Chapter 4
“I ain’t takin’ a civilian with me.”
Nox thrust his chest out, as though daring anyone to contradict him.
Zane heaved a sigh.
That evening, they were all seated around the kitchen table, wearing black fatigues, preparing for the raid.
Breaking into places was easier at night. No one would notice their movements. Whenever they’d conducted missions overseas, they’d always headed into enemy territory during the night. It was much safer that way.
These pricks were on the run, so they shouldn’t be dealing with combatants. Most likely the FBI had swept the places looking for evidence, but they might’ve missed something.
Zane had consulted with West, and he’d agreed to let Ellie go with them since she had a personal stake in this case and she had knowledge of the gas. King had protested but eventually gave in. Besides, they had four places to search. If Ellie didn’t tag along, some of them would have to go by themselves.
The only holdout was Nox. For some reason, the bastard just loved being ornery.
West shut his eyes, as though gathering every ounce of his patience. “Nox, do what you’re told for once.”
“Fuck no. Not when it’s my ass on the line. Have you ever been in a firefight?” Nox asked Ellie.
Most likely these bastards were in the wind, but nobody knew for sure what they were walking into. And Navy SEALs planned for every eventuality.
“That depends.” She frowned. “What’s a firefight?”
Zane sighed.
“I rest my case. Ellie’s stayin’ home with Storm.” Nox glowered at her.
Storm perked up. “Excellent plan. I didn’t wanna go to a mad bomber’s place anyway.” He smiled at Ellie. “Don’t worry, we’ll hang out, and I’ll make us buddha bowls with sweet potatoes and beets.”
Zane had no idea what a buddha bowl was and didn’t want to know. Since he’d grown up in Venice Beach, he had this whole surfer guy/health nut thing going on. Storm believed in working out, juicing every fruit he could get his hands on, and he hated sugar with a passion. As far as he was concerned, it was right up there with ISIS and Al-Qaeda.
“Then it’s settled.” Nox headed for the door. “They can braid each other’s hair, and we’ll get down to business.”
“Hey!” Both Storm and Ellie shouted.
“For the record, I can kick ass if necessary. Unlike you, I use violence as a last resort.”
Storm crossed his arms over his chest. He hadn’t gone through military training, so he didn’t have the macho street cred, but Storm was dangerous in his own right. Zane thought anyone who didn’t see it was a fool.
And he doubted Nox was going to budge. So, Zane would have to take Ellie with him. It didn’t bother him nearly as much as it should. He hadn’t allowed himself to contemplate their kiss earlier, or what it meant.
“Fine,” Zane snapped. “She can come with me. Stop your belly-achin'.”
Her gaze dipped to the floor, and Zane felt like an asshole. He’d said it, as though being around her was a chore. And it wasn’t. Far from it.
He’d blown it tonight in a major way. First, he’d held her. And then he freaked out. It’s just that her touch had an effect on him, and he hadn’t been able to control his reaction to her. He never could.
King scowled at him, one of his big, meaty hands curling into a fist.
“Why doesn’t she come with me instead?” King offered. “We should’ve done that in the first place. I can protect you, Ellie, and I don’t mind you comin’ along.”
West shook his head. “You’re injured, and she’s a civilian. Ellie needs to go with someone who’s at full strength, in case things go south.”
“Aren’t the tangos in the wind?” King asked.
“Yeah, but have we forgotten about the tripwire surprise? There could be more bombs. And reaction time is an issue.” Storm squinted at King doubtfully.
“Like I said, she can come with me.” Zane glanced at West, who nodded in agreement.
West cleared his throat. “Okay then. We’ll split up into four teams: Zane and Ellie, Nox and King, Mack and Storm, and Annie’s with me. Got it? Let’s go.”
Marching orders in hand, they headed for the front door.
King grabbed Zane by the shoulder. “Ellie’s a civilian. At the first sign of trouble, you pull her out. Understood?”
“Got it.” As if he’d let anything else happen to her.
“And if she gets hurt…?” King asked.
“You’re gonna beat the shit out of me?”
He chuckled. “What do ya know? You’re not as stupid as you look.”
Zane flipped him off, and King laughed harder.
As everyone took off, Ellie stepped closer to him. “I guess you’re stuck with me.”
He laid a hand on the back of his neck. “Naw, I’m pleased as punch to have you along.”
