Page 32 of Delta (Alpha #12)

M y heart aches for him. For what he's endured. All the loss he's experienced. It doesn't seem like he's ever known a kind word or a tender touch, someone who cares for him just because. Generosity without strings. Compassion without expectation.

He's a hard man, no doubt. He's had to be.

He's had to claw, scrape, and fight for every last thing he's ever had.

And yet, despite that, I can see as plain as the nose on my face the love he has for his daughter.

I don't doubt for a second that if a doctor told him he could trade his life to heal her, he wouldn't even blink.

His gaze is skeptical, wary. "So what are you proposing?"

"I'm not proposing anything, Rush." I squeeze his hand.

"I'm asking you to have faith in me. In my family.

You rescued me. You've saved my life time and again.

And when it came down to the choice, you saved me.

And what I'm telling you is that that choice will not have been in vain.

I won't allow it, my parents won't allow it, and Aunt Key and Uncle Val won't allow it.

" I cup his hard jaw. "Look, the honest truth is that I can't make any promises as to what will happen, but the promise I can make is that whatever we can do, we will. "

He shakes his head. "Why? After what I done to you, why would you help me?"

I turn his face to mine. "Because I see you, Rush."

He tugs his face away, refusing to look at me. "Dunno what that means."

I pull him back to eye contact. "Hey." I stare at him, hard, until I'm sure he's not just hearing me but listening. "It means I understand. It means I know how to forgive you, and I do."

His eyes squeeze shut, and he shakes my head. "Nah. That's bullshit. Don't bullshit me, Bryn."

"If you'd left me there, obviously we'd be having a much different conversation," I say, and then bark a bitter laugh.

"Or actually, no, we wouldn't be. But you know what I mean.

The point is I'm not bullshitting you. I forgive you.

Keep me alive and out of Pugli's hands, and I'll do everything in my power to help Eliza.

You want to look at it as a deal, then that's the deal. "

"And you…" he glances at me sidelong. “You don't hate me for what I done to you?"

“No, Rush. I don't hate you. I was angry and shocked at first because it …

well, it was a shock. To find out the whole time you were playing me for your own ends?

Yeah, I was pissed. But you had a pretty good fucking reason, not just avarice or greed or whatever.

And in the end, you were faced with an impossible choice.

Obviously, I'm really fucking grateful you made the choice you did, because I really don't want to end up Pugli's sex slave.

Or anyone else's. And what kind of a person would I be if I didn't do everything I could for your daughter, after the choice you made? "

"Wasn't a choice, Bryn," he whispers. "I couldn't do it. Fuck me, but I tried. I did. I just couldn't do it."

"And that says a lot about your character, Rush. I think deep down, you actually are a good man. It's just…maybe no one has seen that in you, maybe no one has given you a chance to be that man. And maybe I can."

He swallows hard. "I'd like that."

"Well then, get me to Lisbon." I grab his cell phone from where it rests on his thigh. "First things first…" I look at him. "You have your important numbers memorized?"

He shrugs. "Of course, but—"

I toss the phone out the window. "We're not taking any chances."

"That phone was encrypted," Rush grumbles.

"Do you know for one hundred percent certain that Pugli has not and cannot track it?" I ask.

"No, nothing is ever a hundred percent anything, but—"

"Then we aren't taking the chance. The number one thing my Uncle Lear taught me was that any cell phone— any cell phone—can be hacked and tracked by someone with the right tools, training, and enough time. The second most important thing is that cards are even easier to track."

Rush snorts. "Well, that second one I know well enough, but I paid a lot of fuckin' money for a mobile no one can track or crack into."

"And what I’m saying is that in a situation like this, we can't afford to gamble. Pugli has immense resources—beyond those that mere wealth can provide, given his position within law enforcement."

He sighs. "You're right. We'll pick up a burner when we get to Lisbon."

I wave at the road ahead of us. "Well, then? Let's go! I want this tracker out of me post-fucking haste."

Lisbon is ancient and beautiful. In other circumstances, I'd be all over the opportunity to explore a place like this.

