What the hell is he doing here?
I stop struggling and compose myself. Hyde’s eyes are wide, the edges tight with anger.
“Sorry, sir,” I mutter.
“Agent Johanson decided to assault Agent Williams. You need to tell Bates this shit isn’t going to fly,” Sammi says, pinning Maria with a stare that could kill. “Lily and Dresden are back. This team has never cared for Johanson. Find a way, Monroe, and get her the hell out of here.”
“Agent Johanson, what’s the meaning of this?”
She at least has the grace to look down at the floor, her cheeks reddening. “Sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”
“You’re damn right it won’t. Now, go back to the safe house. Agents Krezner and Arcos can stay here with Agent Williams and Mr. Mason.”
She shuffles from the room, her gaze lingering on Blake long enough to piss me off. He, Sammi, and Vlad exchange glances. Vlad shakes his head ever so slightly.
Something is definitely up. “Excuse me a second,” I say moving to the hallway.
Quickly, I dial Dresden’s cell number.
“Viper, what’s wrong?”
“Is anyone there acting strange?”
“What do you mean?”
“I dunno. Johanson just slapped me. Lucky for her, Vlad was here to keep me from killing her. Him, Sammi . . . and Blake, they’re acting strange, like they’re hiding something.”
“We’ll talk when I get there tomorrow. I’ve noticed too. No one here will look me in the face, not even Shannon.”
What. The. Fuck.
“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Back in the hospital room, Blake is alone, staring at his cell phone. A tear slides down his face. He wipes it away and slides his thumb across the screen, more tears falling down his face.
“What’re you looking at, babe?”
He takes a deep, sighing breath as I sit on the side of his bed. I take the phone from his hands, my chest tightening at the picture on the screen of me sleeping. Sliding through, they’re all pictures of me. Sleeping, standing on the balcony at his apartment, sparing with Rhett the day we started this assignment . . .
“I didn’t know you took all these,” I whisper.
“I spent the first eight months of witness protection drinking and staring at those pictures.”
My heart all but stops. I hand him his phone back and gently rub my fingers against the five o’clock shadow on his cheek.
“I really am sorry, Blake.”
He groans and pulls me into the bed, running his fingertips across my shoulder as I nuzzle against his side.
This has to get easier . . . right?
4
~Lily~
The next five days pass as quickly as molasses in January. Blake’s doctor is releasing him today, and we’re going to the new safe house. Elation doesn’t begin to describe the overwhelming feelings bubbling in my chest. Thankfully, Blake’s stronger than we thought, refusing a wheelchair and walking to the car. It’s a three-hour drive to northwest Maryland, and I’m anxious to get going.
Jameson grabs my bicep as I start to climb in the backseat of the SUV,