Page 85 of Oathbreaker

“So, we’re safe?”

I nod even though I decide I need to clarify that with Colt—he’s back and I didn’t even consider if what he endured could cross the ocean and affect our lives here.

Aside from the obvious emotional and mental load, that is.

But even as I think that, I’m helping Frankie unbuckle. “Yeah, baby,” I say. “We’re safe.”

“’Kay!” She nods and hops down from the car.

“Do you want to talk more about it?”

A shake of her head. “Nope!”

All right then.

Smiling, I grab her things and start trailing her up to the house.

Then freeze when she says, “Colt kissed you. Josie says that means he’s going to be my dad for real now.”

Twenty-Six

Colt

“Are we safe, Colt?”

I’ve just put some monstrosity of a portable beach cabana in the back of Briar’s SUV when she tosses out the question so casually it takes a second for it to register.

Slowly, I turn to her. “What do you mean?”

“Your…associates in Russia. Or wherever. Do they have access to you or any reason to find you?”

Shit.

I should have reassured her about that the moment I set foot in her house.

“No. Absolutely not. When they caught me, I had the ID of a totally different person—someone who doesn’t even exist. And they have no reason to come after me. They know—knew—I was a spy, but they never got any useful information out of me, and the whole time I was there it was just a matter of the guards making an example out of me.”

“So, it was all for nothing?” she asks softly, one hand on my arm, staring up into my face with concern.

“In the grand scheme of the spy game? Yes. A big, miserable waste of time.”

“And suffering.”

I manage to smile, so she doesn’t see the darkness that lurks in my subconscious whenever I talk about all that. “That too.”

“Get help, Colt.” Her voice is a whisper as she leans up for a kiss. “For Frankie, for me, and for yourself. Promise me.”

Like I could refuse her anything.

“I promise.” I bend my head, capturing her sweet lips—one thing that makes all the darkness disappear. Always.

“You’re kissing. Again.” The disapproving little chirp makes us both laugh. “I thought we were going to the beach?”

“We are,” I reply, scooping Frankie up and tickling her. She squeals with laughter, even as a protest escapes her. “I was just asking Mommy how many more toys we have to bring because the whole car is full!”

“It’s not full!” She dramatically rolls her eyes. “But I need my water guns—put me down!” She’s off like a shot and I give her mother a baleful look.

“Water guns? Really?”