She snorted. “Yeah, tell me another one.”
For the most part, it was true. Zane was starved for her company, but he couldn’t give himself away. He didn’t want Ellie to know how he felt about her. The more time he spent with her, the more likely Zane was to fuck up and let it slip.
Time for a topic change.
“Come with me, Ellie. We’ve gotta get you some gear.” Zane led her down the hall until they stopped at the armory. Across from it, was a small cell, in case they ran into someone they needed to detain. Was it legal? Nope, but it might be necessary.
He punched in the code and the door swung open, revealing a wonderland.
Her eyes rounded.
“I know, right?”
West had assembled an impressive collection of weaponry on a budget. Some of them he’d gotten at gun shows. Others he’d bought on credit. Along with the guns, there were stacks of ammunition, grenades of all kinds, and most importantly, bulletproof vests.
“Here, put this on.” Zane pulled a small one from the closet and handed it to Ellie. She already wore a pair of black fatigues, which she had borrowed from Annie.
“Damn its heavy.” Her hand sagged under the weight, and the edge of the vest dipped to the floor.
“Yeah, those things are no joke, but they get the job done.” The vest was lined with several layers of Kevlar.
While she put hers on, he selected one from the closet and fastened it around his chest. The rest of the team were going to targets further away from HQ, so they had some time to kill before they had to leave.
They would hit all the apartments and houses at the same exact moment. A coordinated attack was best, in case they had some sort of warning system in place. They might set off another bomb.
“What if we can’t find them?”
“We’re gonna stop them.”
Ellie shook her head. “You don’t know that for sure.”
She was right, he’d said it to be comforting, but Zane couldn’t stand to see her so upset.
“If anybody gets hurt, I won’t be able to live with myself.”
“The bottom line is, it ain’t your fault. You didn’t hatch a plot to hurt people, they did. You can’t keep blamin’ yourself.”
“Yeah, but they wouldn’t have been able to do it, without me.” She paced back and forth, working herself into a frenzy.
Zane was at a loss, struggling to find the right words. He was more action-oriented, preferring to share his feelings through what he did, rather than what he said.
“Regardless, I bear some of the responsibility.” She pushed a hand through her hair. “As soon as I found out the key was missin’, I should’ve gone to my supervisor.”
Hindsight had an annoying way of being 20/20.
He decided to walk her through it. In SEAL training, they’d practiced different scenarios, determining what would be the most likely outcome for any given situation. It helped to break an issue down and focus on the details.
“And what would’ve happened then?”
“I would’ve been fired.”
“And do you think this Marshall guy would’ve stopped? Or would he have looked for another way to hurt people?”
Zane had spent a lot of time up close and personal with terrorists. One way or another, they always found a way to accomplish their plans.
She stopped walking and stared at him. “Marshall would’ve moved on to the next idea and the next, until he found one that worked.”
“Then you did the right thing. This way, you haven’t been fired, and we know what to look for so we can stop them from killin’ anyone.”
Ellie sighed. “Yeah, I think they sacked me. The FBI was stakin’ out my place, Zane. This goes way beyond me turnin’ in my key card and explaining what happened.”
“Maybe.”
“Definitely.”
Most likely, she was right.
Ellie looked guilty as sin and they’d probably already taken countermeasures against her. They could remotely shut down her card access and they definitely would have moved the chemical in question from the facility. Although, it was already too late to put the genie back in the bottle.
Even if she tried to explain it, the feds would railroad her into a conviction.
But Zane didn’t want her to worry about the future. “You can think about it later. The only thing you have to do is concentrate on breaking into Marshall’s house.”
Zane had asked West if he could go to the ringleader’s place. He wanted to make this guy pay for hurting Ellie. The only person Zane needed to punish more, was Dave. The bastard didn’t know it yet, but his day of reckoning was coming soon enough.
Zane would see to it personally.
“But what if—”
“Nope, put everythin’ else out of your mind.”
Whenever soldiers dwelled on the big picture, they got overwhelmed in the field. The enormity of their missions, combined with the threat level involved had a paralyzing effect on some people. They’d learned to “gamify” their tasks, breaking them down into small, achievable pieces.
Instead of concentrating on freeing hostages, Zane would think about getting into position, and then lining up his target in the crosshairs. Fixating on the particulars had gotten him through some hairy situations.
