Fragmented Read online

  Ethan didn’t know how long they stood like that, recovering—reveling, even. Finally, napkins were grabbed from the small drink platform that lined the wall and used for a quick and dirty cleanup, followed by another hard kiss, initiated by Ethan and met with surprise—and a favorable response—and they parted, Ethan disappearing into the crowd before he could regret any of it.

  *

  It was still dark out, just before sunrise, when Drea and Jem pulled up to the rental house on the beach.

  She was nervous, because she was meeting everyone for the first time, even though, technically, it wasn’t the first time.

  In a way, they were all getting a second chance … until—if—her memories returned.

  So when she walked inside behind Jem, everyone called out first to Jem and then stilled.

  “So, I guess Jem didn’t mention I was coming.”

  She glanced to him for confirmation and he gave a sheepish shrug and offered, “Easier to ask forgiveness than permission.”

  She wanted to kill him, but she was here now, and so she focused on the team members she’d gotten to know through their pictures. She stared at them for a long moment while she processed, put names to faces, the way she had when she ruminated over their pictures. There were hesitant smiles, and then there were hugs from Avery and Grace—real, true “so happy to see you” hugs. Dare and Gunner all came over, touched her shoulder or held out a hand to reintroduce themselves.

  They were really big. Jem-big. Like she was in a forest of tall, and she wasn’t exactly tiny herself.

  But she smiled and said hi. And thanked them for letting Jem come to get her. And then she choked up, and she saw tears in Grace’s eyes.

  Key was noticeably absent—she heard Jem ask Gunner and get a “no idea where he is” shrug.

  She was exhausted after fifteen minutes, excused herself to freshen up. When she closed the door of Jem’s room behind her, she lay on the bed with zero intention of going back out there.

  *

  When Drea went upstairs and they heard her door close, they stopped staring at him like he was out of his fucking mind and started treating him like he was.

  Nothing Jem hadn’t expected, which was exactly why he hadn’t called ahead.

  “We didn’t expect you tonight, or we’d have had things ready,” Grace started. “Breakfast at least. Clean sheets on her bed.”

  “It’s not even six in the morning. And it’s my bed,” Jem pointed out.

  “Are you staying in there with her?” Grace queried, and thankfully, Gunner broke in with “You did not fucking bring her here. I mean, what the fuck, man?”

  “Christ, Gunner, you’d think you’d be more accommodating to guests by now,” Jem grumbled.

  Gunner kept his voice low. “Come on, man—she’s too fragile for this shit.”

  “You don’t know that for sure. None of us do, including her,” Jem said. “She knows what happened to her when she was with us, okay? Between me and Carolina, we filled her in on everything.”

  “Knowing it and remembering it are two really different things,” Dare pointed out. “She looked at us like she didn’t know what we’d do. She’s terrified of us.”

  “She’s not.” Grace shook her head. “She’s worried about what we think of her. She’s scared we’re going to send her away. She’s scared of exactly what we’re doing right now.”

  That stopped them for a moment.

  “He could’ve given us some warning,” Dare said, motioning to Jem and, in response, Grace frowned at Dare. “Ah, come on, babe.”

  Gunner mumbled something under his breath about “stubborn crazy assholes.”

  Jem rolled his eyes. “Like I haven’t heard that one before. Get some new material.”

  Avery, who hadn’t said a word to anyone, hadn’t done anything since Drea came in except give her a big hug that was obviously so fraught with emotion for her, asked Jem, “Is Drea really coming with us?”

  “I want her to, yes. It’s the only way she’ll be safe.”

  Avery caught Jem in a partial hug and Gunner sighed, knowing he was outnumbered. Well, he had two out of five on his side now.

  “She seems tense,” Dare observed, relenting slightly. Or at least not actively arguing any longer.

  “Wouldn’t you be?” Jem asked. “She’s not tense with me when we’re alone. She’s really trying to remember you guys.”

