Page 50 of Redemption's Inferno

“Em…” He growled his dissatisfaction but she merely looked up at him, her blue eyes not wavering.

“I’ve told you everything about me,” she said. “I know you can’t tell me the details of your last mission, or a lot about your time with MI6, but you can tell me your feelings about those things…about me…about my unconventional life.”

“My feelings for you are...” He stroked her hair, keeping his eyes on hers, hoping she could feel his sincerity. “…difficult to explain, but very easy to have.” At her confused look, he added, “I mean, I definitely have very deep, complicated feelings for you that I’ve never had for anyone else, but I’m struggling with how to tell you.”

“It’s too soon to say I love you, but there are many other ways to tell me how you feel.”

“Give me an example,” he said, trying to focus on her eyes instead of his raging hard-on.

“I used to crave pain,” she said. “It was the only way I could reach orgasm. I was so dark inside, so broken, it was only when my body would scream with the agony of intense pain that the blackness would lift long enough for me to find release. It would only last a little while, so I wanted more and more, until I needed to be hurt in ways that weren’t healthy any longer. The first time you made love to me, you loved the blackness right out of my soul. The goodness in you was able to reach past all the ugliness in me, until you found my heart. And now it belongs to you.”

“Jesus, Emilie.” He was touched and overwhelmed by what she’d said, unable to fathom that level of inner pain or how he’d managed to breach it. His mother had been more right than he’d ever imagined, and he owed her for forcing him to take something he’d never thought he wanted.

“You don’t have to say anything. Telling you what you mean to me after such a short time together doesn’t require reciprocation.”

“But it does, love.” He stared up at the ceiling. “When MI6 approached me I was still at university. I finished high school a year early so I wasn’t even 18 yet and they suggested I might be a good fit for them. I needed to study languages and business, and I’d already planned to join the Royal Air Force. I was just 20 when I got my degree and went into the military. I became a pilot and loved it, loved everything about the military. I craved danger and excitement, though, the way only a young man can. I left after five years and became an operative. I loved being a spy even more than I’d loved being a pilot.” He smiled ruefully. “Somewhere along the way I decided a woman would be a liability, that I could spend 20 years working in the field and later, if I retired to a desk job, maybe then I’d think about a family…but I left after seven years. I was 31 years old and didn’t have any idea what to do with myself.”

“It must have been a terrible time for you,” she said, snuggling closer to him, sensing how difficult it was for him to talk about this time in his life.

“You have no idea,” he admitted. “I lost friends on that last mission and then I found out one of my best mates—an American, a Marine—was killed that same day in Afghanistan. It was the last straw for me. I lost my friends in the unit we were working with, and then Shay…” He seemed lost in the memory for a moment before clearing his throat. “Yeah, anyway, I was gutted. When I got back to London for the debriefing, I wasn’t the same. I couldn’t get the mission out of my mind and when I got the news about Shay, I was done. I put in my resignation and disappeared for a bit. Hid out in the South Pacific for six months until Joe found me.”

“How did you know Joe?” she asked curiously. “I don’t think I ever asked.”

“He’s a martial arts expert and he taught classes for the FBI and CIA and such. I took one of those classes when the agency did a training exchange—some of us went to Langley, Virginia and some of their blokes came here. Joe and I hit it off because I excelled at the fighting and we stayed in touch. When I fell off the grid, he tracked me down and came to find me, offered me a job working for his new firm. I flew to New York with him and he helped me rebuild my life, but I made the decision friends were a liability. Not only could they be used to get to me, they also made me weak.” He finally looked at her again. “But being with you doesn’t make me feel weak—you bring me a different strength. When I met you and you set those cold, assessing eyes on me, I knew there was someone else who was hurting inside, just like I was. Hiding. Refusing to let anyone in. You pushed your husband into someone else’s arms and the whole time you were doing it, I wondered what hurt you to make you ruin what you had with him.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m a better man for having let you in. The anger about my lost career as a spy, the loss of my friends…I thought I would never have purpose again but you’ve given it to me, in an odd way. I still have the same job, the same life waiting for me in Las Vegas—but having you means life isn’t empty anymore. You brought me back to life; back to my mother, my country, and even to a place where I can talk about that last mission without wanting to hurt someone.”

“I miss my daughter, but I need more time with only you,” she said.

“Where shall we go?” he asked. “We have time. No one at home knows exactly what’s happening here. We could take a few days—a week—and go on holiday. A real holiday.”

“Greece,” she said immediately, thinking of a place there she loved. “There’s a little hotel in Sounion…”

Chapter 19

There were cars parked in the driveway and up and down the street as the taxi dropped them off in front of Viggo and Jamie’s house, and Chains looked at Emilie curiously. Her pretty face was tilted up at the sky, a smile on her face.

“I missed Las Vegas,” she sighed. “I love Europe, but this is home.” She paused to look at him. “Is that weird?”

“Not at all—this is where you live, work and where your daughter is. Stands to reason you missed it.”

“It appears that Jamie and Viggo have made our house a gathering place…and based on the cars, it’s the usual suspects, except for a couple.”

“That’s Dante’s truck,” Chains nodded. “And the blue Mustang is probably Joe’s—he always rents a convertible if he can.”

“I don’t recognize the white car,” Emilie frowned. “But the black SUV is Karl’s.”

“The white car looks like another rental,” Chains said, tossing his backpack over his shoulder and pulling their suitcases to the front door. Emilie followed with her carry-on bag, digging her keys out of her purse.

“As long as there’s food, I don’t care how many people are here!” she said, grinning up at him and he paused to bend his head and kiss her. Spending a week alone on a beach in Greece had been so much better than he’d imagined it would be. They’d been completely off the grid, living in a tiny local hotel in Sounion near the Temple of Poseidon and riding around on a rented Vespa. It had been the most romantic and emotionally intense time he’d ever spent with a woman and he was almost dreading coming back to reality. They were here, though, and she’d just unlocked the door, so he was going to have to man up.

“They’re out back, by the pool,” she said. “Come on, let’s put our stuff in my room and then go surprise everyone.”

He nodded. “This was your idea—I’m just the hired help.”

“You are not!” she laughed, pausing to wrap her arms around his neck. “Stop saying that!”

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