Matt Archer: Redemption (8 page)

“You don’t need a sign to know that,” Aunt Julie said, her posture straight and proud. “You call me Badass Aunt Julie, and now I get to prove how well that nickname fits.”

A little part of me was pumping my fist, screaming, “Hell, yes!” A bigger part felt a growing fear that my cousin would lose at least one parent before we finished this fight.

And Uncle Mike must’ve felt it, too, from the way his fists were clenched as he glared at Jorge, then me, as if we were to blame for putting a knife in his wife’s hand. The glare wasn’t the usual Colonel Tannen cold stare. No, this one was angry and betrayed, like we’d failed him in the most fundamental way possible. A heaviness settled in my gut; this was a look I’d hoped never to see aimed at me. And now it was. That hurt worse than any wound I’d ever been given. Like a smack in the face from someone I loved, someone I would die for.

A man I’d spent my life trying to make proud.

Sick, tired and sore—cut deep from what I’d seen and been through today—I backed out of the room, never breaking eye contact with Uncle Mike.

When his expression faded to a confused misery, I didn’t know if it was because he fully realized what this meant for Julie, or because he hadn’t meant to saddle me with the blame. Either way, he couldn’t take it back now and I couldn’t take any more.

So I left.

* * *

“Matt, honey?” Mom called as we walked through the lobby of the Ritz Carlton. Given the ragtag nature of our group, we would’ve received stares from the guests anyway, but the pointing and whispers told me everyone here knew who we were. One more burden I didn’t feel like shouldering.

I hadn’t said a word to anyone since I left the operations room. Parker’s loss weighed even heavier knowing what it had caused. Mike had quietly kept trying to talk Julie out of accepting the knife. After two hours’ worth of arguments, she’d stopped calling him Colonel and had started calling him You Giant Ass. Even that seemed like my fault.

So now, heedless of Mom’s calls, of Mamie’s worried glances, of Ella’s steadfast protection during the ride to make sure everyone left me alone, I strode ahead. I was seconds away from losing it and I needed to stay together long enough to hit the elevator.

I punched the up button repeatedly, clutching my room card-key like it was a lifeline. Mom scurried from the front desk after me, but I needed to be alone. The elevator dinged and the doors opened. I jabbed the button for the twelfth floor, sagging in relief when the doors closed before Mom closed the distance between us. Shaking with fatigue, I sank into a crouch with my hand over my eyes.

Be easy, Matt. Be easy.

I forced myself to take a long, slow breath. Tink knew what I needed. I didn’t know when I started relying on her counsel so much, but in a way, I was glad. Being at odds with her took too much energy and I needed every spare bit focused on the tasks in front of me instead of wasted on drama.

When the elevator stopped, I stumbled to my room and hung the “do not disturb” sign on the doorknob first thing. That wouldn’t deter anybody for long, but maybe long enough.

My new BDUs weren’t as filthy as the remnants of my suit had been, but my body was still sweaty, bloody and tired. I needed to wash this day off of me, start over somehow.

I stripped everything off on my way to the bathroom, not really caring where my clothes landed, and went to the bathroom to start the shower. I’d get clean, then I’d sleep, then—and only then—I’d think. The shower made a calming white noise and the hot water warmed the room. In the isolation, I could let it all go, just for a minute.

Then I made the mistake of looking in the mirror.

The guy who stared back frightened me. Not because of the old scars and new wounds. Not because the eyes had seen too much and had a weariness I didn’t think would wear off.

No, he scared me because he resembled someone I knew, someone I hoped I’d never meet.

I’d seen a vision when I was barely fifteen, while waiting in the rainforest for monsters to come. I’d been terrified that night, about to piss myself, when Tink had given me a glimpse of some possible future. A future in which men rode across a desert to fight a dark army that stretched across the horizon.

And the man who led them was the same one staring at me now, down to the last detail, from the angular face to the angry dark blue eyes, to the stubble on my chin.

I looked away from the mirror.

* * *

I stood in the shower a long, long time—maybe half an hour—letting the water run down my back. It burned the scrapes I’d racked up during the fight, but I didn’t care. I was washing all the ugliness away, and it seemed right that it hurt. My eyes glazed over with tears, but I blinked to make them stop. I didn’t have the luxury of mourning. Tomorrow, the work would start again, and I had to be ready, both mentally and physically, for my part.

