Hard As You Can

Chapter 20

It was only seven thirty at night, but Crystal felt like she’d been awake for days. Maybe longer. Despite the way her brain raced with worry over Jenna and with anticipation over the plan Shane’s friends had put in place to rescue her, Crystal’s limbs felt heavy and sluggish, her eyes stung, and her body just . . . hurt.

Yet none of that compared to what Jenna had to be going through. God, she’d had a seizure from the stress of the attack. She must’ve been so scared. And now she was alone in that pit of a room, the walls, floor, and ceiling all painted a deadening, solid black, along with the bed and the bedding. At least, that’s the way it had been four years ago. A sensory-deprivation chamber meant to disorient, break down, and heighten a person’s reactions to what took place within.

God, please let her be alone. Crystal shuddered and prayed that, just this once, Jenna’s epilepsy might prove an advantage. If her seizure had been bad, she could be semiconscious at best all night and into tomorrow. Maybe the postseizure symptoms she often had, the raspy breathing, vomiting, moaning, and tremors, would dissuade anyone from bothering her. It wasn’t much of a hope to hang on to, but it was something.

As soon as the discussion and brainstorming came to an end, Ike rose, shook everyone’s hands, and promised to be in touch. The man might’ve been in a rival gang, and his size and hard edges—with the bald head and large expanses of ink—might’ve been a little intimidating, but he’d also been gruffly kind and openly sympathetic to what’d happened to Jenna. Not everyone was like Bruno and the other Apostles. It was a good lesson to remember.

“All right,” Nick said, rising. “We’re going to need to be sharp tomorrow. So everyone sleep tonight.” He seemed especially to direct that comment at Derek, sitting at one of the computers.

“Trust me. I will. But I’m gonna keep an eye on the feeds from Confessions while I finish up the last of these searches and download Crystal’s pictures,” Derek said. Crystal had liked him since the night at the club. He was friendly and funny and easygoing. All of these guys were so different from the ones she’d been forced to hang around the past few years. Her gaze slid to big, quiet, serious-looking Beckett, working on his cell phone. Except for maybe that guy. He was a little scary.

“Good. I’m going to go check on Becca and Charlie. Feel free to grab me if you need me,” Nick said, then he turned to her. “It’s nice to meet you, Crystal. I’m sorry it wasn’t under better circumstances. But we’ll try to make that right tomorrow.”

She shouldn’t have been stunned by his kindness, but she kinda was. “Thank you,” she managed. “Thanks to all of you.”

Murmured expressions of welcome went around, and Nick headed out.

“Would you come with me?” Shane asked, something warm and intense in his gaze.

“Yeah.” Part of her feared being alone with him—for the first time with no danger of being caught, but part of her craved it.

Crystal gave the other guys a small wave, then she and Shane cut across the big warehouse room. It was an odd space. Only partially finished. Mostly a gym, Marz’s obviously thrown-together computer station filled one corner and an equally thrown-together table that appeared able to seat ten or twelve dominated another. “Where exactly are we?” she asked. She’d been in little position to pay much attention on the ride over here, but it felt strange not knowing where she was.

Shane opened the door for Crystal. “Off Eastern Avenue not far from the harbor. Above a tattoo shop called Hard Ink that belongs to Nick and Jeremy.”

“And you all know each other from the Army?”

He entered the code at a door across a wide industrial hallway. “Not Jeremy or Ike, but the rest of us.”

As in the five men from a twelve-man team who had survived what sounded like a horrific attack.

When Nick had recounted to Ike the events that led to the group of them being in this situation, Crystal had listened with interest and sadness for Shane. As if the loss of his little sister wasn’t enough, Shane had also gone through that ambush, lost a bunch of his friends, then had been forced out of the Army. That was a lot for anyone to bear.

Yet it hadn’t made Shane angry or bitter or prone to lash out. It made him want to help others from going through the same. And it made Crystal want to hold Shane, comfort him, and protect him the way he was protecting her.

