Page 47 of Broken Trust
His instincts were picking up a vibration in the house. Every time a new person came onboard, the dynamics changed.
Boots scuffed against tile, and he looked up.
Ash stepped into the kitchen, wearing a Navy logo T-shirt, sweats and a ball cap pulled low over his eyes. He already had a mug in hand. As he walked to the coffeemaker for a refill, he shot Mason a look. “You’re up late.”
He hadn’t glanced at a clock and had no idea how long he and Elin had been locked in each other’s arms. But since it was dark outside and the house was winding down for the night, he guessed it was pretty late.
“You’re up too,” Mason countered.
Ash smirked. “Can’t sleep. Figured I’d join the guys downstairs. They’ve been doing shooting drills again. You can hear thepopif you stand near the vent.”
“Yeah,” Mason said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I heard. Why aren’t you with them already?”
He shifted his shoulders in a gesture that wasn’t quite a shrug. “I had enough practice.”
He considered Ash’s statement but didn’t press. He might mean he aced his round or that he was sick of the guys’ jabs about being washed up. Ash was anything but.
They stood in companionable silence for a moment, the kind that came from years of shared chaos instead of just a few weeks since he joined Charlie.
Then Ash set his mug down and leaned against the counter. Finally, he spoke his mind. “Truth is, I walked out of target practice.”
Mason eyed him. “Why?”
“I asked for a new weapon. Sinner gave me a pencil.”
“That’s taking the pencil pusher joke a little far. What are you gonna do about it?” He liked Sinner. But he seemed to pick on Ash like it was personal.
Ash squared his shoulders. “I might have spent years behind a desk, or in the field recruiting men. I fuckingbuiltthis team, and most of the others in Blackout. And I’m on the outside.”
“Damn, bro.”
A crease appeared between Ash’s dark brows, sharp as a blade. “The transition is so much harder than I anticipated.”
Mason shook his head in commiseration. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to be in your shoes, man. But I do know that pencils can be weapons too.”
“Sure. You can write your resignation or stab someone with it.”
They both laughed, a hollow ring to the sound.
They fell into silence again, but this time there was a new ease in the lines of Ash’s body, as if finding a moment of camaraderie allowed him to let some of the teasing gone too far go.
Ash dumped out his mug and added it to the dishwasher. “Thanks for the talk.”
“Look for my therapy bill in your inbox.”
They shared a chuckle. When Ash left, Mason stayed where he was, mug cooling in his hands. He listened to the distant cracks of gunfire in the basement range, the house’s heartbeat.
He set the mug down and rubbed the back of his neck again, trying to work out the tension. The truth was, no matter how many times he took Elin to bed, no matter how many times their gazes connected in that amazing, familiar way…she was distant.
He realized that the advice he’d been giving Ash for weeks—work hard and he’d prove himself to the team—was advice he should take too.
In time, the team would accept Ash because he worked for it. But hadhe? Giving Elin orgasms that had her clinging to the high ceilings wasn’t enough. He had to win her heart.
He caught his reflection in the window—broad shoulders, stubble, a man who’d seen too much—and shook his head. “Keep trying,” he muttered. “That’s the mission now.”
He’d left her once to protect her. Now he’d spend the rest of his life showing her that loving her had never been the danger—losing her was.
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