“You woke up a couple of times,” Lia said. “I wasn’t sure what I should do, but you settled down within a few minutes. You seemed to sleep pretty well after that, though.”
“I remember,” I told her. “How long was I out?”
“Almost six hours.”
Maybe it wasn’t a full night’s sleep, but it was a hell of a lot better than I had been getting. I couldn’t have said I felt right, but at least I knew what was happening around me. I leaned my head against her shoulder and touched my nose to her neck. I wanted to turn her toward me and kiss her the way I knew she liked it but not with the guard watching over us. I wasn’t much for public displays.
“Evan?”
“Hmm?”
“Tell me what happened.”
I tensed, wondering for a moment if she meant what I had done from the balcony of my apartment but understood pretty quickly that my display there wasn’t what she wanted to know. I knew it before she even had a chance to confirm it.
“Tell me what happened to you over there.”
“Fuck.” The word escaped from my throat like a rifle blast. My hands clenched into fists as images of tanks, uniformed enlisted troops with their eyes wide and nervous, and sand filled my mind. I shook my head to rid myself of the images, but it didn’t work.
“Please—I want to know.”
“No,” I said. I pushed myself up using the wall as support and stumbled a little as I gained my footing. Lia stood with me, her hand reaching out to touch my arm.
“Evan—I need to know so I can help you. How else am I supposed to know what to do?”
I stared at her, breathing through my mouth and trying not to hyperventilate. The thing was, I wanted to tell her—desperately so. I wanted to tell her everything—even the shit I never told the military during debriefing. But could I do it? Could I relive all of it over again for the sake of total disclosure? The guilt? The pain? The heat? The fucking sand?
The door opened, and Mark stepped in. His eyes darted back and forth as he tried to assess the situation. The noise and movement startled me, and I swallowed hard before taking a step back and breaking my connection with Lia completely.
“No.”
“Evan–” she called as she reached for me again.
“No!” I screamed and shoved her away.
She stumbled, and her back hit the wall behind her. Mark stepped up and reached for her, his hands grasping her arms to steady her and keep her from falling. Without hesitation, the guard grabbed me, yelled for backup, and wrestled me to the table. I didn’t resist—I knew when a fight was pointless. I knew that all too well.
“Don’t ask me.” I kept eye contact with her, pleading from the tabletop. “Please don’t ask me that.”
Lia stared at me, wide-eyed with tears forming on her lashes. I didn’t want her to be upset, but I couldn’t do what she was asking. I couldn’t go through all of that again.
Two other guards came in, but it must have been evident that I wasn’t protesting because they only helped get my hands back into the cuffs so I could be led out of the room and away from Lia and Mark.
Keep the crazy man away from the public.
Shit, this wasn’t going to help at all.
I closed my eyes as I was yanked back up to a standing position and pushed toward the door.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“It’s okay,” Lia responded. Her hand reached toward me, but with the guards in the way, she couldn’t quite touch. “It’ll be all right.”
I shook my head and smiled a little, wishing I could believe her words as she watched me being hauled away from her in cuffs once again. How could it ever be all right? As long as I worked for Moretti and the organization, Lia would be in danger if she were associated with me.
Nothing could be done to change that.
Chapter 4—Desperate Thoughts