“This way,” Shane said, leading her through the living room. The apartment was really cool. Masculine and modern. Tons bigger than the shoebox she and Jenna shared. Or, had shared. After they got Jenna back, could they even risk returning there for their things? Her stomach plummeted thinking they might have to give up their most cherished belongings, her mother’s sewing machine, the clothes she’d made, Jenna’s huge collection of books, their family pictures. All the money she’d saved. But she couldn’t worry about that right now. One thing at a time.

And the first thing—by far the most important thing—was getting Jenna back. Crystal’s insides nearly vibrated from the frustration and anxiety of having to wait. But it wasn’t like she had much of a choice because she didn’t believe Bruno would really let Jenna go if Crystal breezed in the front door. And having heard Shane’s friends talk through the options, she’d been convinced that going in under the cover of the bachelor party gave them all kinds of advantages.

But in the meantime, it was a little hard to exist in her skin. And it felt wrong to eat a meal or go to sleep or enjoy Shane’s company while Jenna was in such grave danger. If you don’t take care of yourself, you won’t be able to help Jenna when she returns. There was truth in that. With two such serious seizures so close together, Jenna’s health was likely to be rocky in the coming days.

To actually manage food in her belly or falling asleep, she was going to have to lock away her worry for Jenna. Temporarily. Easier said than done, though.

Maybe Shane could help. Maybe allowing herself the distraction of his company and his touch and his kind words was exactly what she needed.

Maybe wanting him—even now in the middle of this life-and-death situation—wasn’t the betrayal to Jenna that her conscience held it up to be.

Light spilled from under a doorway just ahead, and two people walked into the hallway as she and Shane neared.

“Oh, good. I was hoping I’d get to introduce you two tonight,” Shane said to a pretty blond-haired woman standing with Nick.

Shane’s introduction was hardly out of his mouth when Becca threw her arms around Crystal’s neck and hugged her. “Thank you so much for helping the guys get my brother out of there. I’m so sorry to hear about your sister. Nick just told me,” she said with such sincerity and concern.

Crystal was so unused to friendly, affectionate touch that at first she flinched in response to Becca’s expression of gratitude. But the other woman didn’t seem to notice. “You’re welcome,” Crystal said, her throat tight with sadness again. “I guess you know what this is like.”

Becca grasped Crystal’s hand. “I do. And if they could get Charlie out, they can get Jenna, too. Don’t lose hope.”

“I’ll try.” The conviction in Becca’s voice almost made Crystal believe it.

“We were gonna grab a bite to eat,” Nick said. “You guys want anything?”

“Crystal?” Shane asked, his big, warm hand on the small of her back.

Something about his touch there made her feel special, claimed. “Um, I wouldn’t mind a drink, but my stomach’s too jittery for food right now.”

Shane guided her to the kitchen, showed her the mountain of drink choices in the fridge, and grabbed her a Sprite and a glass of ice.

Nick pulled a half gallon of chocolate chocolate chip ice cream from the freezer. “You change your mind later, Crystal, just help yourself to anything. Make yourself at home. Okay?”

“Thanks,” she said, feeling a little shy in the midst of all the kindness but also incredibly welcomed, too.

“Thought you were getting food,” Shane said.

Nick pointed at the container of dark chocolate chip ice cream with the scoop. “What are you talking about? This is food.”

Becca laughed, and it made Crystal chuckle, too. Crystal was glad there was another woman here to talk to and that Becca knew exactly what she was going through right now.

Shane grabbed a bottle of water and nodded Crystal toward the hall. “Come on,” he said. “I actually live near D.C., but Nick invited us all to crash here when this situation started last week.” He pushed open the door and crossed to the nightstand to turn on a lamp. Low, warm, golden light cast over the room, which just had a queen-size bed with a dark comforter and a dresser within. Unlike the well-lived-in living room and kitchen areas, nothing hung on the walls. But it was clean and safe, and Shane was here. That was all Crystal needed.

Except, as much as she wanted to be alone with Shane, now that she was, she didn’t quite know what to do with herself. Would they sleep here together tonight? Nerves and desire fluttered through her belly, especially when she remembered she only had the clothes on her back.

“I don’t have any clothes,” she said.

Shane waved a hand at the series of duffels lining the one wall. “You’re, uh, welcome to borrow any of my stuff to sleep in or wear. I know it’ll be big, but we’ll figure out something more workable.”

