Page 58

Chapter
Twenty
BONES
Sounds of pans on counters, fridge opening and closing, followed by chopping in the kitchen told me he was up. The doors to the rooms Alphabet and Voodoo had taken the night before were both closed. A low whistle kicked up, then stretched into a tune.
I paused, hand on the swinging door, to identify the song. He was whistlingPatience. Interesting choice. The door swung inward silently. It was still dark outside, the sunrise at least another hour off.
The scent of fresh coffee perfumed the air and there was a whole pot of it that he’d brewed. Dressed in jeans and nothing else, Lunchbox chopped vegetables with his back to the door. The red marks on his neck and shoulders were very visible.
Even if we hadn’t heard her for a good portion of the day and into the evening, the shift in their relationship was blatantly obvious. I waited until he paused mid-chop to let the door swing closed behind me and headed for the coffee pot.
Silence rushed in to fill the room. The apartment that Grace hadborrowedfor us was very nice. Too nice. We’d need to make sure we didn’t damage it. No sense in leaving her friend holding the bag for our choices.
Voodoo and I had already discussed that when we left the day before to get supplies. We needed another safe house in the area anyway. Locating one and locking it down could fill in the hours while Alphabet worked on decrypting the files we’d taken.
I filled a large mug with coffee, taking about half of what was left in the pot. Downing a long swallow of the strong brew, I let it burn away the cobwebs and the light fog from low sleep. Carrying the mug, I settled at the kitchen table with my phone.
Aware of Lunchbox’s stare, I opened my emails and flipped through the responses that had come in through the night. I’d tapped some sources I still had in intelligence. Reached out to other contacts we’d cultivated over the past few years.
We’d done more than one black bag job that couldn’t have official fingerprints. Beyond the actual Network itself, we’d developed other—connections through intelligence sources and local resources in the region.
The chopping resumed without the whistling this time when I took another swallow of coffee. I spared him a look. His jaw had tightened and he glared at the vegetables he was chopping like they were the culprits.
“You want to hit me or just make that face until it cracks?” The question pinged off the walls like we were sitting inside a game of pinball. It whooshed past me, grazing but not quite scoring the hit he was going for.
Lunchbox stared at me steadily as he finished chopping an onion then scraped it all into a bowl. The lack of pretense was probably a good thing. We needed to address this issue. All of us.
But we had to be controlled because I wasn’t going to risk destroying this kitchen to solve it. Leaning back in my chair, I turned the phone facedown.
It shouldn’thaveto be said, but here we were.
“She’s not yours,” I told him. Not clenching my jaw took effort. Where his opening salvo had sailed past me, mine struck.His knuckles went white on the knife handle before he shifted to rinse it and the cutting board off.
“She’s notyours, either.” That landed. More than I cared to admit, that sliced. But I could handle the blow. It took a lot more than a cut to stop me.
He pulled out a basket of potatoes in a strainer from the sink and went to work cutting them.
Blowing out a long breath, I weighed my options. Direct would be better for both of us, no matter how much it might cost. “Do you really think this is about territory?”
“Nope, Cap, I don’t.” He didn’t look up as he halved, then quartered, the chopped until he’d made solid square shaped potatoes for frying. “I think this is about the fact that you’re terrified of needing her.”
I ignored the accusation. Fear had no place in command. Fear could choke. Fear cost lives. I wouldn’t let fear cost me any of them. “What about what she needs?”
He spared me a look before swapping his knife to his free hand and picking up his coffee. “You’ve been fighting this since Pennsylvania. Watching her bleed, letting her carry it, pretending you don’t give a damn and that she needed to be treated as nothing more than a client.”
After emptying the mug, he returned it to the counter then began to chop again.
“You might like to think you’re stone, Cap. But you’re not.” He shook his head, making steady progress through the potatoes. “I’ve let it slide. At first, I got it, she’s been through hell. She’s not all the way through it yet. Voodoo—he’s already invested and even when it pissed me off, he helped her.”
“Something you made clear when you punched him.” The dry delivery stopped Lunchbox mid-chop and he just stared at me. “Fortunately, the shifting nature of the relationship hasn’t disrupted the team too much.”
He snorted. “You do realize the only one who has ever sounded jealous isyou?”
I didn’t bother to deny it. “Then you haven’t been paying as close attention as you claim.”
“Do you think keeping our distance is going to protect her? Do you thinknottouching her is a noble sacrifice?” He shook his head. “They took a lot from her. A hell of a lot more than she will admit to herself. That need she has for control, you should recognize it.”