Alas, this is not such an opportunity. Seeing as I'd tossed Rush's phone out the window, and with it our sat-nav, as Rush calls it, we had to stop once we arrived in Lisbon to pick up a burner and ask for directions—we’re to meet our contact at a cafe on Almirante Reis near Alameda Park.

Rush has never been here either, so it takes us a few wrong turns before the shopkeeper's instructions made sense—neither of us speaks either Spanish or Portuguese, which made the process even trickier.

Eventually, we found Almirante Reis, and then after traveling in the wrong direction we found the park—a long, somewhat narrow rectangle of green space running perpendicular to the street, which cuts the park in half.

The cafe is only a block or so away from the park, and Rush finds an alley near the cafe where we stash our stolen ride.

He deftly un-hotwires the car, replacing the cover to a degree that it doesn't look obviously stolen, and we set out for the cafe on foot.

"You're pretty handy with the hotwiring," I say, smirking at him.

He shrugs. "Me and the lads watched a movie once, when we was waitin' on orders.

Some stupid shit from a long fuckin' time ago, and this character said a line I've not forgotten, even though I couldn't tell you a single thing from the rest of the film.

He was pickin' a lock I think, and he said it was the skills of a misspent youth.

That's me. I've got a lot of skills from a misspent youth. "

I snicker. "Seems like a lot of words for 'I was a trouble-making hooligan.'"

"I was bein' interesting and tellin' you something about myself." He arches an eyebrow. "Most women I've known are always after me to use more words, share more about me."

I lean into him hard, making him stumble to the side. "I'm just fucking with you, Rush. I do want you to share."

"Hard to tell when you're jokin', sometimes."

I snort. "The laugh didn't give it away?"

"I mean, people laugh when they're saying something true but mean."

"That wasn't mean, Rush. At least, I didn't think so. You were a homeless orphan, which is, in my understanding at least, not a socio-economic status that engenders a law-abiding lifestyle."

Rush shrugs and nods. "I suppose that's true, innit? But it's true mainly because the world ain't a fit, proper, or safe place for homeless orphans. Folks don't know what to do with the likes of us."

"No, I suppose most people don't," I agree.

Rush scans the signs and points at one. “Here we are, this is us."

We enter the cafe and Rush orders us meals. We find an open booth and sit on the same side, facing the doorway.

Rush, on the outside, glances at me. "Never sat in a booth with someone like this, both of us on the same side. Not sure if I like it or if it's weird."

I laugh. "Same, to be honest. I kinda like it, though. I can do this." I curl my hand around his bicep and rest my head on his shoulder.

"Well, that's a good point, that is." He turns his head to mine, inhaling my scent, and presses a soft kiss on the top of my head. "Coz then I can do that."

I feel my heart flip at the casually tender affection he's showing me, something I wouldn't have expected from a man like him in a million years. "Rush," I whisper.

He sniffs a soft laugh. "You say my name like that a lot. I never quite know what to make of it." I feel his attention, his thoughts going deep. "Why've you forgiven me so easily, Bryn?"

I sit up, sighing. "I take after my mother in a lot of ways, Rush. Sadly, I didn't get her tits and ass, but I did get her mercurial temperament."

"Okay, two things here," Rush says. "One, I've not met your mum, but I personally think the tits and arse you've got are pretty fuckin' spectacular. An' two, what's mercurial temperament mean?"

"My mom's a lot curvier than I am, is all I'm saying. I'm tall and lean like my dad. But I'm glad you like my body, Rush."

He snorts. "’Like’ it ain't quite the phrase I'd use."

"No? What would you say, then?"

"Fishin' for compliments, are you?"

I nod, laughing, as I mime casting with a fishing pole. "I'm not good at fishing for fish, but I'm great at fishing for compliments."

"Fair enough. I actually hate fishing. Boring and pointless. I want a fish, I’ll pop down to the grocery and buy one. Waste of fuckin' time sittin' around in a stupid tin boat throwin' hooks about hopin' some manky fish is idiot enough to try an' eat one."

I cackle. "Same! Now, deep sea fishing is a different story. That can be fun."

"Wossat like then?"

I grab his hand and squeeze. "Stick around and maybe we'll take you."

He looks at me. "Bryn, I…"

Our food arrives then, and we both begin eating.