And it makes me so damn happy.
“How many?” I question after what feels like a minute.
His cheeks turn pink and he smiles sheepishly at me. “Nineteen blinks, fourteen breaths, and one big smile I haven’t seen in a long time.”
Tears well in my eyes before one spills out and streaks down my cheek. His eyes follow its path and he stares at it as it hangs from my jaw. With a shaky hand, he reaches out and touches it, wetting his fingertip. The breath I seemed to have been holding rushes out quickly and I jerk my eyes to his.
I can see it in his eyes. He craves to kiss me. To hold me and caress away my pain. But I don’t know if I can handle it. Each time he attempts to touch me in a way that is more than just friendly, I shy away.
I’m too fucked up for him now.
When I lean back his face falls, and with it, my heart plummets to the floor. I want to push through this thick wall in my head. To climb over it and into his warm, waiting arms. Why can’t I just get the fuck over it?
I rub my hand over my belly and vow that tomorrow I’ll call the therapist Dr. Daniels suggested. I need to get better for the three of us. This baby will enter this world in a happy, loving environment.
“Edgar Finn seems like a braggart. He seems the type to want to show others his handiwork. People like him are narcissistic,” I spit out in equal parts disgust of the monsters in this world and the lingering thought that War and I are still worlds apart. The latter my entire doing.
His eyes glaze over as he gets lost in thought. I watch with sick satisfaction as he rolls the pad of his finger and thumb together, smearing my tear over his flesh. My heart pumps with overwhelming joy that he seems obsessed over touching a part of me.
Just give yourself to him.
But then he snaps out of it, used to my constant denial, and swivels back around. His fingers fly over his keyboard like a man possessed. I chew on my lip and try not to burst into full on tears at not being able to be the woman he deserves.
“You’re a genius,” he mutters over his shoulder to me. “I was so fixated on his financials, I didn’t think about his house. Stark may not be able to get inside without a warrant, but we can get inside. He pays a monthly fee to Pacific Security each month. All I need to do is access their database and locate his account. A rich bastard like him is sure to have cameras on his property. Maybe we can find something.”
Disappointment fades away as I hurry to my feet and watch in awe over his shoulder as War flies through the programs with ease. He’s a natural born hacker and there’s not a firewall that’s impenetrable when it comes to him. I just wish he knew how to hack inside my mind and tear down the wall that divides us.
“Bingo,” he says with a satisfied growl.
Without thinking, I slide into his lap to get a closer look. His strong arms wrap around my waist and his lips find my neck. Hot, quick breaths tickle my flesh and my heart rate thumps to life for the first time in weeks. The feeling is exhilarating and I missed it so damn much.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he murmurs against my skin and then presses a kiss there. I want his kisses everywhere. All over me. Inside me. Owning and taking every inch of my broken being.
I’m about to completely give in to his eager touches when I freeze in his arms. I had momentarily zoned out but he’d just found something. Something important. Tugging away from his love that burns so bright it scalds me, I look up at the monitor. “Oh. My. God.”
Eight squares fill the screen. There’s no movement on six of them. Just empty rooms. But one reveals a room with several women huddled together on the floor, they seem to be comforting one another. It’s not that room that’s so terrifying though.
As if reading my mind, he releases my waist to reach for his mouse and then opens the eighth square to make the visual on that room full screen. There’s no audio but the visual is crystal clear.
Edgar Finn.
He stands next to a bed wearing nothing but a pair of pants. His chest heaves as he takes deep breaths. Other than the small movement he makes breathing, he’s otherwise unmoving and fixated on the girl on the bed. Her stomach and thighs have been crisscrossed with bleeding cuts. Something, a rag maybe, gags her mouth and she’s bound with an appendage tied to each post of the bed.
A bloody star fish.
Just waiting to be released back into the sea.
“You’ll bleed out all over my Persian rug and I’ll drag your ass outside to dump you in the goddamned ocean.”
But she’s not bleeding out all over his rug. The blood slowly seeps from her wounds and runs down, soaking the comforter beneath her. Her eyes look past him and straight into the camera.