Cover Me (Elite Force #1)(28)
Author: Catherine Mann

The memory of Ted and Madison staring up sightlessly through the ice slammed through his brain. He plowed a hand through his hair and wondered how to break this news to the woman staring at him intently from across the room. The woman who would be devastated when she found out the news. “Thanks for letting me know.”

So he could make damn sure Sunny didn’t take off on her own once that cash transfer came through.

“This isn’t just a courtesy call,” McCabe continued. “Since you’re involved, Special Agent Lasky with our OSI is working with local cops. We need for you both to come to base to look at some pictures, see if she recognizes any of the faces.”

His eyes raked over her protectively and he balked at the notion of exposing her to more violence, putting those images in her brain forever. She stared back at him curiously, her arms still around her dog’s neck, the blanket draped over her. He wanted to freeze this moment, because without a doubt, he knew in his gut that life was about to go to hell hard and fast.

And while he couldn’t protect her from she was about to see, no way was he letting her out of his sight.

Chapter 8

Misty tugged the zipper on her backpack as slowly as she could. Not that it made any difference. Her sister wasn’t going to walk through that kitchen door this morning. Sunny wasn’t going to insist she eat some whole grain tofu crap for breakfast so that Misty could fake fits of gagging.

It was time to leave. She had an appointment set up with a specialist. She couldn’t afford to wait any longer.

Her brother would take her. Still, she hated being a burden on her family, an adult woman still living with her brother and his family in their perfect house with gingham curtains and cast iron cookie molds decorating the walls.

Hugging the pack tightly to her empty stomach, she forced her eyes to stay well off the old upright piano against the far wall.

The floor vibrated under her feet, signaling the approach of someone entering through the mudroom, and for a second her heart sped up with optimism. A heartbeat later, before even turning, she realized the steps were too heavy, the vibrations too strong for someone her sister’s size. She only knew one person with just that gait.

Pivoting slowly—she still battled problems with inner-ear problems affecting her balance—she found exactly who she expected. Flynn Everett. The older of the Everett twins. The single one.

The one who’d had a crush on her since the ninth grade, when the teacher made them lab partners.

Silently—duh, when was anything in her life anything but silent anymore?—Flynn filled the doorway from the mudroom, wearing jeans and a yellow cable-knit sweater, his parka hanging open. His hair was a darker shade of blond these days, but just as thick.

Her fingers fisted at her side with the memory of the coarse strands gliding over her frantic hands while they made out in his truck. Sometimes he’d climbed inside her lilac purple bedroom in the middle of the night and they would make out. A couple of times they’d come so close to having sex. God, she’d loved him back then, with all her heart and hopes.

Until he’d cheated on her at the end of their senior year, when they’d been days away from graduation. Days away from having a future of their own. What a dumb ass Flynn had been to think anyone could get away with screwing around in this tiny, gossipy community. It was almost as if he’d wanted to be busted.

As if he’d wanted out of the relationship with her.

An unhealed ache settled in her heart. God, couldn’t he have just asked for his promise ring back?

Only weeks later, she’d caught meningitis and foolish, foolish girl that she’d been, she hadn’t wanted to live. Her sister had blamed the local hospital, but Misty knew she’d wanted to die. She’d let her illness progress too far, too fast, before telling her parents, because she’d simply wanted to curl up and let go.

But she knew better now. Sure she’d been hurt over Flynn’s defection, but they’d just been kids and he’d just been another boy trying to get laid. She had a fighting spirit these days and nothing he said could make up for that betrayal.

If he’d even meant the apology he poured out when he visited her in the clinic hospital, an apology she’d barely been able to register as her fever soared. He’d likely just felt guilty more than sorry. And soon after, she hadn’t been able to hear his apologies any longer. The guilt in his eyes, however, increased tenfold.

The thought that he might pursue her out of remorse and pity made her shudder in disgust even now. She’d drawn her boundaries fast back then and stuck to them over the years as their paths inevitably crossed at the gym, the grocery store… pretty much every day and everywhere in such a small town.

She planted her hands on her hips and stood proud in her kitchen, more than a little happy she wore a body-hugging turtleneck sweater. He’d always liked her in green, said it reminded him of summer. Damn.

“What are you doing here so early?” She formed each word carefully, determined not to let him feel sorry for her, praying her voice didn’t sound too strange.

“Sunny isn’t going to make it back in time to escort you down the mountain.” He walked closer, careful to face her, always vigilant about making it easier for her to read his lips.

His lips…

The first she’d kissed.

A mouth that had once explored every inch of her body, bringing her pleasure in every way possible without actually going all the way. Back then he’d had a mustache, not much of one, but enough to tickle her. She’d thought it was such a turn-on. But she’d been determined in those days to wait for marriage—only to have him screw her best friend. Former best friend. June had come crying to her, pretending she felt guilty, sobbing about how she just couldn’t stay silent and let Misty keep dating someone who would cheat on her.

He hadn’t just kissed her. He and June had impulsively had sex in his parents’ empty house.

Misty’s hand twisted around a strap on her backpack until her fingers numbed. She’d prayed so hard her friend was lying. Then she’d confronted Flynn and quickly read the guilt on his face. He hadn’t denied anything, only asked for forgiveness.

Four years had passed and looking at him still made her physically ill. And the irony of it all? She couldn’t turn away to hide her face while continuing the conversation.

“Flynn, are you trying to make me wait, too?” Part of her wondered if her sister had done this on purpose to delay her leaving town.