The idea wore me out and exhaustion made me clumsy as I stumbled out of the shower and dried off. I needed to rest, even if sleep meant nightmares, even if my stomach was a giant knot of pain.

I wrapped the towel around my waist and opened the door to my room.

Ella was sitting on my bed, waiting.

“Will talked the front desk into giving him an extra key. He just failed to tell them this wasn’t his room,” she said with a little smile.

She’d had a shower recently, too, because her hair was slightly damp and she had on fresh clothes. She looked beautiful and I was scared to talk, afraid of what I’d say. I’d thought I wanted to be alone. But that had been a lie.

I’d wanted to be alone with the right person, and the sight of her left me hanging by a thread.

Ella stood and took a tentative step toward me. “You’re not okay.”

I opened my mouth to tell her, sure, I was fine, but a shuddering breath came out instead, so I shook my head.

She reached out for my hands to pull me closer, and that was all it took to set me off. I dropped to my knees and wrapped my arms around her waist, burying my face against her shirt so she wouldn’t see how torn apart I was.

She seemed to know that I didn’t need her to talk. She stroked the back of my head while I breathed in and out, disoriented because I smelled citrus instead of vanilla. I knew it was from the hotel soap, but I missed the scent of her regular shampoo all the same.

After a few minutes, I pulled it together enough to stand. “Sorry.”

“For what?” Ella asked. “Being human?”

“Being a psycho. For running out on everyone. For getting you into this mess.”

She laid her hand against my cheek. “Psycho or not—and you’re not, no matter what CNN says—I love you. You’re hurting. It’s okay to lean on me every once in a while. I’m not here only to hold up posters. You do so much, but you need someone to watch over
you
. That’s my job. I’m here to be whatever you need, whenever you need it.”

I leaned down to touch my forehead to hers. “How’d I get so lucky?”

“I’d say the same thing,” she said. “I knew from the time you stuck up for me in math in ninth grade that you were something special, even before I knew about your job.”

“All that time?” I asked. “Seriously? And I was scared to ask you out for months after that.”

Her smile reached inside my chest and drove out the hurt. “I know. I kept waiting, then decided you only wanted to be friends. But when I figured out there was more to it, well, that’s why I kissed you that first time.”

That lock-in had been the first “best night of my life.” There were several more after that, and each time, Ella had been there. “I’m glad you convinced me to man up, because I couldn’t do this without you. I tried, and it didn’t work.”

“I’m glad we both figured that out and that Tink agreed,” she said.

I’m not so sure “agree” is the word I’d use, but she does have a point. You’re more focused when you have her to come home to.
Tink made a sound suspiciously like a yawn.
I need to recharge and, for your information, flight is not something I’ll be able maintain often, so save it for a really special occasion. I’ll tune back in tomorrow morning.

Then she was gone. I smiled; it took three years of butting heads, but I thought we finally understood each other.

“She putting up a fuss?” Ella asked.

“The opposite. She’s leaving us alone.”

“I might die of shock.” She trailed a finger from my collarbone down my chest to catch a drop of water I missed when drying off. “But I think I’ll save that for later. We have other plans while the hall monitor is gone.”

I held her close enough to feel her heart beating. “We do. And I hope to God the Army doesn’t need me for the next twelve hours, because I’m not answering the phone, the door, or texts until then.”

“Twelve hours, huh?” The way she said it made my whole body flush red hot. “You up for that?”

I remembered something I’d overheard Johnson say once. Losing someone close to you sometimes makes you want to curl up and hide. But sometimes, it makes you want to prove you’re alive, and right now I wanted to live. To forget the pain, even if it was just for today. In the morning, I’d be all business, but tonight I belonged to someone else.

“Yeah.” I tangled my fingers in her hair and whispered kisses along her jawbone. “I’m up for anything.”

Chapter Nine

“Do you think you ordered enough food for dinner?” Ella asked, coming out of the bathroom later that evening to find six trays of room service spread out across the bed.