  Gunner’s face twisted in sympathy. “Maybe spending time around us will help.”

  “Or maybe it’ll make things worse,” Key said from the doorway, where he’d just slipped in looking surprised to see everyone up and about.

  “Thanks for the positive attitude,” Jem muttered. “Where the fuck’ve you been?”

  “Lost track of time. Could ask the same of you,” Key shot back.

  “I’m tired,” Gunner announced. “Let’s all go back to bed until an indecent hour, then make a big brunch and lure Drea out of her room.”

  “It’s my room,” Jem grumbled, but no one was paying attention.

  Avery beamed up at Gunner and slowly, they all filtered toward the bedrooms.

  Except Jem, who stayed behind, because he wanted to talk to Key. Or maybe because Key was standing there too, no doubt wanting to talk to Jem. Even though they weren’t twins, they sometimes had that weird twin thing going on between them. They’d only been spending time together for the past year and a half, the first time since Key was eleven or so, but they’d picked up right where they’d left off.

  And Jem appreciated the hell out of that. He collapsed on the couch, and when Key followed suit, Jem caught a whiff of whiskey and cigarettes.

  At least someone was having a good time. “What the fuck am I going to do?” he asked his brother. “I didn’t want to leave her behind. I couldn’t.”

  Key nodded. Drawled, “Got a couple of options, brother,” and then he sat on the couch, put his heavily booted feet up on the coffee table and actually looked far more relaxed than Jem had seen him in a long time.

  Unlike Jem, who was wound more tightly than any man had a right to be. “Yeah? Why don’t you fill me in about those options?”

  “How about we just go talk to this Danny guy?”

  “And your version of talk would be …”

  Key grinned. “A fist down his throat.”

  “Not with the feds babysitting him. Although there was that one time in Tampa—”

  “We are not going down memory lane,” Key said firmly, then relented. “Although I definitely want to hear that story. But the other option is that we just take her with us.”

  “Hello? Why I brought her here, remember?”

  “I’m not talking just for this mission. I’m talking about beyond it. Whether she remembers or not. Keep her off the grid the way most of us are. She seems like she’d be down with that.”

  Drea might be, but could Jem justify taking away her freedom? Because ultimately that’s what he was doing. And when he expressed this concern to his brother, he simply said, “Like she’s free right now?” in that unerring, straight-shooting way he had.

  “Are any of us?” Jem asked.

  Key smiled. “As free as we can be. And it’s a hell of a lot better than what we had before.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Since Drea did pass out for the better part of the day, Jem had brought her a tray of brunchlike food. They’d managed to lure her out of the room for dinner, though, but mainly because Drea had been wide-awake at that point, and her stomach was growling at the good smells wafting from under the door. She’d wondered if they did that on purpose, then decided it didn’t matter, because they’d done it. And that was enough to make her ease out of the room and down the stairs to the table.

  Jem had put her next to him. Gunner had heaped a giant portion of gumbo. Grace had given her bread and Dare, a big glass of wine.

  Dinner talk had been light, but comfortable. It mainly revolved around the men sharing stories and Grace and Avery rolling their eye
s and giving small smiles of solidarity to Drea.

  It also consisted of giving Key shit, which Gunner started when he started ribbing Key by asking, “You got another hot date tonight?”

  “He came home in the wee hours of the morning,” Avery shared with Drea in a stage whisper, making Key roll his eyes.

  “You’ve got your date right there,” Key said, motioning to Avery. “Stop worrying about my sex life.”

  “Everyone worries about your sex life,” Grace said blithely, then glanced at Drea and shrugged. “They really do.”

  With Key’s looks—all-American, handsome Southern boy—Drea didn’t think he had a problem in the sex life department. But he was most definitely hiding something … and it seemed to be driving the other S8 members a bit nuts.

  Which was, she had to admit, kind of fun. For her, at least.