“Yeah, lettin’ go is not really my style. I tend to worry about things now.”
“I get it, but we gotta stay sharp.”
She frowned. “I’m tryin’, but everythin’ feels like it’s fallin’ apart.”
“Hey, come here.” And then like an idiot, he held out his arms to her. It’s almost like he had no will of his own when it came to her.
She slid into his embrace, but when he held her, Zane could feel Ellie trembling. Her spine was ramrod straight at first, and then she melted into him, plastering herself against his chest, burrowing her head between his shoulder and neck.
Zane bit back a moan.
Like on the porch swing, Zane lost himself in Ellie.
This was supposed to be about comfort, not desire.
He couldn’t go there, even if he wanted to. Zane had fun with women, teasing them, keeping it light. Letting her in wasn’t an option. This thing between them, whatever it was, wasn’t casual, at least not on his end. He’d been watching her from the sidelines for years, falling in love from afar.
But Zane knew he wasn’t the one for her. Ellie deserved better.
Even if he wasn’t so fucked up, she was King’s sister, for Christ’s sake. His little sister. If King found out Zane had been putting the moves on Ellie, he’d be in for a world of hurt.
“Feelin’ any better?”
He wanted her to trust him, rely on him, even though his brain told him to keep her at arm’s length. Zane worried about letting her down or hurting her unintentionally. She didn’t need any more assholes in her life.
Ellie was special, even if she didn’t realize it.
“Yeah.” She nodded.
“Tonight, we’ll find a clue, and it’ll lead us to the next one. Before you know it, we’ll have this thing solved.”
“You really think so?” She looked up at him with those big watery eyes, and his heart lurched in response.
“I know so,” Zane said, hoarsely. Zane wanted to be her hero, the man who protected her. But he’d have to settle for being the one who got revenge for her.
He cleared his throat. “Come on, we’d better get a move on.”
***
Ellie felt like she was guest-starring on a cop show.
Yeah, NYPD Blow Something Up.
They were parked down the street from Marshall’s house, waiting for West’s signal. It was nearly 2:00 AM and the FBI had definitely searched the Marshall’s place, judging by the police tape over the front door. Zane had scouted the area, to see if the FBI had an agent watching the place, but the coast was clear.
It was a ramshackle mobile home, on the outskirts of town, on a vacant lot. Dave had told her some of Marshall’s story. When he’d broken up with his wife, she’d kept their house, and he’d moved out. The lackluster accommodations had probably contributed to his anger issues. If she had to call this nasty place home, Ellie would be pissed, too. And to think she’d been demoralized about their crappy little apartment. But the double-wide looked like a stiff wind would knock it down. It had to be 40 or 50 years old, and kind of rusty.
Zane had brought along a thermos full of coffee, laced with half and half. They both took their morning cup of Joe the same way. They were just waiting for the signal to go in and look around.
Zane had borrowed Storm’s Jeep Wrangler with the soft top since his was out of commission for the time being. The Black Star guys had a thing for Jeeps. She’d seen more than one parked in the driveway. Although, Ellie liked Zane’s best. She wondered what it would be like to take the top off and go for a summer drive, with the wind rippling through her hair.
People in jail, don’t go on joyrides. Don’t get your hopes up.
And now she had a case of the jitters, but it wasn’t only from the coffee.
I stuck at playin’ cop.
“I wonder if we’ll find anythin’ helpful inside.”
“Most likely.” Zane grinned. “I know where to look for things people don’t want me to find.”
“I suppose it’s too much to ask for a detailed map of their evil plans, pinned to the wall like in the movies?” She’d been praying for an easy solution, a quick fix.
He chuckled. “Yeah, that’s not how it goes down. In real life, the bad guys keep their secrets buried deep.”
“Well, that sucks.”
Zane chuckled. “Yeah, it does.”
“Before you go in, I’m gonna scope it out and make sure the place is safe.” He held up a quelling hand. “Don’t even bother tryin’ to talk me out of it, because you won’t win.”
“Fine, have it your way.”
Lord, save me from these alpha males. Both Zane and her brother acted as though she were made of glass.
He squinted, placing a fingertip against his ear.
“Do you hear somethin’?” Earlier, he’d put an earbud in so he could communicate with the rest of the group. They’d offered to give her one, but since she had a babysitter, Ellie hadn’t bothered.
