Redeeming Her SEAL (ASSIGNMENT Caribbean Nights #9) - Kat Cantrell Page 0,46

himself, let alone expose her to? Funny how she’d gotten him exactly where he didn’t want to be—in the middle of an all-night conversation with no sex on the menu.

At least if they were having sex, he could blast away everything else for a few minutes and just feel good. For once.

“Because of… all the other stuff?”

Jared Anderson. The blank wasn’t hard to fill. But it was hard to dial back the spurt of anger at the mere thought of his name. Yeah. That was part of the equation. But not all. It was so much easier to let her believe the only thing holding them apart was her sins. Which was definitely not the right thing to do.

“I don’t know how to answer that,” he finally said. “I know how to pleasure you. What you like, where to touch you, how you like to be kissed. Sex is easy. But I… have a hard time knowing how to talk to you when we have so many subjects we have to avoid.”

“My fault,” she interjected quietly. “I can put the blame where it’s due. I’m sorry I hurt you by dating Jared.”

Two drops splashed on his bare arm where her cheek lay. Because she was crying. It loosened the bands around his chest. Wordlessly, he pulled her tighter into his embrace and kissed her temple as he processed the apology.

She had hurt him. More than he’d been willing to acknowledge, but hearing her admission unspooled all of it until he could hardly stand to be in his own head. This time, he didn’t let go of her though. Darkness covered a lot of sins, and he was willing to take her regret at face value. Maybe forgiveness didn’t have to be so hard if he understood what had happened.

“Why?” he whispered. “Of all people. He was my friend. Was being the operative word, once his real character reared its ugly head. I don’t understand what you could possibly see in him.”

That was one of the things that hurt the most. The man had spent months trying to destroy him, and Audra had been sleeping with the ruthless, cunning ass.

She didn’t answer. Of course not. Because he was pushing her for a reason, an excuse—something. But she wouldn’t give up a shred of intel that she didn’t want to share. Secrets represented far too much intimacy. More intimacy than she’d wanted with Charlie anyway.

He could not take this any longer.

But just as he was about to untangle himself so he could vault from the bed, she laced her fingers with his.

“Isaac…” She gulped. “Isaac died, Charlie.”

The long, lone sob that followed her brutal statement echoed in his suddenly hollow chest. The images in his black box spilled out. Death, blood, carnage—all of it superimposed over the face of her brother, and the silent scream inside that was always a breath away from being unleashed boiled to the surface.

“No,” Charlie ground out through his suddenly numb throat as if denial would magically make the truth not be true, and then he couldn’t speak at all as he processed both that her brother was gone and that he was in the throes of a flashback that could end in a very ugly place.

He swallowed. And again. Her scent bled through him, and her body centered him. He had to get a grip. For Audra. She did not need his own crap interfering with her grief.

Dear God. He’d wondered at the kid’s notable absence, but never would he have imagined the explanation would be so… horrible.

“When?” he asked.

“Right before you came back,” she whispered, her voice as broken as Charlie’s.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” And how would she have? Osmosis? Carrier pigeon? He’d been the one to cut off communication, refusing to respond to her notes and texts after he’d told her sayonara. Why the hell would she have sought him out? “I can answer that for myself. Forget I asked.”

But what should he ask? The questions filtering through his brain sounded more like a cross-examination than support, and his confusion would just add weight to her already-shaking shoulders. He didn’t know how to do this.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

He gathered her close and let her sob on his shirt as long as she wanted to while he stroked her hair and murmured what he hoped she’d take as soothing sounds, but God knew what he was saying. His spine was vibrating with the effort it took to hold back the shakes which usually tore