Sleeping in Shane’s clothes? Heat skittered down her spine and made her shiver.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Shane patted the mattress. “Sit down, Crystal. I won’t bite,” he said, that smile she loved curving his lips upward.

“Well, that’s a shame.” Shane’s eyes flashed with masculine interest, and Crystal pressed her fingers to her lips. “I, uh . . .” She shook her head. What had possessed her to say that? She might as well have just thrown out a challenge. Or an invitation. And as intrigued as she was—as she’d been the whole time she’d known him—about what it would be like being intimate with him, she couldn’t help but worry she was setting herself up for a big fall.

What if she froze up or freaked out? What if, once he actually saw the scars, he lost interest?

“Crystal?” he said, patting the bed again.

“Right,” she said. “Sorry.”

Once she sat, Shane shifted toward her, bringing his leg up between them and grasping one of her hands. “I have some things I’d like to say if you think you might like to hear them. But if you’re just feeling too overwhelmed with everything, too worried about Jenna, and you’d rather I didn’t add to it, we can talk another time.”

Anticipation kicked her heart into a staccato beat. “No, I’m okay to talk.”

Shane rewarded her with a smile she felt all the way down to her toes. “Good. I’m glad.” He looked down to where his fingers stroked her hand. “The first thing I want to say is that until you no longer want it, this room is yours. There are some empty beds upstairs, but here you can lock the door and—”

Crystal dropped her gaze to her lap. He didn’t want to stay with her?

“What just happened there?” he asked, concern slipping into his gaze. “I said something wrong.”

“No,” she said, forcing a smile. “It’s okay. It’s great.”

Shane blew out a breath and shook his head, his frustration clear. And though Crystal regretted upsetting him and felt that old panic slinking around the back of her mind, she believed in her heart of hearts he wouldn’t lash out at her.

Next thing she knew, Shane had pushed her backward on the bed and leaned over her without resting any of his weight against her. “I want to make sure I have your attention.”

Her heart broke into a sprint from their position, from her desire to feel him atop her, and Crystal arched a brow. “I’d say you do.”

“Good. I’ve seen you with Bruno, and I’ve seen you while you’re working. And I know you put on an act that’s exactly what people want to see. Doing that made sense in those situations. But, Crystal, you never ever have to pretend with me. Disagree with me. Challenge me. Get mad at me. Tell me you need space. I’ll be okay with all of it. I want the real you, not an illusion or a performance. Does that make sense?”

The backs of her eyes stung at the insight of his words. “Perfect sense,” she said. “I’m just so used to doing it.”

He nodded, an intense expression on his handsome face. “I get that. It was a survival skill. But nothing will threaten you here. You can be yourself.”

Emotion caught in her throat, along with an anguished whimper. “I’m not sure who that is anymore,” she said in a tight voice.

Compassion filled his eyes. “Maybe I can help you figure it out. If you think I can, I’d like that.”

She gave a quick nod and batted away the tears that leaked from the corner of one eye. There was one thing she could do to be more herself, but would he be mad that she hadn’t told him sooner? God, she’d told him so many lies and half-truths, not because she’d intended to deceive, necessarily, but because she’d lived a life where secrets ensured survival.

“Now, why did what I said about the room bother you?”

Her gaze dragged down his chest, needing a break from the intensity of his eyes. Crystal wasn’t sure she’d ever known anyone as observant as Shane. “I liked that you said it could be my space, but I guess . . . I was hoping . . . that we could share it. But I totally understand if you’d rather—”

His hand against the top of her hair, Shane settled his body against the side of hers and kissed her on a groan. His lips were commanding but not rough. His tongue, caressing but not aggressive. She threaded her arms around his neck, wanting to make sure he didn’t go anywhere. God, it had only been a matter of hours, but she’d missed this closeness with him.

When he pulled away, he traced his nose along the contours of her face. “I would love to share this room—this bed—with you, but I don’t want to make you feel pressured. I want you, Crystal. I’ve told you that before. But I don’t have a right to you. No man does. It’s your choice. And even if you say yes now, to anything, you can always change your mind, okay?”