  In the end, they wouldn’t let her clean up. Which was good, because that wasn’t a job she liked much at all. She went upstairs and wondered if Jem would follow her, but she hadn’t spent long thinking about that, because the next thing she knew, she was blinking in the sunlight.

  The wine, the food, the stress … it had all contributed to an all-night deep sleep. Maybe the best one she’d had in a while.

  But there was no evidence that Jem had joined her.

  Before she could even get out of bed, there was a knock on the door, and Jem entered, carrying a large mug of coffee.

  She took a sip and practically groaned into the cup.

  He knows how you take your coffee.

  Such a small, insignificant thing that suddenly became very significant indeed.

  “Good?”

  “Very.” She was relaxed from sleep, but at the thought of having to face everyone again, she felt herself begin to get wound up again. She needed the release of energy that only constant movement would give her. “Do you think we could rent a treadmill or something?”

  Jem gazed at her. “I’ll do you one better. How about a run on the beach?”

  “You don’t have time for that.” She’d almost added, “To babysit me,” but she’d stopped herself in time.

  “We’ve got surveillance going. I wouldn’t offer if it was going to interfere with the mission.”

  She nodded, finished her coffee and went to wash up.

  Half an hour later, they were both in shorts and sneakers, her in a tank top and Jem bare-chested as they pounded the hard sand along the shoreline. They ran in tandem, and she was sure that Jem was just letting her keep up. He ran slightly ahead of her as if pacing her, but he was able to keep up a conversation throughout. And he didn’t sound winded at all.

  She was in good shape, but he was pushing her harder and faster than she normally ran. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t answering him. Just the sound of his voice, the lap of the water and the rush and roar of the waves were enough. Once again she realized how intoxicating freedom was, how necessary. Although this release was not tantamount to sex, it was at this moment the next best thing.

  As they ran, she lost track of the miles because they didn’t matter. She watched Jem’s back, enjoying the way his shoulders shifted, wondering how it would feel to run her hands over the muscles along his back. There were a few scars there, something that looked like a bullet wound as well, and yes, she wanted to trace all that and more with her tongue.

  She blamed it on the salt water. On finally being let out of her cage. Although that wasn’t fair to Carolina, whose house had been more like a luxury vacation than a cage. But now she was being given the opportunity to create an entirely new life for herself, to carve out a spot in Section 8 if she wanted. The only thing holding her back was her.

  She dropped her gaze to Jem’s calves, watching the way his muscles bunched and his powerful thighs sliced through the air as though he could do this forever. She pictured him running for his life, which he must’ve done at many points during his time in the military and the CIA. She wanted to ask if running for fun was actually fun for him, or if it brought up bad memories. Instead she concentrated on breathing and putting one foot in front of the other until she was drenched in sweat, her thighs cramping, unable to go another step.

  She slowed to a walk and Jem tossed a water bottle over his shoulder to her. She caught it and stopped to chug half the bottle. He continued walking, encouraging her to do the same. They were side by side now, an easy pace as her body adjusted and her pulse slowed from a race to a trot.

  “Nice job—you’re in good shape.”

  She smiled at Jem appreciatively. She’d worked hard to get back into shape, granted more mental than physical, but she’d let things slide before Jem and Section 8 came along, buried in her work and the constant shifts and the fear. Working out made her feel stronger, which in turn made her feel safer. Having Jem beside her certainly didn’t hurt that last feeling either.

  In the distance, she saw other joggers coming their way. Her belly tightened with the possible intrusion, until she realized who was approaching. Gunner was the first one she could identify—easy, of course, because his sleeveless shirt revealed his heavily tattooed arms. Next to him a blond ponytail bounced and she was smiling as she looked over at Gunner.

  They were happy. After all Avery had been through, she’d been able to find happiness. And Grace too, laughing as she ran barefoot along the surf, Dare chasing her. Grace didn’t look too distraught when Dare did catch her and threatened to dunk her into the cold water.