“For me? Yes. Not sure what you’re going to eat.” I made a show of peeking under all the plate covers. “Oh, chocolate cake. That’s for you.”

She came over to take the cake from me, probably to make sure I wouldn’t change my mind and eat that, too. “There better be something more substantial in there, because I’m starving. And that’s your fault.”

I pinched my lips together; a smirk kept trying to break loose. Yeah, both of us working up an appetite was
definitely
my fault. “Okay, okay. One chicken sandwich with sweet potato fries, all for you.”

Ella snagged the plate, shaking her head. “But the fried chicken, the hamburger, the big salad, the enchiladas and the—what
is
that?”

“Salisbury steak.” I had a soft spot for Salisbury steak. “I wanted to be sure we took full advantage of Congressman Patrick’s generosity.”

“Well, in that case, order me another piece of cake,” she said, settling cross-legged at the foot of the bed with her sandwich. The fact that she was wearing my T-shirt—and little else—made me wonder if I had to eat right this second, or if food could wait another few hours.

Then I yawned, which totally ruined the leer.

“You need to sleep,” she said. “It’s getting late and you’ve had a hard day.”

I thought about protesting that suggestion, but I found it harder and harder to move my fork to my mouth. I managed to polish off the Salisbury steak and the burger before my eyelids decided to go on strike. I cleared the plates off the bed and crawled under the covers. Ella’s chuckle was the last thing I heard before drifting off.

“Matt!” Mamie screams, a sound that tears through me. The pain she has to be experiencing to scream like that …

Heart in my throat, I shout, “I’m coming! I’ll find you!”

But the dark surrounds me, and I can’t tell which direction to go. Each time I lift a foot, it snaps back to the floor, like I’m held by elastic bands.

A voice I know all too well whispers in the darkness, “We have her now. You’re too late—it’s hopeless.”

“Matt, wake up. Come on, open your eyes.” A hand shook my shoulder. “You’re having a bad dream. You need to wake up now.”

I came awake with a start to find Ella staring down at me, eyes wide with concern. Early morning light filtered through the curtains. I’d been out a long time.

“That was some nightmare,” she said. “Do you have them often?”

I rubbed a hand across my face, surprised—and kind of embarrassed—to find tears on my cheeks. That particular dream always made me feel like I’d run a marathon in cement shoes, but I’d never cried before. I knew why I had this time, though. Because deep down, I was starting to believe he was right.

It was hopeless.

“Want to talk about it?” Ella asked, laying a hand on my arm.

“No,” I said. “This one I have to handle alone.”

I could tell she didn’t like the answer, but she nodded and lay down again. I curled up next to her, hoping to get a little more sleep before the day started, but the dream wouldn’t leave my head. When Uncle Mike knocked to tell me everyone was meeting downstairs to go to the Pentagon, it was a relief to get up and turn on the lights.

* * *

I swept past the crowd waiting for me in the lobby. Saying goodbye to Ella for who knew how long had me pretty wrecked, and I didn’t want to be forced into conversation when I was barely hanging on. Leaving that part of my life behind hurt, so I’d told her not to see me off, that I couldn’t bear watching her and Penn sadly waving goodbye as our caravan pulled away.

Will was waiting in the backseat of one of the SUVs when I climbed in. He took one look at me, nodded, then stared out the window with a morose expression.

I wasn’t the only one having trouble saying goodbye.

“They’re going home this afternoon,” I said.

“Safer there,” he said. “Even if they’ll be grounded for the next two years.”

“It sucks to see them go, though.”

“Yeah, it does.” He sighed. “Penn punched me in the stomach before bursting into tears when I got ready to leave. I’ve never seen Destroyer cry before. Not once.”

Theirs was a complicated love affair, but there could be no doubt that they were as tight as Ella and I were. “Ella had a really hard time letting go. So did I.”

“Same here. Even after Penn punched me.” He smiled sadly. “I think it was her way of telling me she was mad I was leaving.”

That’s all either of us said the entire way to the Pentagon. The streets were nearly empty; martial law had been set the night before to deal with the search and rescue. We avoided any streets near the capital and made our way out of town without much trouble, passing checkpoints like magic as soon as they saw our IDs. Or our faces.