Page 6 of Covert Operation

“Do whatever makes you comfortable.” That’s my whole goal. Making her comfortable again.

Savannah drops her bag to the floor before working down the zipper of her parka. She hangs it next to mine before smoothing down the fabric of her pink cropped sweatshirt. “Should I change into my tennis shoes now too?”

“Not unless you want to. You won’t need them for this.”

She seems to relax a little more, her fidgeting fingers dropping from where they’re twisting the hem of her shirt. “Okay.” Her eyes shift from side to side before coming to me. “Now what?”

I move a little closer but keep enough space between us that she won’t feel crowded. “Now you scream at the mother fuckers who put you in this position.”

THREE

SAVANNAH

HE’S KIDDING. HE’S got to be kidding.

Please let him be kidding.

I look over Zeke’s face, hoping to find some hint that he’s teasing me, even though I know he’s not. Zeke isn’t really the teasing type. He’s always serious. Always focused. It’s part of the reason I felt comfortable enough to approach him while I keep the rest of the men who work at Alaskan Security at arm’s length. They’re all extra kind to me because they know what I’ve been through, and I know they are committed to the women they’re with. But...

If I didn’t know all of those things, their overly friendly smiles, soft words, and somewhat forced laughter would make me feel like they were flirting with me even though they’re not. And allowing myself to be charmed by a man is what got me abducted, held hostage, and raped. Now, flirting and charm sends my stomach rolling.

But Zeke’s serious temperament is a double-edged sword. On one hand, it makes it easy to see he’s not flirting with me.

But it also means he is extremely serious about wanting me to scream.

I shake my head. “I’d rather not.”

A hint of empathy flickers across his stoic face. “I know. Breaking that seal is a slippery slope.” His steely blue eyes hold mine. “But keeping it in will rot you from the inside out, Savannah. Don’t let them do that to you.”

I swallow hard, my throat getting tight because I know I’ve already lost part of myself to the very rot he’s speaking of.

I used to be happy. Used to love my life. So many things brought me joy and peace. After narrowly escaping Russia with my sister and my life, I swore I would never take another day for granted.

But here I am. Hiding. Watching time go past me. And I want to be happy again. I want to find the joy I used to grip so tightly.

That’s the only reason I find myself taking a deep breath, hands clenching at my sides as I rock on my feet. Opening my mouth, I push out a yell. It’s not long. It’s not loud. But hopefully it’s enough to appease the man in front of me.

Zeke shakes his head before I’m even finished. “That’s not it. You know it’s not.”

I hold his eyes, because, once again, he’s right. Has somehow managed to see right through me.

It should irritate me. Irk me that he didn’t listen when I said I didn’t want to do this. Instead, it makes me feel better. Gives me hope. Makes me think he’ll keep me from getting in my own way. Stop me from stopping myself.

So, for a second time, I take a deep breath, clench my fists and yell. This one comes from my belly, turning guttural as it twists up and out, filling the silence of the gun range with only a little of my frustration and fear.

Zeke nods in approval. “Good.” He crosses his impossibly thick arms over his chest, eyes locked on mine. “Again.”

This time it’s easier, and the scream rips out of me, taking all the air in my lungs with it.

Zeke nods as I pull in another breath. “Excellent.” His tone is gentle. “Again.”

I’ve already got the air I need and I scream again, tipping my head back, aiming it at the vaulted ceiling, trying to force it into every corner of the oversized space. The sound flies free and I hear the pain. The suffering. The agony as it echoes around me.

My next breath fights to fill my lungs and I don’t wait for Zeke to tell me again, I just scream. But this time it turns into a sob. I can’t stop it. Can’t control my body as it’s consumed by each tortured wail that breaks free. Over and over again they pour out of me. Tearing loose until there’s nothing more to come out. Then I stumble forward, latching onto Zeke as I sag, weak and drained.

My cries continue as I cling to him. Not loud and long like before, but soft, hiccuppy sounds break free as I press my wet, tear-streaked face against the soft cotton of his shirt.

His big, broad body stiffens for just a second, but then his arms encircle me, warm palms gently smoothing along my spine.