He’d saved her, and almost gotten himself killed in the process. He’d involved his friends, putting them all at risk. How could she ask him, any of them, to do more?
She thought about her brother, and how much these people must have cared for him to do this for her. Wherever he was, she hoped he was proud, and as grateful as she was.
“Stay here, okay?” Boone said. He went to the living room, where Seth waited. She hadn’t even heard him walk back from the garage. Kate was with them, but when Christie glanced into the kitchen, she headed toward the table.
“Hey, you all right?”
“I think so.”
Kate sat down. She looked tired and anxious. Christie had the feeling this was harder for her than it was for Boone and Seth. Kate wasn’t a soldier. She’d clearly been involved in some horrible things, but the guys, they were used to all this covert stuff, trained for it until it had become second nature. Kate had been with the UN, and there was no way covering up dead bodies was part of that protocol.
“We’ll have to replace the carpet. We’ll remove it now, and we’ll have someone we can trust come in with a new one. You want the same thing?”
Christie sat back in her chair, laughter bubbling from somewhere deep. Carpet choices? Now? “Yeah, the same carpet will be fine.”
“Great. It’ll all be over soon. You’ll have your life back. That’s gotta feel good.”
“I don’t believe it. Not yet.”
“Sure,” Kate said. “That’s understandable.”
Christie leaned a little closer to her as the men carried the body bag through her kitchen. “Do you really think he was a spy?”
Kate shrugged. “Best to cross all the t’s and dot the i’s. None of us can afford to leave it like this. But for what it’s worth, I think he was obsessed with you. I heard him, and even over the speakers, there was a lot of twisted passion in his voice.”
“Yeah. I heard it, too.”
“There’s no way this was anything but self-defense. You’re not getting away with murder. Got that? You did good, and with any luck at all, you’ll be able to put all this behind you.”
Christie leaned back on her chair, suddenly so tired she could hardly hold her head upright.
“Why don’t you get some rest? We’ll take care of things out here.”
“Milo.”
“We’ve got it covered.” Kate stood up. “He’s going to be fine. And so are you.”
Christie wanted to believe her.
17
BOONE STOOD BY HER BED, watching Christie sleep. He’d swallowed a couple of aspirin, which had taken the edge off, but he still hurt, though not as much as looking at her. Christ, her mouth was open, her hair was a mess and she looked too pale and thin to deny the stress she’d been under, but he thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
This was it. Yeah, they still had to find out about her bank accounts, and make sure there were no complications over at the prick’s house, but it was over. He’d be leaving, going back to the business of scraping out a living and doing his damndest to out those bastards who’d tried to kill the team. Before this, before Christie, taking them down was all he cared about. Now he just wished he’d never been in the service at all.
Other men could look back at a woman as the great heartbreak of their life. For Boone, it was the army. He’d given the service his heart, his soul, his body. And it had betrayed him in every way a man can be betrayed.
Until he’d gone to Kosovo, he’d had an exemplary record. Delta had recruited him, and they’d competed with the SEALs to win him. He and Nate had gone head-to-head, and they’d kicked everyone else’s ass. It had been great.
It had gone to hell so quickly. One assignment. It had looked like a cakewalk up front. Then they’d met Tam, and she’d shown them exactly who they were working for. A government agency that was unconnected to the army or Delta Force, funded as an offshoot of the CIA. They had no compunction about breaking the law, about subverting the principles of the Constitution or international treaties. They’d turned Nate’s unit into assassins for profit, and lied with every word out of their corrupt mouths.
The moment of discovery had been their last free moment.
Boone had gone home, met his father in secret, hoping for counsel, for support. His dad, the Major, had slapped him across the face and told him not to come home again.
Since then, he’d lived every day as if it would be his last, and not particularly cared. Yeah, he wanted justice, but mostly he wanted to rest. He wanted to get a regular job, maybe doing some high-tech security, maybe open a store in a quiet part of Tennessee.