Wounded Courage (Lucky Thirteen) (2 page)

The first few hours here had largely been about getting my wounds treated. I felt like a trussed up mummy. My wrists had been bandaged. I had rope burn so bad on my wrists that I’d cut into my skin and made it bleed. I blamed Rene for that, for not dying when I wanted him to. How he’d managed to hold out for so long with a hole in his chest like that. I could barely manage putting weight on my leg. Adrenaline was a funny thing.

The rest had been smaller nicks and bruises and scratches. My thighs and knees had bad gravel burn where Rene had dragged me back but once we’d gotten them cleaned, it wasn’t too bad. They were wrapped anyway, and they had given me a change of clothes—paper scrubs—to wear instead. I would have killed for a bra right then.

At least I was bandaged, and I had an ice pack to my face to help reduce the swelling on my cheek and eye where Rene had punched me. And the time alone gave me the opportunity to think about Alex. I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for him, to have his own family gun him down like that.

But it was like no one was allowed to speak to me. The corpsman had been mostly silent, though he was nice enough. My brother had vanished. Actually, he’d been the most silent on the chopper ride, and the subsequent walk through the elaborate tunnel system that had me completely turned around until I’d almost passed out. Back on the grounds of Alex’s house, I’d thought I’d seen the questions he wanted answers to. But nothing. Maybe he’d given up on me.

After all, I’d left home three years ago, and I’d left my school and the exchange program I’d been enrolled in almost a year ago. I hadn’t seen any of my family in that time. And I hadn’t even spoken to my brother since he graduated BUD/S nearly two years ago. It had been longer than that for Eamon Murphy. I couldn’t remember why I didn’t speak to him at their graduation. I didn’t recall even seeing him.

I’d been alone for a long while now. I wasn’t sure how long anymore. I sat at the metal table, in the chair, waiting. They were waiting too. They were watching me. The big mirrored window and the cameras in each corner of the room were proof of that. And I could feel their eyes on me, particularly Eamon Murphy’s, just because the intensity of his gaze always had the same effect on me. 

This facility didn’t seem like a regular government facility. It didn’t have that feel. It was dark and dreary, all kinds of secretive nooks all over the place. If my brother hadn’t been here, I’d have sworn they were all full of shit. I also knew we weren’t back in the States yet, which meant I was still in South America, maybe still in Aruguay.

I was so tired. I laid my head on the table, using my arm as a pillow. I was no longer safe anywhere. Not after this. Even though my brother was here, somewhere, I didn’t feel safety. I was a target. Simon Giroux would come for me. He’d never stop. Not him. Giroux had a long memory… and he had people everywhere. As soon as Alex’s will turned up and Giroux found out what we—I—had on him, I’d be in real trouble and not even bad-ass SEALs could keep me safe from that.

The loud, echoing clang of the door signaled someone’s entrance. I lifted my head quickly, too quickly, regretting it as my vision swam. Two men entered, one of them my brother. The other was Murphy, with the icy blue eyes that haunted me since I was a child.

Neither wore their Navy uniforms, which surprised me. They should have been, I thought. Maybe they didn’t wear the uniforms when they were out of the country. Who really knew how they worked?

Not that I could complain about the change. I had a good view of Murphy’s upper body, something I’d always had a thing for since his kickboxing days with my brother. His brown tee stretched across his chest like a canvas. This man was lethally gorgeous. I hadn’t had much of a chance to see him before. The tactical gear they had worn hid many of his best features. Like the broad shoulders. The rock hard abs even his t-shirt couldn’t hide. The finely sculpted biceps.

He had a square jaw lined with day-old stubble. Raven-colored, shortly-cropped hair sharply contrasted the lightness of his eyes. His height was intimidating. He towered over my brother even, which meant he was over six feet tall. Gorgeous, but terrifying. There was a singularly frightening vibe this man put off. And yet, my body couldn’t decide whether I should run like hell or be turned on. But it was Murphy, which meant he’d never hurt me.

“You’re feeling better?” Chris asked as he sat in the chair across from me. No emotion showed on his face. Nothing to even betray that he had feelings at all. Murphy stayed behind my brother, standing, his hands clasped in front of him, only inches from a 9mm pistol. My brother used to quiz me on handguns, but it had been years since then. I didn’t remember much of it anymore. I felt like a decade had passed me by since I’d seen my family. I was only twenty-four, and yet, I felt so tired and rundown, old beyond my years.

