Page 40 of The Last Call Home
And then he’s gone, leaving me in the dust of everything we didn’t say.
I stare at the empty space where he stood, hands on my hips like that might anchor me, even as my body thrums with a tension that’s got nothing to do with caffeine withdrawal and everything to do with the way his voice lingers in my skin.
My mother warned me about men like them.The ones who leave you needing, wondering, spiraling.But she never told me what to do when part of you wants to chase them down and demand answers—and the other part just wants to find out what else they sound like when they’re not using words.
Fuck.
I need a cold shower.
And a lie I can believe in.
ChapterFourteen
Cassian
“What doyou mean I’m babysitting Atlas?”I growl, low and annoyed, as Finnegan Gil and Derek Farrow—owners of Crait Quantum Shield, senders of pain—update me like I didn’t have other things I planned to do with my life besides adult daycare and ghost-chasing.
“You’re his backup,” Finnegan corrects, voice cool as ever, like assigning me to clean up their disaster file is no big deal.“We’re sending you all the information about Henrietta.The woman who’s working with him at the parlor and passing as his wife.”
“Okay, I can deal with that.”A fake marriage?At least it’s not another body to bury.Yet.
“The Syndicate might be involved,” Finnegan continues like he’s ordering a side of fries with his meal.“We could take care of a few people while this is happening.”
“Have you made contact with the other asset?”Derek asks.
I don’t even try to hide the scowl pulling at my mouth.I should’ve asked for a phone call and not a video call.“You mean Malerick?”His name tastes like something I shouldn’t say out loud.“Please tell me the doctor is just a physician.Because I wouldn’t trust her with a weapon unless it comes with a five-second delay and a foam tip.”
One of them snorts.I don’t care which.
“I’m not kidding here.”
“She’s just the medic in the area,” Finnegan confirms, and for a breath, my blood pressure thanks him.“Though it’d be nice if you could keep an eye on her too.She’s too close to the Timberbridge family—even when she likes to deny it—and I have this gut feeling the Hollow Syndicate has something against them.”
“That’s fucking perfect,” I mutter, throwing my head back against the chair.“So you’ve got an asset with enemies on-site.That’s exactly how I pictured my quiet new life—surveillance, potential shootouts, and playing bodyguard to the guy who’s supposed to be in charge.Joy.”
Finn grunts, sounding more irritated than apologetic.“Look, I didn’t know his family was a target.I’m still not even sure they are.But by the time things started to unravel, it was too late to pull him out clean.”
“Have you discussed it with him?”I ask because I know damn well they didn’t.
“No.Do you think it’s necessary?”
“How the fuck would I know?”It slips out faster than it should, rougher than I intend.Defensive.Too telling.
There’s a pause.
“You two were partners in the FBI,” Derek reminds me like I need the goddamn refresher.“That’s why we thought you’d be a good fit for this op.It’s why you decided to open a bar and not even use an alias, right?”
I could lie.Pretend it was a convenience.Say it was strategy because he’s my buddy.But at this point, it’s probably better if they hear it from me before shit gets worse.
“I did it because I might want to settle here,” I confess, dragging the words out like they might burn less if I say them slowly.“Not because of Malerick.Though maybe you should’ve disclosed the full fucking deck before suggesting this mission.”
“Is there a problem?”Derek asks, tone too casual for a question that tight.Like he’s baiting me.Like he already knows the answer and just wants to hear how I’ll approach it.
I glance away, eyes skimming over nothing.I could say no.I could bury it the way I’ve buried everything else.But I’m already neck-deep in this thing, and I sure as hell can’t protect Mal if I keep pretending nothing ever happened between us.
“Let’s just say Mal and I were more than partners,” I admit, voice low, lips pressed into something between regret and resentment.“We were in a poly relationship for a while.”
That’s the clean version.The one that skips past how I loved him too much and still walked away.How he needed to be with Rachel—or so I thought.How I let him go without even giving him the courtesy of a goodbye—just left the Bureau like a fucking coward with a suitcase full of grief and my pride duct-taped together.
