Joint Forces (Wingmen Warriors 7)

She nodded against his chest, nuzzling deeper as if she wanted to burrow inside him.

"We're going to shuffle back-to-back and untie each other. Can you do that?"

She nodded again.

Shifting, scooting, trying like hell not to make noise, he moved. His feet bumped old gym shoes, rain boots. An umbrella toppled.

Crap.

He froze. Stopped breathing, waited. The umbrella rolled down his arm to a whisper rest against the floor.

J.T. inched again until his fingers touched Rena's. She linked hers with his for three precious seconds before she picked at the binding.

He searched by touch along her wrists … hell. She was secured tight with some kind of rope. How she made her fingers bend and maneuver along his binds he couldn't even imagine. Her hands must be numb. And then there was the baby, too.

Damn it, he needed to do something, but all he could do was talk. A wry smile kicked in. That's what she'd always wanted from him, after all, and he could come through now, reassure her if nothing else. Say all the things she needed to hear.

Say all the things he needed to say to her in case he never had the chance again. "I still remember the first time I saw you. It was like somebody colorized a black-and-white movie. A hokey thought, huh?"

She melted against him a little and he thought maybe it wasn't so hokey, after all. Too bad he'd never thought to say it before.

"I'm committed to my job, don't get me wrong, and I love the hell out of it. But there are parts that are … tough. Dark. The things that we do and places we go, it's so—" he struggled for the word "—opposite of home. I don't know how else to describe it. Even when I'm enjoying the job, the whole time that I'm away I still look forward to coming home, flipping the switch that shifts from there to here, dark to bright colors."

Her breathing grew quieter, her fingers slower for a second before she picked at the cord around his wrists again. Her smaller hands pried at the knots better than his fumbling ones, much the way she'd always been able to work free those strings of knots that seemed to build into a chain on the kids' gym shoes.

He leaned forward to give her better access to his bound wrists. "Problem was, sometimes the switch got stuck, my head was there even though my body's here. And I don't know how to be in both places at the same time." A low laugh climbed free. "I can already hear you asking me why the two have to be separate. But there are things I don't want in my house. Things I don't want touching my family. Or touching you."

The cord fell free from him. His fingers burned with the rush of returning circulation. He tried to flex, but couldn't order his hands to move yet. Kinda like how he'd known he should act and say certain things when he'd returned but his body just stayed … stuck.

He couldn't afford the luxury of time now.

J.T. shook his arms and gritted through the fiery pain. "It's not because I didn't think you were strong enough. God, babe, what you do holding this family together year after year while I'm gone… How you held it together today…"

His fingers twitched, clenched, slowly listened to his brain. He reached behind Rena to untie the bandanna gag. "You're the strongest person I've ever met, but you shouldn't have to be." He fumbled, yanked, untwisted the knot. "You didn't sign on for this. I did."

The bandanna slipped free and landed around her neck.

Rena leaned forward, forehead to forehead, tears glinting even through the dark. "J.T.? I didn't sign on for a job. I signed on for you, wherever you are, good or bad places, I want to be there, too."

Her hands still bound, she toppled forward to kiss him and he thanked God for the chance to hold her. A privilege he wouldn't throw away again.

Rena skimmed her lips over his once more, then rocked back on her heels. "Now, what are we going to do to take out that bastard before our son comes home from school?"

Chris flung his backpack onto the ground by the park bench outside school.

Okay, he was trying not to be an ungrateful brat. Geez, he was already lucky his parents hadn't killed him for holding out about what happened at the restaurant. But like, couldn't they at least pick him up on time? As if it wasn't bad enough everyone would see his "mommy and daddy" drive up to get him.

At least no one had tried to pound him today while John Murdoch was absent and couldn't stick up for him.

Chris slouched lower on the bench. He was really, really trying not to screw up and piss off his folks. He'd actually turned down four different rides because, if his dad didn't think it was safe for him to drive himself, then he shouldn't take rides with others his age—even if one of those "others" was this really cute babe from his Spanish II class.

Nope, he'd called Bo. A mature choice. Right? Since that's who Dad picked to stay over when Mom was in the hospital.

And at least Bo drove a cool Jeep with the top down most of the time rather than a dorky parentmobile.

"Hey, Chris?" Shelby leaned over the back of the bench into his sight line. "What's going on? I thought you were using your mom's car 'til everything works out with buying you another one."

Geez, her dark hair smelled good swinging right there beside his face. He could even remember how soft it felt when he'd hugged her while she cried.