in the room. She gave him an appreciative look as the others just shrugged.
“So, we’re in a holding pattern,” Mad Max said, ruffling Jugs’s fur. Jugs had a bandage on his shoulder. It reminded 2-Stroke of the ambush. Seeing that kid take the bullet then fall had been one of the worst moments of his life. All the chaotic noise from the night he’d killed his father scrambled around in his head. He closed his eyes. When he opened them, everyone had cleared out. Only he and Chry were left.
He looked up as she came over and sat down next to him. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m moving forward like I always do, Chry. It was an accident, and that boy was in the wrong place at the wrong time. That’s it. Shit happens. Dead is dead and we move on.” He let it go. “What did I miss?” he asked wearily, changing the subject. He hadn’t slept a wink last night. She looked like she wanted to wrap her arms around him, but he didn’t want her comfort. He wasn’t important. Sometimes no matter what he did, he lost innocent lives. But that wasn’t going to stop him from continuing to do what he did best.
“You’re going to get some R & R for a bit while the brass and the CIA figure out our next moves,” she said gently. She reached out and covered his hand. “I know this has been a grueling couple of months, losing Max like that and then having to deal with all this Kelly crap. I’m sorry, Neo.”
He nodded, remembering all of a sudden how things had changed for him when it came to Chry. He had discovered her in an alley with a bunch of teenage boys dogging her. He’d intervened, used to fending off bullies. When he’d chased them all away, she sneaked her hand into his and hung onto him like she was never letting go. They were about thirteen years old.
She had touched some very deep, territorial and protective feelings in him that day, and that was when their relationship had shifted. She was still his friend, still his soul mate, his nearly constant companion, but from that point on, he was always acutely aware that Chrysanthe Steele was a beautiful, sensual young woman.
He’d figured out a long time ago that Chry was reserved and wary by nature. At first he thought it was because of her absent alcoholic dad and their impoverished situation, but he finally realized that she would have been that way no matter what. It was simply part of who she was.
He rose, determined to be ready when he was needed. Before he could move, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him.
He closed his eyes, resisting her comfort. Her actions were more for her and the feelings she was allowing to work her over. He refused to let the darkness eat him from the inside out.
He broke away, cupped her face, rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone, then walked away.
12
“This guy is laughing at us,” Mouse said. He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like that.”
Dodger ruffled his hair and laughed. “We’ll get it done.” He looked at Anna and she smiled. “Right, I’m speaking to you, since you’re the brains of this outfit.”
And she was his heart. He had to admit that after the way she’d handled the chunk of his ugly past, he was reduced to accepting the fact that he’d piled on a lot of guilt. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Anna was so unpredictable—something he liked immensely about her. It had also made him realize that he was the one who was holding onto the shame, a hollow feeling that had dogged him for a long time. Her steadfast support had altered something in him. He had to forgive himself for what happened, and in some strange way, he had to forgive Hermione for betraying him like she did. Not forget what she’d done but let them both off the hook. That was a surprising revelation.
But the bitterness was gone. Now he was going to have to wade through what was left.
Maybe with time he could find his footing enough to forgive her and himself in the process. It would be a mental process, that was for sure.
Anna tilted her head and nudged him, her beauty hitting him hard, and the unbearable tenderness welling up in him had an even harder impact. He was falling for her.