She hadn’t yet told him much about what the last four years had entailed, but it was clear that Shane had deduced a decent number of things for himself. More important, though, was the fact that he seemed to know exactly what she needed to hear. And that made her feel safe to consider sharing herself with Shane in a whole variety of ways.

“Okay,” she said, nodding. “Well, I like this a lot,” she said, pressing her lips to his. “And I like when you touch me. And I’d like to sleep with you in this bed.” She shivered, the unusual expression of her most honest feelings spiking adrenaline through her system. As she talked, he stroked her hair and face, and it made her feel adored. “I . . . I want you, too. But I, um . . .” Crystal shook her head. “I’m not sure that I’m ready for more tonight.” Nearly holding her breath, she forced herself to meet Shane’s gaze, and his eyes absolutely radiated desire and respect and understanding.

Shane brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles, once, twice. “I understand. Thank you for telling me where you are.” He winked and waggled his eyebrows. “For the record, I like the kissing and the touching, too.”

Crystal laughed and felt her cheeks warm. “Good to know,” she said, dropping her hands on either side of her head. Out of nowhere, a yawn tackled her. Crystal turned her head so she didn’t yawn in Shane’s face. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We could get changed, get ready for bed. That way if you start drifting off, it doesn’t matter?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” she said.

With a final kiss, Shane lifted off of her. And though she missed him immediately, her stomach did a loop-the-loop for the idea that in a few minutes, they were going to be lying in that bed for real, under the covers, together. He extended a hand and pulled her to her feet.

Crouching at one of his big green duffels, Shane yanked open the zipper. “What would you be most comfortable sleeping in?” he asked. “I’ve got plenty of T-shirts and sweats.” He rifled through a stack of folded clothing and pulled a few things out.

But Crystal’s gaze landed on the blue button-down on his back. Maybe it was ridiculous, but the idea of sleeping in something that he’d been wearing, that still held the heat of his body and the scent of his skin, sounded so thrilling that her brain refused to shake the idea. And he did say that he wanted the real her.

Crystal stepped forward and gently grasped the edge of his collar, and then she tugged.

“What?” he asked, looking up.

“I want to sleep in this,” she whispered. “I mean, if you don’t—”

Shane rose to his feet abruptly, and they stood so close that he towered over her. Roughly, he unbuttoned the shirt, starting at the top and working his way down. “Don’t you dare say anything in the neighborhood of an apology for telling me what you want. Because I think this is a damn good idea.” His gaze nearly scorched her as he spoke, spiking her pulse and heating her blood.

He whipped the cotton from his body revealing beautiful, masculine perfection. His chest and abdomen were made of sculpted muscles, graceful and powerful at the same time. The hard, curving lines beckoned her hands, which lifted without her telling them to. Her fingers landed on his belly, and he sucked in a breath that drew her gaze to his eyes.

Desire roared off him in the heat of his gaze, the opening of his mouth, the flicking of his tongue against his lip, his more rapid breathing.

In a slow revelry of movement, Crystal smoothed her hands and fingers over his skin, exploring the cut of muscle above his hips, the ridges covering his stomach, and the hard pads of his pecs. The feel of him made her mouth water and the nerves between her legs tingle.

She pressed a kiss to the winged-heart tattoo, so grateful he’d shared the image and the story behind it when she’d needed it most. Shane shuddered out a harsh breath.

It was clear from the bulge filling the front of his jeans that she was tormenting him—not that he complained. But that didn’t stop her from wanting to explore more of him.

Shifting to his side, she rubbed her hands up his arm where she found another tattoo on the outside of his right biceps, two crossed arrows beneath an upward-pointing dagger. Something military, maybe? Something hot, definitely.

As she stepped all the way around him, the large tattoo she’d only seen at a distance came into view. Crystal gasped. “This is magnificent,” she said, tracing her fingers over the wings of the aggressive bald eagle that covered his skin from his neck most of the way down his back. Its sharp beak was open as if in a screech, and its talons seemed poised to grasp its prey. “Why?” she asked.

“Eagles are the kings of the birds of prey,” came his deep voice. “They’re known for seeing what other creatures cannot and closing in on their prey before it even knows it’s being hunted.”

“And you admire these things?” she said, stroking her fingers down his spine and watching his muscles twitch.

