Page 143 of Stealth Mission
I smash the tire again, the impact is so hard the palms of my hands tear and a layer of warm blood slicks to the handle.
Justice straightens, tugs at the neck of his shirt and steps toward me. He slaps a hand on my shoulder and leans in next to my ear. His voice is feral and low. “Get your shit together. If you think this team is letting you pull this bullshit and walk away from that woman when she makes you happy, you’re wrong, brother. So you better figure out how to bury your baggage and do it fast.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
A shadowy outline of Evan swinging the sledge hammer is cast on the shed and stretched out long across the agave plants.
It looks like a scene from hell.
A man condemned to hard labor in the midst of devil plants.
I want to erase the image from my mind, but know I’ll never be able to.
Every step I take up the hill, my legs grow shakier, and my heart beats faster. Something is very wrong.
I’m furious that no one would tell me. That I have to walk into this blind. And when Justice passes me going toward the house and barely looks my direction, I feel like screaming.
Seriously.
Evan raises the heavy sledgehammer in the air again. The light from the house catches on his muscles, highlighting the grime covering his arms.
“Stop,” I rasp with my heart splitting open inside of me. “Stop, Evan!”
He casts a hard glance my way and swings the hammer again. The motion is so violent, the way he yells when he strikes is so disturbing, that I leap back when the tire jumps off the ground.
The dusty space around him has dozens of ring marks and footprints beaten into the earth. Alarmed that he’s been at this for so long, I plead, “Please, stop and talk to me.”
When his eyes meet mine this time, the agony almost crushes me to the dirt. The pain goes all the way to my soul.
I reach for his arm. He stills, halting the hammer in the air.
“Put it down.”
He drops his head and blows out a rough breath, his muscles twitching from exertion. “I need to do this.”
I wrap my arms around his slick waist. “I need to do this.”
First, he’s rigid, his heart pounding below my ear at a scary rate, his muscles rock hard and unmoving.
Then he breathes. The sound of the air in his lungs is ragged and noisy.
“Put it down, please.”
The hammer thuds to the ground next to us. When it almost hits my ankle, he grabs me up against this chest, lifting me off of my feet.
I cling to him like a baby monkey. And I finally take a steady breath when he presses his nose against my ear and exhales in a low moan.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“I’m right where I need to be.”
He sets me down and holds me at arm’s length, his hands slick against my skin.
The way he looks at me feels like this is goodbye.
“No!” I grab his wrists. “No, you are not going to walk away from me without telling me what the hell is happening.”
“Baby…” The word is said so softly, with so much pain that it causes me to reflexively jerk back.