“Are we a go, West?” He listened for the response and then nodded. “We’re on the move.” Zane hopped out of the car, and she followed him.
Instead of knocking, or opening the door, Zane planted his foot in the middle of it with a swift kick, and the wood split in two. He reached a hand inside and opened the door. Tommy had once told her they were door-kickers, and he hadn’t been kidding.
Weapon drawn, Zane checked every square inch of the place, while she waited on the front step, glancing around nervously. She heard rustling sounds across the street in the woods.
Must be a raccoon or a possum. I hope.
“It’s clear, you can come in.”
As she walked in the door, a musty smell nearly overwhelmed her. It was like being in a basement, or a cellar. It was a small place with one bed, a postage-stamp sized living room, and a tiny kitchen off to one side.
“Ugh.” Ellie’s nose twitched.
“Yeah, I know. Don’t worry, we won’t be here long.”
While she glanced around, Zane spoke with his team over the comms.
When he finished, Zane glanced at her. “Storm’s been busy on the computers. The FBI executed a raid today.”
“How’d he get access to that kind of information?” She doubted the FBI posted a press release about ongoing investigations on their website.
“Yeah, you really don’t wanna know the answer.”
Fair enough.
“So, maybe they got some leads, and they’re takin’ it from here?” She’d love to have someone take this responsibility off her plate.
“Maybe, but I doubt it.”
Ellie sighed. “I was afraid you’d say that.”
“We’ve got a lot more terrorism expertise than they do. And don’t tell Mack I said this, but their techniques don’t get the job done. Huntin’ down mob bosses and outlaw bikers is much easier. They’re in it for their own self-interest, the prestige, and the dough. As soon as you threaten them with a prison sentence, they fold. Terrorists are true believers, and it’s hard to convince them to turn on one another.”
As he spoke, Zane pulled a pocketknife from his back pocket and casually slashed open the stained mattress and then pulled the stuffing out, evidently searching for contraband.
“So, I was right to come to y’all for help?”
“Exactly.” He went to the fridge, which was mounted on the wall to save space, and poked around in the freezer.
Meanwhile, Ellie busied herself opening compartments. There were dozens of them. For the most part, she found ordinary stuff like his socks and undies. Gross.
“Storm might have a contact or two in the government, he can ask about this.”
Ellie tensed.
“Don’t worry. He’ll be discreet, of course, and your name will never come up. My guess is, they bagged and tagged the evidence, but these boys were long gone by the time they got here. I think they’ve gone dark.”
“And what does that mean?” From his tone, going dark sounded ominous.
“We’ll talk about it later, in the team meetin’. Let’s finish this.”
They picked through the rest of the trailer but didn’t find much.
“Dammit.” Zane punched the wall. “This place is clean.” He blew out a breath. “You said he was in the military?”
“Yeah, Marshall was a Marine.”
“Evidently, he really is the brains of this operation, and he knows how to cover his tracks. Where did he serve?”
“In Afghanistan. From what Dave said, he got injured and was discharged, but when he got back home, the VA kept denyin’ his claims.”
“Why?”
“They said he had a pre-existin’ condition.”
“So, they were tryin’ to weasel out of payin’ for his care? Nice. And let me guess, that’s when he took up the sovereign cause?”
“Yeah, and he seems pretty far out there.” Although she hadn’t spent much time with the man. Maybe Marshall’s well of crazy went a lot deeper than she thought.
“Come on, let’s get out of here. We ain’t going to find anything.” He walked to the door, opened it, and was about to step outside when he rocked back on his heels. “Son of a bitch.” A bullet smashed into his left shoulder.
Lightning fast, he slammed it shut and hit the deck.
“Get down, Ellie.” She crouched down next to him. “Zane, are you okay?”
They were both dressed in black, so the blood didn’t show, but sweat had broken out on his brow, and his arm shook, as he gripped the gun. She tentatively pressed a hand against the wound, and her palm came back red and wet.
“I’ve been better,” he drawled. “But it ain’t the worst gunshot wound I’ve ever had.”
And then she remembered the rustling sound in the woods. Definitely not a raccoon.
“What the hell are you doing in Marshall’s trailer?” A man called in the distance. He must’ve been waiting for them while they were inside.
“Who wants to know?”
“I’m askin’ the questions here, not you. Are you tryin’ to rob him?”
