Finally.
After all this time.
Would it make a difference? Would it even matter to her? Or would she simply rebuff him, angered anew by the fact that his current mission wasn’t the one she wanted it to be?
D.T. swore under his breath. He’d have taken another swig of Scotch if she hadn’t swiped his glass. But he suspected, after their previous discussions, she likely needed the fortification as much as he did.
Propping his hip against the edge of the desk, D.T. crossed his arms over his chest. “You may find this difficult to believe, but I do care about the war. The outcome, in particular. I want us to prevail, make no mistake about it, Gizelle.”
She set the empty glass beside him. “You have a funny way of showing it, D.T. Wanting me to quit blockade running. Spending all your time on this planet.” He could tell she had something disparaging to say about PX330, and he didn’t blame her. He could at least understand that it seemed decadent and frivolous for him to reside here.
But damn it! It was also extremely advantageous as he gathered intel for the Protective Forces. He was a spy, for Christ’s sake!
His belief in The Cause—freedom and everything it took to fight for it—was something that lived and breathed in his heart and soul. The need for victory flowed through his veins the way it did every other warrior in the galaxy. D.T. had fought for the Milky Way’s freedom since he was sixteen years old. He continued to fight for it today.
Not that Gizelle or many others would know that. For D.T. was working a covert intelligence mission that gave the illusion of his disinterest in the war in his home galaxy. But really, he played a pretty damned active role in combating the invading force.
In all honesty, the currency he could score from the gold bars he’d recovered today would help his plight exponentially. But he knew Gizelle needed the resources more than he did, for D.T. had other streams of revenue to tap into in order to help him secure the information needed by the Protective Forces to continue to fight their enemy. Including his own vast fortune. He wasn’t above dipping into his private stash of gold to make things happen when all other means of persuasion failed.
Though he did have a pretty damn good system in place as it was. The life forms from M81—home to the invading force—might be droids, but they still had some basic needs. The Pleasure Providers on PX330 offered services that satiated those desires. And like other planetary forms, human, alien or droid, the Gyllians tended to say the damnedest things in the throes of passion. D.T. and the leaders of the Protective Forces benefitted greatly from the information the Pleasure Providers gleaned while sharing the evening with a fighter from M81.
Would Gizelle ever understand his role?
Would he even try to help her understand?
The thought lodged itself in his brain. Was he as much to blame for their current dysfunctionality as she was?
Yes.
Letting out a low groan, he turned away and started pacing again. There was a reason he didn’t tell Gizelle everything. Even though it just might make her see him in a different light. A better light. Even though it might lead to a partnership between them that had the potential to keep her safe.
He’d held all of his secrets close for so long for one reason. Because he couldn’t begin to fathom rehashing the past. Calling forth all the memories he’d locked away, for purposes of maintaining his sanity. What D.T. had gone through since the age of sixteen, as he’d fought the invading force and moved up quickly in the ranks, was something he didn’t want to relive. Not even for Gizelle.
Yet, when she moved toward him, he felt his resolve weaken. On her beautiful face was a compelling look along with confusion and the obvious need to understand him, connect with him. “D.T.”
And he knew he was about to lose this battle.
“Why are you here? Why do you prefer this planet to ours?” Her voice was soft, reminding him of the intimacy they’d shared. They’d once bonded together physically despite their differences, but D.T. had never been as open and honest with her as he should have been. With his physical needs, yes. He’d never held back his passion for her, his desire. Even emotionally, he was willing to give her everything she needed to understand his depth of emotion and his true feelings for her.
Yet when it came to telling her who he really was, D.T. had never gone that far. Had never allowed himself to wallow in the past in order to bridge that one last gap with her.
Shaking his head as the dread crept up on him, and the memories he’d successfully kept at bay for the past four years encroached on his mind, he knew his time had come. But D.T. still struggled with telling her what she obviously needed to know.
When her hand reached out to him and her fingers curled around his forearm, he stopped pacing. Stopped running.
“There’s something I’m supposed to know about you,” she said in a soft voice. “What is it?”
D.T.’s jaw work vigorously. But he chose not to turn away. “I support the war, Gizelle. I believe in The Cause. I do what I can for it.”
And that’s when everything seemed to click into place for her. He could see the sudden shift in her as a look of surprise and excitement lit her eyes, and her fingers tightened around his arm.
“Oh, my God,” she said in a breathless tone. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.” She shook her head as though in amazement. “General Dylan Tanner. D.T. That’s you, isn’t it?”
What could he say to that?
Nope, not me. You’ve got the wrong guy, sweetheart.
Gizelle would see right through him. And maybe he wanted her to.