pined after her for two fucking years and now that she’s free you’re gonna let her walk? Jesus, you’re a moron.”
“That was before,” Tag snapped.
“Before what? Before she tried to protect you? Before she took a bullet for you?”
Tag scowled, thumping his shoulders against the brick of a pillow. “Before she put her brother before the entire fucking US military.”
It hadn’t been just him and his teammates she’d thrown to the enemy in her quest to protect Sean. She’d tossed every soldier from every U.S. military branch onto the ground beside them. Hell, she’d tossed every soldier in the whole fucking world out while she’d been at it. Those guns were in terrorists’ hands far and wide, ready to be used on peacekeepers everywhere.
“You were a big part of that deal,” Tram reminded him, his voice harder than ever. “And need I remind you that she had solid grounds for her concern over your safety? Mitch did gun you down, exactly as he told her he would.”
Now that was a fucking low blow. Accurate, but God damn low. The big black cloud inside of him churned harder.
“Fuck you.” The words seethed out of him in raging shame.
Because the fucking bastard was right. Mitch had taken him down. Hell, Tag hadn’t even managed to get off a fucking return shot.
“And when it comes to choices,” Tram drawled, his cold, narrow gaze locked on Tag’s face, “before you jump all over Sarah for the ones she made, let’s examine the one you were willing to make. Like demanding that Dev trade the memory card for Sarah.”
Tag froze and then scowled. “That’s different.”
“Like fuck it is.” Tram wasn’t satisfied with just a scoff this time. He rolled his eyes for extra emphasis. “From where I’m standing? Looks like the exact same deal. For the exact same reason. You were ready to turn over the only thing we had to identify the arms traffickers and take down Mitch. And you were ready to do it without hesitation, all in the hopes of protecting Sarah.” He paused, lifted his eyebrows. “Why is what she did any different than what you tried to do?”
Because…because…
Tag looked hard at his reasoning and scowled. The tornado inside him withered. Yeah…because it wasn’t.
Fuuuuck…it wasn’t.
She’d let the bad guys go free because of her love for him and her brother. Because she wanted to protect them. He would have let the same assholes walk free because of his love for Sarah and his need to protect her. They were exactly the same thing.
His self-righteousness vanished, as if someone had pricked it with a knife.
He’d been willing to do anything to get Sarah back. Anything to keep her alive. Anything to protect her.
Why the hell would he expect any less from her?
Son of a bitch. Turned out he was a God damn hypocrite. He grimaced, accepting the flood of shame. Then refocused.
“You said she’s coming here first? Before she leaves?”
“That’s what she said.”
Tag nodded slightly. Good. He still had time to apologize. Convince her to stay. Not that it mattered, not really. He’d blow this flea bag hospital and follow her back to San Diego if he had to. He wasn’t letting her get away this time.
“What about the memory card?” he demanded. “Has NCIS identified any of those bastards with Mitch?”
He didn’t remember most of the first day following his surgery. Other than hazy impressions of Sarah’s flowery, calming scent surrounding him. Or the feel of her soft hand cradling his. He’d wake up during those early days searching for that scent and her hand.
It had been, what? Yesterday? Or maybe the day before when Devlin had played the videos for him. The memory card that Sean Gillespie had squirreled away had contained several videos. Devlin had been sharp enough to make a couple of copies before handing the original off to NCIS.
But then the lieutenant commander’s rank wasn’t some bullshit political appointment. Dev had gotten there because he was smart and driven and a fucking Special Operator. One of the best. He was willing to get his hands dirty when the situation required it. Hell, he wanted to nail those traitorous bastards as much as Tag or Tram…or fuck, anyone else at HQ1. No way was Dev handing over the only copy of the videos that exposed the criminals involved.
Not that the memory card had unmasked anyone other than Mitch so far.
They’d watched the videos—all three of them—dozens of times on Tram’s new laptop. But the film was grainy as