Riding The Edge - Elise Faber Page 0,27
getting out of here, first and foremost. And I know that they can take care of themselves, but . . .”
“You’re worried.” I continued pulling and pushing at the stone. “We’re a team. A family that’s been looking after each other for these last few years, often through very serious and dangerous shit. That’s not a bad thing, Av.”
“I’m not supposed to feel—” She cut herself off.
“Feel what?”
“Feel anything.”
“You’re human,” I reminded her. “You’re allowed to feel things.”
“I haven’t really felt human for a long time,” she whispered. “I don’t think I’m capable of it.” She felt quiet for a heartbeat. “Look at what I did to you.”
I froze, sucked in a breath.
Twelve
Southern Italy
Unknown hrs local time
Ava
Why had I said that?
Oh God, why in the ever-loving fuck had I said that?
“What did you do to me, baby?”
My heart skipped a beat, lungs seizing for a moment. “Don’t call me baby.”
“What did you do to me, Ava?” A slight emphasis on her name, but no apology for the endearment present.
I let it slide. After all, I was the one with the giant mouth. “Any luck with the rock?”
“What, Ava?” he asked impatiently.
“I—”
What had I done? Regretted pushing him away? Yes. Wanted him every moment of the last two years? Double yes. Hated that I’d been a total bitch, even knowing that it was the only way to keep him at a distance? Yes, once again.
And now I’d spent the last ten minutes giving away too much—telling him that I’d been in this fucking cell before, that I’d broken my promise to never be back in it, and worst of all, that I’d done something to him.
“I’m a big boy, sweetheart,” he said. “I can handle it.”
“Don’t call me sweetheart,” I snapped. “And you know what? I didn’t do anything to you.”
“You’re right,” he told me.
“And even if I did end things rather abruptly between us, it was only for the better of the team. We’re not like Laila and Ryker.”
“No, we’re not.”
I listened to the soft scrape of rock against rock. “So, we couldn’t have kept on with what we were doing. It would have been bad for everyone.”
“Bad for you,” he murmured. “Bad for you and those solid walls you have up.”
My breath caught. “What?”
“What happened after we flew back that day?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit.” More crunching, the sound of pebbles hitting the ground reaching my ears. “We’d made plans to watch a movie. You’d promised to meet me in my quarters. What happened, caro? Why didn’t you show?”
Because I’d been reminded of exactly what I was.
One week of fantasy, of fantastic sex, of being more comfortable with another person than I’d ever felt in my life, and I’d thought maybe I could do it, could be with a man, could risk letting someone in.
Then I’d seen the files.
Laila had brought them to me just after Dan and I had returned to headquarters, asking me for insights on another team’s mission, promising she’d keep my name out of it, if I’d just offer my opinion on the team’s investigation. And . . . I’d seen what my family was doing all over again, remembered precisely what they were capable of.
No, I’d remembered precisely what I was capable of.
Not good. Not complete. Not worthy.
A total fucking shredded mess inside.
A person who’d done horrible, horrible things.
I couldn’t bring that into anyone’s life. Into his life.
So, I’d done the only thing I could.
I’d made sure he’d leave me alone.
“I’m not caro either.”
“Ava.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, pushing that day, the pictures, the memories away. This was nearly impossible, of course, considering where I was, but it was what I did. Lock everything down. Move forward. Forget. Forget. Forget that I was forgetting.
If you’re so good at forgetting, why isn’t that week with Dan a long-ago memory? my inner critic countered.
“And then when I came to see you, you were . . . hurting,” he said softly. “You wouldn’t let me help. Why?”
“I’m not discussing this. We need to figure out our exit. My ankle—”
“Isn’t going to get better in the next few minutes or hours,” he said. “We’re sitting in the dark, and I’m wiggling a rock. Tell me.”
“This is an old castle,” I said. “The walls are thick. They had a hell of a time wiring it for electricity and WiFi, even on the top story. The signal on our trackers—”
“Isn’t that why I’m wiggling the rock?” he asked. “Now, we’re trapped here. We’re not going anywhere in the