His Father

“WHO?” he bellows, looking around the room.

“You’ll see her in a second, you Russian prick.” A fed I recognize as Samuels from last night raises his gun and with a bang, Yaroslava is gone, just like that, just like Tucker. “Oops, crossfire casualty.”

He high-fives a man beside him who sneers down at the Russian father and daughter before somebody tosses a sheet over their faces.

I turn and dry heave properly this time, needing to vomit but my stomach is empty. Stone rubs my back but I push him away.

“I’m sorry I let it get so far, I needed you to be in a position I could grab and move you,” he explains softly.

“That all just happened,” I say, looking around the room. The only casualties seem to be on Yaroslava’s side. His two henchmen are dead, his daughter, her guards…

I heave again and feel hands on my arms; when I see it’s Sargent I shove him away and shout, “Don’t you fucking dare. Don’t touch me.”

“Tempest,” he tries. “I can explain.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” I cry. “You’re disgusting… how could you?”

“He didn’t have a choice,” Stone interrupts, defending Sargent like a typical guy.

“There’s always a choice,” I hiss. He reaches for me again, his hand to my cheek and I almost vomit at the thought of where it’s just been. “No. Don’t.”

“Tempest, please,” he whispers but is drawn away by Samuels.

I’m guided away too for my statement and whatever the fuck else. I just want to be gone from here so badly.

Sargent

It’s done. The FBI have enough evidence to move in on the Russians. Stone who was wearing a wire has been cleared of all involvement and so have I. But I can’t celebrate. Seeing her face, her eyes as I came down those stairs. I broke her. Hell, the entire thing broke me.

I feel as though I can’t breathe.

These assholes move around my home, collecting bullets and other evidence.

I’m done with them now; my life is my own again. No more feds, no more drugs, no more mafia, or what’s left of it now that the FBI and CIA have enough to get into Russia.

Well, it’s mostly over.

I move to where she’s standing, her jeans partly open since the button doesn’t keep the flaps together, her top crooked and off center with a rip up the side, her hair a mess and her eyes swollen from crying.

My hand lingers in the space between us, she needs to accept my touch. I don’t want to upset her any more than she is already. “Temp…”

“Maddox!” she cries and brushes past me and straight into the arms of my son.

Maddox holds her, his chin atop of her head as she turns her face away from me. He doesn’t meet my eyes and I know why. He’s ashamed of what I’ve done. If only he knew it was the only way to keep him safe. I did my best. I wasn’t greedy, I paid my debts, I was just a naïve kid.

“Maddox,” I try, brushing past Samuels who is trying to get my attention.

“Not now, Dad,” Maddox replies, his eyes sad as they come to mine. “We’ll talk, but not now. Let me get her out of here.”

“No,” I say firmly and grab his arm. “You’re not leaving, not until this is sorted and neither is she. I deserve the chance to explain myself.”

“You will,” he replies gently as I resist the urge to thread my fingers through her hair and pull her into my arms. Doesn’t she see that I need her too? “Dad…”

“I didn’t have a choice, Tempest,” I try again but she makes no movement to say she has heard me. “You have to believe me.”

“Dad, not now,” Maddox barks. “Now isn’t the time.”

Samuels, who has been a party to this one-sided conversation, hands a foil blanket to Maddox and helps him wrap it around her. She doesn’t look at me with her vacant eyes or broken expression, she looks at the bodies and then the couch and I beg her mentally to just look at me.

Maddox leads her away with an agent hot on their heels. I wonder if I’ll ever see her smile at me again, if she’ll ever allow it. The thought burns my throat and eyes. Maddox will understand, perhaps he already does.

“I kept him under witness protection until I figured out who I could trust,” Samuels explains looking around the room at his men.

“You could have told me that.”

“I couldn’t risk anything going wrong.”

I can understand that.

“He knows you were trying to get out of it. He’ll come around and so will she.”

“I fucked another woman less than an hour after she left. She’s not coming back.”

He shakes his head, his empathy apparent in his features. “If it’s worth fixing, then fix it.”

“I’m free to leave?” I question, raising a brow as we meet eyes.