Shane looked over his shoulder at her. “They were qualities that made me a damn good soldier. And the best feeling when you’re out in the field isn’t knowing your teammates have your back. It’s knowing that you have the ability to have theirs.”

Honor and conviction filled his words and gave her more evidence of the pure quality of this man’s character, heart, and soul. “They’re also majestic and beautiful and noble,” she said, coming around his other side. Just like him. She frowned at a healing wound across the top of his other shoulder. “What happened?”

“Gunshot, the night we rescued Charlie. Just a scratch,” he said.

Nodding, she slipped the shirt from his fingers and smiled.

“My turn?” he asked.

The smile dropped from her face. What he would find under her shirt was not beautiful.

He leaned down and cupped her face in his hand. “Every one of the men on my team has scars. And you know what those scars are?”

Heaving a shaky breath, she shook her head.

“They’re proof of survival. They’re badges of honor. They’re marks of strength.” Shane swallowed hard. “You don’t have to show me, Crystal. But you do need to know there’s nothing on your body I won’t love and respect. Because it’s you.”

The words reached into her chest and soothed her heart.

Was she going to live her life in fear forever? Hide forever? Or maybe, just maybe, could she trust someone to know the real her? To love the real her. Jenna had accepted her; maybe Shane would, too?

Crystal tilted her head to the side. “It’s not pretty.”

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Crystal. You’re brave and you’re strong and you’re sweet despite having been through hell and back. Nothing could change my opinion of that.” He stepped away. “There’s a bathroom right down the hall.”

She didn’t have to ask what he meant. He was giving her an out. Question was, did she want to take it?

That she was even considering revealing herself made her heart gallop and her stomach squeeze like she’d crested the highest hill on a roller coaster. With the exception of finding Jenna missing, it was possible she’d never been more terrified than she was at that moment.

“Shane,” she said, like his name was a life raft. And then she tugged the floral shirt over her head and dropped it to the floor along with his button-down. Her hair tumbled down her back and over her shoulders, soft and ticklish against her skin. White spots prickled at the corners of her vision, and Crystal forced herself to slow her breathing. Which got easier the moment she realized that Shane had not moved his gaze from her face.

“You don’t have to do this, Crystal. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

“I’m tired of being afraid,” she said, her breath hitching.

Shane shook his head. “The definition of courage is action in the face of fear. By that definition, sweetness, you’re the bravest person I know.”

A fat tear streaked down her face. How had she ever found someone with such innate goodness? Even if she only got to have him for a short while, she would remember him for the rest of her life as the man who had held her hand and helped her step onto the path to finding herself again. Reaching up behind her, she released the clasps on the white satin bra she wore and let the straps tumble down her arms, and then to the floor.

Shane’s Adam’s apple bobbed in a tortured, audible swallow, like he was as nervous as she was. The thought made her smile. “Touch me, Shane. Please?”

SHANE WAS NOT sure how he’d earned the honor of witnessing this woman’s strength and courage, nor the privilege of seeing her body and making her believe every part was beautiful. But he was determined to be worthy of both.

As much as he wanted to finally lay eyes and hands on her back, instinct told him to ease her into the exploration.

So he cupped her face in both hands and brought their lips together, which closed all the distance between their torsos, too. And, God, she was soft and warm against him, arousing and comforting at the same time. Kissing her softly, he let his hands drag down her throat and trace the fine line of her collarbones. From there, his fingers traveled over the curves of her shoulders and down her arms in a slow, teasing drag that made the fine hairs on her skin stand up.

Crystal trembled under his hands, but she stood firm, bright green eyes trained on his.

From her arms, Shane’s hands found the feminine curves of her waist. He smoothed his hands up and down from ribs to hips and back again, the heels of his palms caressing the sides of her breasts on each pass. Dragging his hands inward, he ran his knuckles over her smooth, flat belly, once again struck by how slight she was. It lured his protectiveness to the fore, reaffirming his commitment to do for her what it seemed no one had ever done before—take care of her, protect her, build her up.

On each upward stroke, Shane allowed his hands to brush the bottoms of her small breasts. Perfectly suited to her frame, he yearned to feel their warmth and their weight in his palms, to taste the pebbled flesh of her nipples in his mouth. But every instinct warned him to go slow and give her the chance to become accustomed to his intimate touch.

