turning back to the view, I said nothing as she approached.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice echoing.

“I’m watching the road.”

She stepped closer, her boots scuffing on the roof, and I knew another deep and meaningful bullshit conversation was incoming. If I wanted to get over all my hang-ups and have a future at all, I knew I had to face a lot of screwed-up shit, but avoidance was more attractive right now. I had to be strong until this was all over.

“What happened last night?” Sloane asked, sitting beside me.

“I need to explain the mechanics of sex to you now?” I drawled, being a prick on purpose. “It’s when a man puts his erect cock into the slick pussy of a woman he’s hot for. Then—”

“Chaser.”

I shrugged.

“You’re a hypocrite, you know that?” She was pissed at me.

I nodded, doing my best to shut my feelings off. “Of course, I am.”

“Maybe I’m indifferent to the things I’ve done, but you’re not.”

“If you’re trying to push all my buttons at once, keep going,” I said, narrowing my eyes in warning.

She moved closer, her body blocking out the sun, the light haloing around her curves.

“Chaser…you were crying.”

“Shit. Do you want me to hand you the knife so you can cut off my balls?” I exclaimed. “Fucking hell.”

“If you can’t talk to me about these things, then what the hell are we doing?” she retorted. “You fucked away something, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I’m a right cu—”

“Don’t say that word,” she shot at me. “You know I hate it.”

“You swear like a dirty sailor, and you’re forbidding me from saying cu—”

“Chaser.”

I rolled my eyes and returned to staring at the comings and goings of the motel below.

“You had a dream about her, didn’t you?”

I flinched as Sloane’s words hit home.

“You can talk to me about it, you know. I’m not insecure about it anymore.” She dragged a lawn chair across the roof and set it beside mine, then flopped down onto the green and white plastic.

“You really want to hear about how I got my wife murdered?” I drawled. “What did I do to deserve you? Are you sure you’re not using me for my perfect cock?”

“Don’t,” she murmured, staring at me over the top of her sunglasses. “Don’t do that with me.”

I sighed heavily, my eyes still burning with the afterimage of my dream. I wondered what had triggered it. Stress? Maybe.

“I was the same age as you are now,” I said, staring across the desert. “Deep cover, away from Madison. I thought I was invincible. Why wouldn’t I be? I had the FBI at my back, ready to extract me if things got too hot.” I didn’t have to explain the rest to her. She knew how the ‘good guys’ had betrayed me. I’d lost everything in a matter of days. My entire life had turned into one giant mess.

“I was too late to save her, you know that,” I went on. “I didn’t just hear about her murder. I saw it. I saw the moment the life left her eyes. I saw the moment…” I trailed off, shoving away the image that had stirred me from sleep. “At first, working for Fortitude was the only thing stopping me from…” I shook my head. “I did messed-up things to forget. Every person I killed had his face. I liked it, Sloane.” I glanced at her and was surprised to see tears in her eyes.

“That was before,” she murmured. “That’s not now.”

“King shot her in the neck,” I admitted. “The bullet went through and through. She choked on her own blood while I stood in front of her unable to stop it… I pressed my hands against her neck, but…”

“Chaser…”

“Chaser is a murderer,” I snapped. “Gunnar was a stupid fucking boy who got his wife killed. What the hell have I done to fix shit? Who am I now?”

“We’re doing something now,” she said firmly. “It’s better than nothing at all. I made you a promise. The rest we’ll figure out as we go.”

“You made Chaser a promise,” I scoffed. Who was I supposed to be? Gunnar, Chaser, or something else? Man, husband, good guy, murderer, crook, hostile, evil incarnate.

Sloane angled herself toward me, the plastic lawn chair creaking with the movement. “You’ll always be Chaser to me. Not because of where you ended up but because it was the name you first gave me. If you want me to call you Gunnar… I can do that.”

“Gunnar’s gone,” I whispered.

“I can call you fuck face, how about that?”

My lips quirked.

“See? There is something in there after all.” She slapped me on the arm and leaned back in her chair. “What a pair we are.”

She was uncanny the way she turned shit around. I studied the curve of her breasts and the way her shorts rode up when she sat.

“The Hollow Men have a casino, you say?” she mused.

“The Halcyon.”

“You worked undercover with them,” she went on. “That’s valuable. The pain will last a little while longer, but instead of using it to forget, use it to remember.”

“I know,” I said. “I’ve shut it out for so long… The first rush is a bitch, you know.”

Sloane shuffled next to me and kicked her feet up onto the railing next to mine. I studied our boots and relaxed slightly when she let her knees fall to the side and press against my legs.

“Have you…” I began, my uncertainty throwing my resolve sideways.

“I never shut any of it out,” she murmured, staring out over the desert. “I percolate in misery and pain like a Sylvia Plath novel. Maybe that’s why I’m so whatever about the last few months. It hurts, but I can take it.”

I snorted and couldn’t imagine her reading a book of miserable poetry. She did have that huge-ass textbook, so maybe it wasn’t so farfetched.

“We’ll be all right, Chaser,” she said. “You’ll be all right. One last job. Remember that.”

I grunted and leaned my arm on the side of her chair, facing my palm toward the sky. She slipped her hand into mine, and I caressed the tattoo on her thumb. The crossed swords meant something else now even though the motto was the same.

Courage in adversity.