Page 76 of Covert Operation

I’m not super surprised by that. “Have you threatened to peel other men and dip them in lemon juice?”

“Not that specifically.” Lydia purses her lips, eyes lifting to one side as she considers. “I think I threatened to castrate the last guy and feed him his chicken-fried balls.”

We reach the car and Jamison and Maddox stand at each side as all four of us girls pile into the back seat. Once we’re closed in, both men climb in and we pull away. As soon as we reach the highway, the woman slumps against my sister, her relief palpable in the silence of the SUV.

I swallow hard, waiting for the moment to pull me back in time to my own moment of rescue. The seconds tick by, anticipation and dread hovering in the wings, ready to settle around me the second the opportunity presents itself.

But my lungs never constrict. My stomach never lurches. My throat never closes up. The visceral reaction I’ve experienced at almost every reminder of what happened never materializes. All I feel is deep empathy and sadness for what happened to the woman clinging to my sister. It’s just as strong and just as consuming, but for the first time in a year, the pain isn’t my own.

Leaning forward, I tap Maddox on the shoulder. “Can I use your phone?”

Once it’s in my hand, I open the texting app and tap out a message to Zeke.

I helped Sadie and Lydia save a woman from her abuser today.

I chew my lip as I wait, uncertain if he’s even able to respond. Within seconds a little bubble appears and I clutch the phone tighter.

Zeke

How do you feel?

I knew he wouldn’t be upset. Zeke will always support me in anything I need or want to do.

I’m okay. I hate what she went through though.

Another bubble pops up.

Zeke

That part never gets easier.

I press one hand to my stomach, because I realize this is a little of how Zeke felt when I came to him. When Mona and every other woman came to him. He suffers for each one of us. Faces his own pain and ours.

Because Zeke can never leave his behind. Not like I can. It doesn’t belong to him. He carries it for someone else. Someone who couldn’t bear it.

I force in air, fighting through a similar sort of pain. Pain for him. Pain for Kendra. Pain for the woman beside me.

But none of it’s mine.

I’m done carrying that. Forever.

THIRTY-TWO

ZEKE

SLIDING MY phone into the pocket of my coat, I press a pair of binoculars back against my eyes, peering through for any sign of the men who once occupied the building we’ve been staking out for nearly two days.

“Where the fuck are these guys?” Luca paces behind me, his boots scuffing against the filthy floor of the vacant building we’ve taken over. “They can’t just disappear into thin air.”

“They can’t, but it seems like they did.” And I’m starting to get real fucking pissed off about it.

The longer this drags out, the longer I’m stuck being apart from Savannah. The longer she’s stuck in Lydia and Christian’s spare bedroom. The longer I have to wait for our life together to start.

I activate the speaker on my earpiece, connecting to the rest of my team. “Anyone see anything?”

We’re set up all around the building Heidi and the rest of Intel zeroed in on, waiting for some sort of movement. At nearly forty-eight hours with zero action, I’m about to call it.

“Not a fucking thing,” Bryce answers back.