Shane had never wanted a woman so much, and they’d barely touched one another. With her gorgeous red hair and her flashing green eyes and her tight little body, Crystal was a total knockout. But it was the survivor in her that really spoke to his soul, that brought him peace and gave him purpose.

“You honor me with this trust, Crystal. I would never hurt you,” he said. This time, when his knuckles caressed her breasts, he turned his wrists and cupped the soft mounds in his hands.

Crystal jerked like he’d hurt her. “Wait. Stop.”

Shane tore his hands away and retreated a full step. “I’m sorry.” Damnit. He’d pushed too hard and fast again.

Breathing hard, she shook her head. “No. This isn’t right,” she said, her arm muscles tense, her hands fisted by her hips.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He bent and retrieved his shirt from the floor and handed it to her.

“No, it’s not that,” she said, stepping closer and rubbing her palm over her forehead. “I don’t know how to . . .” She dropped her face in her hands.

Shane was at a loss. If she hadn’t felt pressured, what accounted for the agitation rolling off her? “Talk to me, Crystal.”

“No. No, Shane. That’s just it.” Covering her breasts, she hugged herself, and the look of fear and despair on her face nearly broke his heart. What could— “I lied to you. My name isn’t Crystal.”

“Your name’s not Crystal?” he said, triumph surging through Shane’s blood so hard and so fast he could’ve roared it to the rooftops. He knew it. He knew it. Since that first night in her apartment, he’d known she’d lied about her surname, and he suspected “Crystal” had been part of her Confessions persona.

“Are you mad?”

Shane couldn’t hold back a smile. “Aw, darlin’, it’s okay. I suspected that from the beginning. I was just waiting for the day you felt comfortable enough to tell me. Come here,” he said, aching to comfort her. A hand in her hair, he pulled her into his embrace.

“You knew?” Her arms clutched at his back.

“I was pretty sure,” he said against her temple. Shane pulled away just enough to look her in the eyes. “I’m really happy you decided to tell me.” He smiled, a jolt of anticipation lancing through him, and realized she needed him to throw her a rope. He held out his hand and turned on his Southern charm. “Hi, I’m Shane McCallan. I’m so pleased to meet you.”

Her cheeks flamed but her smile was grateful. She took his hand. “Hi, Shane, I’m Sara Dean.”

Sara. Yeah. The name was real and sweet and feminine. “Sara Dean. A perfect name for such a beautiful girl.” Damn, but he was just about flying. This moment was why he’d told Marz not to reveal her name.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“What for, Sara? Protecting yourself?” Shane shook his head, his chest full with emotion. “Never be sorry for that. If you hadn’t done such a good job all this time, we might never have had the chance to meet.”

She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a molten-hot kiss that set his body on fire. The aggressiveness of her lips, the tightness of her grip, the yearning, needful moans spilling into his mouth reflected a woman taking a chance, taking charge, taking control. This woman, his Sara, was like a phoenix rising from the flames, and somehow this magical creature had pulled him inside the ring of fire and allowed him to stand witness to the miracle of her rebirth.

When she pulled away, they were both panting hard and smiling. It was a moment of such lightness and ease that Shane could’ve lived in it forever.

Sara—amazing how easily his brain accommodated to knowing the truth of the woman who held such sway over his heart—slipped her hand in his and squeezed. “There’s one more thing I need to share.” As Shane watched, she stepped around him, crossed the room, climbed on the bed, and stretched out on her stomach hugging a pillow beneath her head.

Showing Shane her scars. Letting him look his fill.

He knew battle-hardened warriors without that much courage and spirit.

But, aw, Christ. The injuries were worse than Shane had been able to feel by a factor of five. He hadn’t been wrong about the cause, though. Sara had been severely beaten. Multiple times with at least two instruments, he guessed.

A boulder parked itself on his chest, but he forced himself to move across the room and crawl up on the bed beside her.

“You okay?” he asked, brushing her hair over her right shoulder so that he could see the whole canvas of her back.

She turned her face toward him, but made no effort to make eye contact. “Yeah. Now, I am.”

