Page 176 of Carrick
His fingers traced along my jaw with a gentleness that unraveled something deeper than fear. He didn’t just touch my skin—he steadied it.
“I’m not going anywhere, Bellamy,” he said. “You gave me your trust tonight. I’ll protect it with everything I have.”
I didn’t know how to answer, so I kissed him. Not to undo what passed between us, and not to ask for more. I kissed him because in that breathless, suspended moment, I believed him. I believed he meant every word—that I was safe, that he saw me, that whatever storm lived inside me didn’t scare him at all.
When I closed my eyes, it wasn’t from exhaustion. I let go. Between one heartbeat and the next, the knot in my chest loosened. My breath slowed. The tremor beneath my skin eased, quieted by something I didn’t need to name.
Carrick curled around me, chest pressing to my back, one arm tightening around my waist, his hand resting firm and warm over my stomach like a vow. He didn’t sleep. I felt his thumb moving in slow, steady circles just beneath my ribs, tracing calm into the places that still held fear. He held me that way for a long time—silent, grounded, entirely here.
And I let him.
“You okay?” he murmured, his voice a rasp of gravel and heat, brushed with a tenderness that felt dangerous comingfrom a man like him. It scraped against my ear like a promise—raw, unpolished, and meant only for me.
“Yeah,” I whispered, nestling back against him. “I think I’m actually… okay.”
He pressed a kiss to my shoulder, lingering there like he didn’t want to leave the skin. “I meant what I said,” he murmured. “You gave me your trust. I don’t take that lightly.”
“It wasn’t easy,” I breathed.
“I know.” His hand slid up, settling just below my heart. “But you did it, anyway.”
I turned toward him, catching his gaze in the dark. “I’ve never let anyone in like that before.”
He didn’t flinch. “You don’t have to,” he said. “Not unless they earn it. And I will.”
My throat burned, thick with everything I couldn’t say.
Carrick never said the wordlove.He didn’t need to. He spoke it in the way he undressed me without ever taking anything away. In the way he demanded all of me, yet met that surrender with his own. In the way he stood in the wreckage—unchanging, unflinching—when anyone else would’ve run. Love didn’t need a name when it lived in everything he did.
“I don’t want to lose you.”
“You won’t.” He said it like a vow carved in stone.
I pressed my forehead to his arm, breath softening as the weight of everything pulled me under. Carrick held me through the crash. Through the quiet and the ache that finally settled into peace. And just before sleep took me, I heard him whisper?—
“I’ve got you.”
33
Carrick
The shipping yardwas quiet as a cemetery as we pulled in.
I pulled my Charger in slowly, having doused the headlights well before pulling onto the property. Our tires crunched over poorly maintained asphalt like the grinding of brittle bones, every noise louder than it had any right to be. The shadows laid thick and suffocating under the overcast sky, but I was thankful for the cover. It felt right for what we were doing this evening.
Quinn sat beside me as I killed the engine. Rayden obviously wasn’t here yet, but that wasn’t surprising. We had shown up fifteen minutes prior to our agreed arrival time. We wanted the chance to observe the place before performing the handoff, to make sure we weren’t being set up. It’s not that we didn’t trust Rayden, but the people he worked for… Reconnaissance was of the utmost importance.
For a moment, neither of us moved. The dark on the other side of my windshield felt oppressive and watchful, like it was pressing in close to the glass, trying to find a way inside. I flexed my fingers over the steering wheel, trying to ease the tension that I already felt crawling down my arms and anchoring itself under my skin. I always felt this way before an op. A cold deepinside my gut, electricity dancing through my veins, and my brain trying to imagine all the ways things could go wrong.
Quinn sat quietly, eyes darting everywhere, assessing the situation. It felt too open, too exposed, and he could feel it too. There were shipping containers strewn about like legos tossed haphazardly by a toddler, obstructing lines of sight. Beyond those, buildings ringed us on almost every side, not close, but enough to make this shipping yard feel like an arena waiting for a fight to begin.
Quinn broke the silence first, speaking just above a whisper. “I can’t shake the feeling that something is off.”
I didn’t look at him. “Risky ops like this always feel that way. Stay sharp, eyes up, and stick to the plan. We get the flash drive, listen to whatever Rayden has to tell us, and we bounce. Make sure we’re not being followed. Wait for Rayden to send us the encryption key. That’s it. No mistakes, no problems.”
I felt Quinn nod more than saw it. “No mistakes, no problems.” He repeated, more to himself than to me. Sometimes I forgot that, even though we spent months together in the Military, Quinn hadn’t seen nearly as much action as myself and the rest of the Reapers had. Especially not in clandestine, high-risk situations like this. He might be leading this op, but we both knew who was more suited for this type of work.
As the pre-arranged time approached, we exited the vehicle to get into position. Gravel shifted under our boots, sharp and unforgiving. The metallic scent of oil, old freight, and the rot of neglect laced the air. Rusted fencing framed the perimeter like broken ribs, and the open doors on the shipping containers gaped like mouths frozen mid-scream.