“The corpsman was… helpful,” I replied evenly.

Murphy sat down beside my brother and clasped his hands in front of him on the table. It was nerve-wracking, seeing as they weren’t saying a whole lot and neither were they acting like this was a happy family reunion. I didn’t blame them for that, but it would have been nice to get a hug from my brother.

“Chris, what’s going on? That guy outside glares daggers at me every time I open the door.”

“We just have some questions for you.” Chris didn’t look at me. “Answer to the best of your ability, and we can see about making you more comfortable later.”

Comfortable. They were going to keep me there. And on top of that, my brother was interrogating me. Wasn’t there some kind of protocol that said this wasn’t okay? The professional tone, the stiff back. The lack of emotion. He didn’t trust me. That was okay. I didn’t trust him either. Not with my secrets. And certainly not with Alex’s.

“State your name.”

“You know my name.”

Chris lifted his eyes to mine. His silvery eyes were flat, dull. “For the record, please.”

Okay. I could play that game too. “Addison Hardy.”

“With your middle name.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Chris—”

“Answer the question.” There was a stranger sitting in front of me. I stared at him, but he didn’t budge, didn’t even blink. I glanced beside him, but Murphy was in the same mode. His face was impassable. I might as well have been a perfect stranger.

“Addison Eleanor Hardy.”

“How do you know Alex Giroux?”

I hesitated. Until I’d seen Devyn at the house, my relationship with Alex had always been something good. I’d loved him, adored him. And he’d lied to me. I still didn’t understand why he didn’t tell me Devyn was there, or why she had been brought there. I sure as hell wasn’t going to talk to his sister about it. She was a crazy bitch.

“Addison.”

I glanced up at Chris, meeting his eyes. So cold. It was like I didn’t know him at all. “What?”

“How do you know Alex Giroux?”

Alex and my first date had been drinks at this fancy place in Paris. I couldn’t even remember the name of it anymore. I’d been on vacation from school and the girls and I had decided to take a trip to Paris. I’d met him by chance.

 “I had a… relationship with him.” The blush crept up over my cheeks as I felt Murphy’s eyes on me. I didn’t dare look at him. That was the guy I’d always wanted growing up.

“What is the nature of your relationship with Alex Giroux?” Murphy asked.

I refused to look at Murphy. It was embarrassing, though I supposed it shouldn’t have been. I wasn’t a nun. I had a right to seek out a relationship with other guys. He’d certainly never been interested.

“He was my boyfriend,” I said quietly. Admitting it out loud hurt. Alex had been a wonderful new addition to my life… right up until I found out everything. Who Alex was, what he wanted from me. Alex’d been stressed, scared, and with good reason. One didn’t just go against the Giroux family, even when one was a member of it.

“For how long?” Murphy again. My face burned and it shouldn’t have. I was a damn adult. I lifted my eyes in a defiant glare and met his straight on.

“About a year. I moved in last December.”

“Why?” Chris asked. They were starting to gang up on me, that same thing they’d done when we were kids. I doubted they even realized they were doing it. Some things never changed.

“He told me that I was in danger and wanted to protect me.”

“From who?”

“From his family.” Silence followed that statement. Chris wrote on his notepad, line after line. He didn’t look at me. Minutes passed and he kept writing. Finally, I just couldn’t take it. “Chris? Please talk to me. I need you to talk to me.”

Chris stopped writing and lifted his eyes to mine. “Addison, I don’t know what to say to you right now. You’re the last person I expected to see. So… all I can do is ask these questions and hope I find answers.” Just the sound of dejection in his voice forced fresh tears to the surface. But I glanced up, and Murphy was watching me. I didn’t want to cry in front of him. Not again.

“What were you doing at Giroux’s house?”

“I live—lived—there.” I sighed and added, “I told you. It’s complicated.”

“I’m listening,” he said. “Because I’m really interested to know why my sister was in an arms dealer’s home, playing house with him.” His barely leashed anger made me shiver. We were twins, but we were rare in that our birthdays actually fell on different days. He’d been born fifteen minutes before me, and maybe because of that, Chris had always assumed the older brother role with me. I was the screw up of the family, the one that needed babysitting and looking after.

“I… “ I stopped and shook my head.