“Will it bother you if I touch you there?”

“No. I can’t even feel some of it anymore.” And looking at where the deepest cuts had been and the most knotted scar tissue remained, Shane could guess where. “Do you really want to?” she asked, her voice a little grossed out.

Shane didn’t answer with words. And he didn’t explore with his hands.

Leaning over her, he pressed a firm kiss against the most gnarled scar just below her left shoulder blade. She gasped. “My beautiful Sara,” he said. Middle of her back, just left of her spine. Kiss. “Beautiful, beautiful Sara.” The tail end of the lowest scar. Kiss. “So very pretty.” As she trembled beneath him, he repeated the ritual for each distinct mark he could make out. Twenty-two in all. Seven darker, redder, deeper lines had been carved into her skin by one tool, and at least fifteen paler, flatter, stripes had been permanently etched into her skin by another.

Only when he’d kissed every one did he touch her with his hands, light strokes of his fingers and palms to learn the landscape of her. “Do you have lasting pain?” Shane asked, barely recognizing the almost hoarse voice that came out of him.

“My upper back gets fatigued easily if I try to carry too much,” she said in a low voice. “And my left shoulder always feels tight. Sometimes, there’s a lot of twingy achiness that comes out of nowhere.”

Lying on his side, Shane stretched out beside Sara, his face aligned with hers, his hand lightly stroking her back.

“Do you want to know?” she whispered.

“Yes,” Shane said, even though a part of him was already dying inside. Before the first words left her mouth, he reined himself in, slipping on his medic hat and borrowing a bit of the professional distance you were trained to develop when working life-or-death situations.

He didn’t want to scare her with his rage.

Slowly, almost mechanically, Sara recounted the downward spiral of events that spun out of her father’s arrest and the revelation of his massive indebtedness to the Church gang after his death in prison. The loss of her house, her belongings, her freedom. When she got to the moment when the first of the men had entered the basement room of Confessions, Shane turned onto his back and urged her to lay her head on his shoulder so he could hold her close. Over the course of four or five days, seven men came to Sara’s room. Often individually, once a group. She was raped, caned, and whipped before Bruno finally pulled her out, took her under his wing, and found her another way she could pay her father’s debts.

Shane’s chest burned with rage and regret. It was every worst-case scenario he’d imagined come to life. Prostitution, sexual slavery, forced labor. What hadn’t she gone through in the past four years? Sara’s voice drew him out of his thoughts.

Being forced to work at Confessions was when Sara slowly faded away. After Bruno’s rescue, she formally dropped out of college, cared for her teenage sister, and, at Bruno’s insistence, took on a new name. “By the time I realized what had happened to my life, it was too late to get it back again.”

“I’m so sorry, Sara,” Shane managed, hugging her in tight and kissing her forehead. “If I could take it away and bear it for you, I would.”

She tilted her face toward his and met his eyes. “You just did,” she said. After a moment, she burrowed into his body, and her muscles relaxed against him.

Shane reveled in the fact she’d felt safe enough to bare her body and her soul to him this way. He swallowed hard as a revelation overwhelmed him. “I’ve never felt closer to another person than I do to you.”

When she didn’t respond, Shane lifted his head to find her eyes closed and her face slack. After the day she’d had and the memories she’d shared, he didn’t blame her one bit, and he didn’t mind, either. They’d have plenty more time to talk and to love.

Sara had fallen asleep without a shirt, so Shane tugged the edge of the covers up over her bare skin. They never had managed to get changed. No matter. Whatever she needed, he was willing to do. For Sara.

Sara. Sara. Sara. The name suited her beauty and her quiet strength so well.

Emotion lodged in Shane’s throat.

He didn’t just want to be there for her tonight or tomorrow or during this mission, however long it lasted. Miraculously, Shane was flirting with thoughts of forever. When this was all over, she could come back to Northern Virginia with him. Or if she wished to live somewhere else, he’d consider that, too. Wasn’t like he loved the job he had. But he definitely loved Sara. Now he just had to find a way to convince her that she didn’t have to go on the run. That he could provide her and Jenna—when they got her back, because they would—a safe future.

Because he couldn’t live with any other result.