Page 116 of Finding Eve
Jesus. His emotions were all over the fucking place.
Not a situation he was used to finding himself in—ever.
He was an operative for Christ’s sake. Emotion had been trained out of him. Feelings beaten down by war and conflict. Buried beneath layer after layer of the shit he’d seen and done.
But right now.
This very second.
Adam would give his left testicle to be on that plane with the people he loved.
His secure phone vibrated. Notification of an incoming text message. He pried his gaze off the shrinking jet, and hoping Eve had reached out, he pulled his phone from his pocket.
Disappointment rocked him even though Gray’s message made him smile.
She’s mad as hell. I like her a lot. Now get your fucking ass home, dickhead. Love you.
CHAPTERFORTY-FOUR
Ready to bustout of her skin, Eve had never been on such an emotional rollercoaster in her life. Angry with Adam, her muscles vibrated with the urge to commit violence.
Unfortunately, the only suitable target for her irrational need to hit something was about five hundred miles away and six hundred feet down.
The vice around her heart tightened, increasing the pressure in her chest. The second time she’d been separated from Adam tonight, she registered his absence in every microinch of her body.
He’d almost died because of her.
Tears welled, and her vision blurred.
She squeezed her eyes shut, and the final minutes of Bryan’s life assaulted her with horrifying images. She shoved them away. She couldn’t think about her stepbrother. Couldn’t think about the judge. Or her close call with Vonn. Not yet. If she did, she’d break apart, start to cry, and never stop.
Exhaustion rode her hard, and she pressed her temple to the cool window. The hum of the jet’s engines quieted the riot inside her, and she let the white noise fill her empty spaces. Numbness descended, and she embraced the blanket of protection the retreat provided.
In this state, she didn’t have to feel anything.
No anger. No guilt. No remorse. No sorrow.
She drifted, and Adam came to her. She felt his hands. Smelled his skin. Heard his voice.
Despite the physical distance between them—he soothed her—and she responded in body, heart, and soul. He’d claimed her. In action and word, he’d made his intentions clear, and he wasn’t a man who made false promises.
Nope.
She belonged to him.
All she had to do now was figure out what that meant.
The leather chair beside her groaned under the weight of the large body settling into it. “You okay?” Doc asked, handing her a bottle of water and an energy bar.
He wasn’t asking about her physical health, and she wasn’t ready to talk about the rest, so she deflected with a nod. “I’m good. How about you? Any muscle soreness? Residual aches and pains?”
“Nah. Got a couple of bruises. No big.” He twisted his wedding ring around his finger, and curiosity got the better of her.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” She jammed the plastic bottle between her leg and the armrest of the seat and tore open the granola wrapper.
“Sure.”
“You’re married, right?”
