Page 112 of The Anchor Holds

“We’re not talking about you and Fiona. And you are trained to do all this shit. Elliot is not.”

I didn’t add that Elliot had only just recovered from being caught in a burning building by a fire set by the man I used to sleep with. Kip might’ve remembered Jasper as a teenager, but he didn’t know him as a man. I intended to keep it that way.

He gripped the back of his neck. “You don’t need to be trained by Uncle Sam to protect your woman, Calliope.”

“And I’m not a woman who needs a man to protect her, Kip.” Indignation bled from my tone. “I am going to handle it.”

He wanted to argue. I knew he did. Because he loved me. Because as progressive as he was in many ways, he was still unable to kick the notion that it was the man’s job to do the protecting. Every fiber of his being was calling on him to do that.

But Kip also knew me and had plenty of demons of his own. I prayed he’d understand why I came to him. Why I’d decided that he, of all people, would understand my need not to drag family members into the situation for fear of losing them.

“You cannot die, Calliope.” He suddenly sounded hoarse. “I don’t for a second doubt your ability to take on any bad motherfucker out there. But you cannot let anything bad happen to you. I’ll never forgive myself.”

I nodded, though my skin stung from his words hitting my body. Kip already had plenty of ill-gotten blame on his shoulders over the death of his wife and child. “I don’t plan on it. But if I do, it wouldn’t be your fault.”

He shook his head. “You’re putting me in an impossible position. Lying to my best friend. A man I respect. My wife. Since I know that she’ll try to interject herself into this shit too, and I’m not letting that happen.” His voice became flat, he sounded determined, his expression grave.

Kip did not fuck around when it came to Fiona’s safety. And though he’d never say it out loud, never fully admit it to even himself, he would sacrifice me in order to keep his wife safe. Something I was immensely happy about. It was my safety hatch.

“Hold on to that,” I pointed at him. “The thought of you saying something and it hurting your wife. Because it will. If you let anyone catch a whiff of anything we’re discussing, they will involve themselves.”

It was cruel of me to use his past against him, but I had to be cruel to protect everybody I loved.

This was just the start.

“You need to get this shit handled soon.” Kip narrowed his eyes at me, mouth a flat line. “Because there’s only so long my big mouth stays shut. Only so long you can keep the wolves at bay.”

“I’m aware,” I nodded, swearing I could hear those metaphorical wolves scratching at the door.

Time was not on my side. And it was past time to set my plans in motion. Whether or not I was ready didn’t matter.

My next task was not one that was cruel, though I expected a battle.

We were at Elliot’s place. As we were often these days. Rowan’s held all of my possessions, had a larger closet, an ocean view, more space, a much larger bathroom. Though all of my numerous skin care products were cluttered on Elliot’s small, single sink. Creature comforts I was used to.

Yet I voluntarily stayed there, in Elliot’s small space with a meager closet and a criminally small bathroom because I liked it much better there. Because I was with Elliot. His cottage was somehow becoming a home that a 1,000 square foot penthouse hadn’t been in a decade.

If we ate a home-cooked meal, he cooked. Since my efforts consisted of putting together a cheese board or a toddler-friendly meal which was usually mac and cheese or crackers.

Otherwise, I ordered in, dined out or ate cans of tuna.

Since Elliot was well enough to be back on his feet, back in the kitchen, and back on the boat, he’d thrown himself back intoall of it. I’d forbidden him from going back on the fire team. Something we argued about since men were unsurprisingly surly about being told what to do by protective women. Wasn’t that a treat?

Eric was on my team for the time being, giving Elliot an additional week off which Elliot groaned about.

He healed fast, though his broken ribs were still paining him, the bruises only just fading. I’d memorized every scratch, every bruise, intending on reproducing them on Jasper’s body.

I wasn’t sure how I was going to do that yet, but my other plans had been moving forward. There was no way he was done with his fuckery, and knowing him, it was only going to get worse. My renewed sense of urgency to implement my plans didn’t extend to starting to push Elliot away, be a bitch, and generally make him fall out of love with me.

He hadn’t repeated the words he’d uttered in front of his family and fire chief that day in the hospital. He didn’t need to. I felt them in every touch, every gaze, in the low timbre of his voice when he spoke to me.

It was agony, his love. Because it was pure and nice and made me feel complete and horrid at the same time. Even more so because I loved him back. With every part of my wretched soul.

My love for him was one of the only good things about me.

I hadn’t said the words. I never would. Because that would ensure Elliot fought for me, whatever I did. It would be the hook on his insides that made him refuse to believe whatever I had to do to convince him we were done.

As it was, I had almost entirely figured out my plan of attack in bringing down an international crime organization, yet I still didn’t know how to orchestrate a simple breakup.

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