Ellie couldn’t see the man since she was on her hands and knees, but his voice sounded older, and a bit shaky.
“What would we steal?” she asked Zane. “Used underwear? He doesn’t have any valuables.” She hadn’t seen a television or a computer. Not even a stereo.
“No, I work for a security firm,” Zane called. “I wanted him to answer some questions about a case I’ve been workin’ on.”
“What case?” the man shouted.
Zane ignored the question. “Do you always go around shootin’ strangers?”
“When I got a reason to? Yeah. You’re trespassin’.”
“Look, I’m injured, and I need to see a doctor. We don’t want any trouble. All we’re gonna do is leave. So, we’ll come outside, with our hands raised. I won’t shoot you, and you won’t fire your gun again, okay?”
After an insanely long pause, he spoke.
“Fine, you can come out, but don’t make any sudden movements.”
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Ellie whispered.
“Do you wanna call the police and explain why we were breakin’ and enterin’?”
Ellie groaned. “When you put it that way…”
As they exited the trailer, an old man stepped out of the tree line. Zane lifted his flashlight, so they could see him better. He had a gun belt strapped to his thin hips. His long scraggly beard hung down all the way to his belt line. A cowboy hat teetered precariously on his head. His face was lined and leathery, like an old football.
The old codger grunted, when he saw them, as though he wasn’t impressed.
“What’s your name, old timer?” Zane asked.
Was there a hint of respect in his tone? The old guy had gotten the drop on him, and she bet it hadn’t happened a lot.
“None of your damn business.” He scowled. “Why? Are you gonna call the police on me?”
Ellie chuckled, despite herself.
“Nah, you didn’t hit anything important.” Zane was maintaining a brave front, but he swayed on his feet. Maybe the blood loss was getting to him? “What are you doin’ up in the middle of the night?”
“Huntin’ possums, you damn fool. What do you think? They only come out at night.”
Hunting them to eat? Yuck, but whatever. To each their own. Her dad had loved hunting squirrels, and he’d even made squirrel gravy with his biscuits.
“Do you know where Marshall went?” Ellie asked, on the oft chance, Grumpy Old Man knew something.
“No, and if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“What’s he been up to lately? Anythin’ suspicious?” Zane asked. “Or out of the ordinary?”
“No, he’s been tryin’ to make a livin’, workin’ on a plumbin’ job.”
A plumbing job? Since when had Marshall learned a trade?
“Now, get on out of here.” He pointed to the Jeep. “I’m givin’ you to the count of ten, and then I’m gonna put another hole in you.”
The cranky old coot didn’t have to tell them twice.
***
Zane groaned as Ellie helped him make it up the stairs.
He had one arm slung over her shoulder, and she guided him along the rail. Hours had passed since they’d been standing together on the road being threatened by an elderly man with a gun.
She’d wanted to take him to the hospital, but Zane had flatly refused. Ellie didn’t care if they arrested her. She’d been afraid Zane would lose too much blood before they got him home to Tommy. Before going into the service, Tommy had been an EMT, and he served as a medic in the Navy, too.
Zane had told her they’d both be in trouble.
And he had a point. He had a gunshot wound, and those were always reported to the police. She was beaten up, too. It was the sort of situation that would make the cops suspicious.
Not to mention, there was probably a warrant out for her arrest. Both of them would have ended up downtown.
Tommy had done the best he could under the circumstances. He dug out the bullet, cleaned and sanitized the wound, and then bandaged him up. Ellie had stayed with Zane the entire time, even though she’d felt queasy. Tommy had also given him some antibiotics, ibuprofen, and a bottle of whiskey for the pain.
“Come on. Let’s get you into bed.” She opened his bedroom door and did her best to ignore how awkward this was. Bomber was perched on the end of the bed, and he wagged his tail in greeting, before going back to sleep.
Zane was halfway drunk, from the whiskey and swaying on his feet. Tommy had poured some down Zane’s throat before tackling the gunshot wound.
“You need to get undressed.” Hopefully, he would take care of it himself, and she wouldn’t have to intervene.
Zane hobbled inside and sat down on the edge of the bed with a heavy sigh. He tried to lift his shirt but hissed in pain.
Ellie groaned. “Here, let me help you.” She gingerly slipped the shirt over his head, trying hard not to injure him further.
And that’s when she noticed a bruise on his side.