  She caught sight of Key behind them, at least a hundred yards back. Alone. She glanced over at Jem, wondering if he noticed as well.

  “Believe it or not, he’s happier than I’ve seen him in a long time,” Jem said to her.

  So, yes, he’d noticed. “Was he ever serious with anyone?”

  “A girl back on the bayou, from what I heard. But that was another lifetime ago.”

  “Maybe not for Key.” She’d spoken quietly, almost more to herself, but Jem’s head jerked her way.

  “Maybe not,” he agreed.

  Chapter Twelve

  They were back at the house, alone for the moment. Drea took a long drink from the bottle of water that Jem handed her, and watched him do the same.

  Because she couldn’t stop watching him.

  It appeared that he might be having the same trouble with her, and that gave her no small spark of pride. Enough to pull her T-shirt off and remain in her sports bra.

  Jem was staring at her sleeve of tattoos. It wasn’t exactly where she’d wanted him staring, but it was a start.

  “When did you get those done?” he asked.

  “In the Army. Med school. Post-Danny,” she said. “These are good memories.”

  “And you remember getting them.”

  “Yes.”

  Jem sighed. “I know what you went through to try to get your memories back.”

  She stared down at her arm, remembering what that year of recovery that was now behind her had been like. She’d done that staring-at-her-tattoos thing daily for the first several weeks. Maybe longer. The sleeve startled her less each time these days. At first, she hadn’t believed someone hadn’t held her down against her will and done them—those were the darkest days, when she’d called out for Danny repeatedly, hoping he’d save her. She’d liked Carolina, but she’d simply wanted to go home, and at that point in time in her memory, home was still in the small house in upstate New York, where she lived with Danny and Danny’s father. Where they’d threatened her mother the one time she came to try to pick up Drea.

  “Is this because of my mother?” Drea remembered demanding of Carolina at one point. “Did she send you to rescue me? Because I’m never going back there.”

  “And you never have to.”

  Drea had calmed down considerably after that. Now she told Jem, “You don’t know—you weren’t there …”

  “They were taped.”

  Jem’s voice was so dark and full of pain that it stopped her dead in her tracks. “What was taped?”

 
“Everything—all your sessions with Carolina and the shrinks—but only at first. Once you got your memories back of everything but your time with me and S8 …”

  He trailed off, and appeared to brace himself. In truth, she did feel like hitting him. But she also felt like hugging him. “Jem—”

  “I know it was wrong.” His voice sounded hollow, and he put some distance between them, as if he knew what she was thinking about doing and he didn’t want any kind of contact. “I knew it, but I had to see it. I couldn’t let you suffer alone.”

  “You didn’t leave me alone—you left me in the best possible hands.”

  “No. Those would’ve been my hands.”

  “You had work to do.”

  He shook his head, almost as if he was having an argument with himself. “That shouldn’t win.”

  “The people you work with … they’re your family, Jem.”

  He nodded, his lips pressed into a grim line. “You were so hurt. So fucking scared. I left you, the way I left Key. I’ve never forgiven myself for that, so I’m not even going to pretend it can happen with you.”

  She didn’t know what to say, knew it was pointless to tell him that he was self-flagellating, that he was wrong. Perception unchallenged becomes reality, and Jem’s reality was that he hurt the people he was supposed to save.

  She’d have to find a way to change his reality.

  *

  Another two days passed and the team got quieter and more focused. Drea knew the situation was urgent, but they’d been treating it like it wasn’t … mainly because of her. She knew that, figured that they didn’t want to worry her. But whenever she walked into a room, they had their heads together, or they were poring over maps.

  There was tension that had nothing to do with her. There were phone calls too, which left everyone jumpy.

  She avoided them as much as possible, leaving them to their own devices. Because there wasn’t anything she could add to the situation, nothing she could do to help. All she could do was think of the terrified young girl, waiting to be rescued while Drea was free to run on the beach and eat dinner and sleep in a comfortable bed.