“Why were they holding you?” Holding me? Really, I hadn’t been in any danger until Marie and Rene showed up. Rene had never liked me. He’d been waiting for the perfect moment to come after me. And Marie, well, she’d hated everything since her husband was killed.

“I told you. I wasn’t a prisoner there.”

“Tell me again.” Chris demanded.

“I lived there!” I screamed at him, the frustration boiling over. The words poured from my mouth. Silence followed that declaration, even though I’d already told them once. “I lived there with my boyfriend. That’s what people do when they like each other. Not that you would ever know that.”

More silence. Chris wrote things on the legal pad in front of him. I wanted to rip that damn pad from his hands and throw it across the room.

“What do Mom and Dad know about your absence?”

My throat clogged with a painful lump. I’d avoided thinking of our parents. They were quite happily living their lives in Oak Creek, far from the bustle of city life. “My absence? I was in school, Chris. I just didn’t tell them that I left. They don’t know about Alex. I couldn’t tell them. He wouldn’t allow it because it wasn’t safe, that if I told them they would be targets too. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“Did he kidnap you?”

“No.”

“Did he force you to leave San Diego?”

“No.”

“Did he get you pregnant?”

“No! God, Chris!”

“I’m trying to understand here!”

“No, you’re not. You’re interrogating me!”

He shoved the chair back and stood. Murphy stood too, as calm as ever as Chris placed his palms on the table, and leaned in toward me, his grey eyes flashing with anger. “I’m trying to figure out how my fucking sister ended up in a criminal’s home halfway across the world from where she’s supposed to be!”

I shrunk down in my seat, and tightened my arms around myself. My ribs ached. My face throbbed. My leg pulsed with pain. My heart hurt, both from the accusations and the sudden feeling that I missed my family.

He must have seen that in me. He froze, his eyes scanning over me. That’s when Murphy put his hand on Chris’s shoulder. “Chris, why don’t we take a break? We’re all a little emotional here.”

The soft timbre of his voice set me at ease. Chris nodded at the man. “I know, I know.” He cleared his throat and rolled his neck. I heard a couple of pops. “Addison, are you hungry?”

Food. Now that was something I hadn’t given thought to in hours. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d eaten. I nodded, because I did not trust myself to speak.

Chris pinched the bridge of his nose and then blew out a breath. “Okay. We’ll take a breather, and I’ll get you something from the mess.” He glanced at Murphy. “Why don’t you read over what I’ve got there, Murph?”

He headed for the door. I didn’t want him to leave angry. He was still my brother, and I loved him regardless of the situation.

“Chris?”

He stiffened and stopped, but didn’t turn around.

“I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you. I was so scared of you getting hurt if I did.”

He still didn’t turn. His fists balled tightly at his sides. Without turning, he said, “You’re safe here, Addy. I promise.” Then he left, the door clanging shut behind him. I watched the door for a few seconds before I turned back to the guy he’d left in the room with me. The one who made my heart double-time and my insides turn to jelly.

~*~*~

I turned to face Murphy. He sat down in the chair my brother vacated. My eyes were drawn to him as his muscles flexed, lethal grace in every movement he made. He made me hyper aware of my body. My cheeks heated, the stupid blush flooding me as he studied my face.

He moved like a weapon, honed to perfection. But it was those piercing eyes that intimidated me the most. He glanced down at the notepad my brother had left. His eyes moved as he read, but gave no indication of the subject matter written on it.

“How’ve you been?” I spoke first. I was always good at that. Murphy wasn’t really a talker. I was always the one who had to break the silence.

“Good. You know, when I’m not having to rescue my best friend’s little sister.” His lip quirked upward on one side. That was as close as Murphy got to a smile.

“He’s only older by fifteen minutes. I’m hardly his little sister. It was an ongoing argument we’d had over the years. Mostly, he just liked to tease me about it.

“You guys have different birthdays.”

“I was born at 12:02. That doesn’t count.”

The corner of his mouth ticked upward in an amused smirk. God, that was sexy. So were the long eyelashes that would make any girl jealous. Every little muscle on his arms was visible, which created a longing in me that I hadn’t felt in a long time, even with Alex. So different from the scrawny boy I’d crushed on as a teenager. He was two years my senior, and at the time, the body he’d had then appealed to my young fifteen year old self.