“You really did a number on yourself, didn’t you?” she asked.
The bruise extended from back to front, around his side and ended just above his navel.
“No, Tommy did.”
“He can be a real bastard sometimes.”
Her comment was said without any venom. As a kid, he’d roughhoused and held her down for “noogies” and other boyish crap. She used to wish they had brothers so Tommy could bother them instead.
“Amen.”
“Why’d he hit you?”
“I risked Savvy’s safety.”
“Oh. And he went all caveman on you, huh?”
Tommy was protective in the extreme, especially toward the women he cared about. And while she found it annoying at times, it could also be charming. At least she knew he really loved her.
“Yup.
“Can you help me wash up?” He grimaced. “I’d hop in the shower, but—”
“Of course, I will.” While Tommy had taken care of cleaning the wound, he hadn’t touched the rest. Zane was blood-spattered, as though he’d been dipped in red paint.
“Do you need more alcohol?” In case she accidentally jostled him in the process.
“Yeah.” She handed him the bottle, and he swallowed a couple more mouthfuls. She filled a basin with warm water, and grabbed a washcloth and towel, along with soap.
He raised his arm but winced.
She took a breath. “Let me help.” She knelt beside Zane and washed his neck and torso. His abdomen jumped under her hands, rippled as she stroked the terrycloth over him, as though mocking her.
Ellie wished his injuries was the only thing she noticed. He had a killer set of abs, a six-pack, which looked like it had been carved from granite. Her fingertips itched to trace the ridges of each one.
Ugh. Get it together. This was about helping Zane, not ogling him.
Careful of his bandages, she washed around the dressing and kept her thoughts purely professional. Okay, 98% professional.
After she finished washing and drying him off, Zane bent down to unlace his shoes, and nearly fell off the bed in the process.
“Here, let me get it.” She leaned down and undid his boots.
Everything about this tableau felt intimate. Helping a guy to bed was something a wife or a girlfriend would do. Not a friend.
No, they weren’t even friends. They hadn’t been so close in years. She was an acquaintance, or maybe a family friend, considering Zane’s relationship with Tommy.
Zane sighed. The poor guy could barely keep his eyes open, and a wave of regret hit her. Zane was injured and exhausted. And it was all her fault.
“God, I’m so sorry.”
“Why? You didn’t shoot me or punch me.” Zane laid down and his eyes drifted closed.
“Can I get you anythin’ else?” Ellie knew she should go, and let him get some rest, but she didn’t want to leave.
“No, I’m fine.” He sighed, his features going slack as sleep tugged at the edges of his consciousness.
“If you do, just ask. I’ll get it for you.”
He mumbled unintelligible something in reply.
Ellie brushed the hair from his forehead. Impulsively, she pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, her mouth settling against his warm skin.
When she pulled back, his eyes snapped open, and his pupils swallowed the irises.
Zane made it a point to never touch her, with his hands at least. His eyes were another story. They followed her everywhere she went. She’d caught him watching her countless times, as though he couldn’t bear to look away. As though she were so damned interesting he had to stare.
They said nothing for several, long simmering seconds.
The sexual tension between them crackled to life like a banked fire exposed to a gust of wind. It had been there the whole time, hidden.
It was thrilling. Exciting.
Ellie dipped her head once more and brushed her mouth against his. Lord help me, I can’t keep my hands or my mouth to myself.
He shuddered but didn’t jump away this time.
Ellie pulled back, kicking herself for giving into the moment.
This wasn’t going anywhere. It couldn’t. Ellie was on her way to jail, and she’d just gotten out of a terrible relationship. Zane kept crooking his finger at her, only to push her away later.
This was never going to work.
She cleared her throat. “You’d better get some rest, Zane. You need to heal.”
Zane patted the covers. “Stay with me until I fall asleep?”
“But—”
“Come on,” he said with the ghost of a grin. “I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”
What If I don’t want you to be?
Regardless, Ellie didn’t have the heart to turn him down.
“Come here,” he whispered, drawing her in close to him. Zane breathed into her hair, rubbing his chin against the strands. “This is what I needed.”
“Me too.” Ellie closed her eyes.
“I need you, Ellie. Always have.”
Ellie swallowed, waiting for him to elaborate, but all she heard was his soft snore filling the silence.
Must be the whiskey talking. Had to be.