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Griff scoffed uneasily. “It’s not like that. High stakes bring people together in the moment, but it fades.” Even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t true. Not with Jo.
Wyatt’s eyes glinted knowingly in the darkness. “When you find a woman like that, don’t let go.”
“Should I be taking advice from a Coastie who’s miles from the sea?” Griff asked. He’d spotted Wyatt’s US Coast Guard ink.
“Touché. Higher ups had their fill of me not following orders.” Wyatt’s gaze was clearly unrepentant. He turned to leave, footsteps muffled in the snow. “Stay sharp,” he tossed over his shoulder, before disappearing into the shadows.
Griff scanned the silent forest, senses hyper-alert. Alone with his thoughts, Jo consumed them. Wyatt was right—he’d been too hesitant. If he didn’t act, he’d lose her.
Climbing had kept him sane for so long, he’d imagined he’d be lost without it. It was the only thing that made him feel better, proved he was better than his dad, that he wouldn’t slip down the same slippery slope of alcohol and violence.
But he hadn’t climbed for months. And he was still here. He wasn’t drinking; he wasn’t beating the shit out of anyone, and he’d found a woman who made him feel amazing things he’d never felt before.
Maybe he’d been blind to what was in front of him all along.
Jo was nothing like his mother.
And for the first time in his adult life, it occurred to him. He was nothing like his dad.
He was his own man.
39
Jo was restlessly awake on a bunk when Wyatt snuck back into the house. Snuck was the perfect word. Despite his size Wyatt was silent, the only giveaway the splash of the tap as he ran himself a glass of water. There was a brief murmur of conversation with his dad before he crashed on the empty bunk below Sophie. Within minutes, his breathing slowed to the rhythm of sleep.
Jo’s mind raced like a juggernaut, sleep impossible. She pressed the side dial on her watch, illuminating the face in the pale green light. It was after four, almost dawn, right?
She swung her feet out from under the layers of comforter and wool blankets Sophie had provided, her sock clad feet still sensing the chill of the wooden floor as she made her way to the economic kitchen.
Ty was at the kitchen table, working under the muted glow of a small table lamp. Had he even been to bed yet? In front of him, he’d arranged an array of disassembled weapons. His scarred face was intent with concentration as he worked through them, checking and wiping with an oiled rag. The fused flesh on his face gave him an initially startling appearance, but he’d been nothing but kind to her since she and Griff had arrived.
“Hi.” She padded into the kitchen, her socked feet silent.
Ty looked up and wagged a finger at her. “It’s too early. You should be sleeping.” His presence dominated the room, yet also put Jo instantly at ease.
She rolled her shoulders. “I know. I just can’t settle. Knowing we have this information about the Carbon 45 and not being able to share it with the world… its driving me crazy. I can’t sleep till it’s out there.”
Ty squinted down the sights of the gun he was cleaning. “Maybe some tea would help?” He angled his head to the kitchen counter where a row of glass jars held tea bags.
“Thanks.” Grateful for the distraction, Jo picked a peppermint tea-bag and dropped it into a white mug before filling the steel kettle and placing it on the stove. She took a seat next to Ty and waited for the whistle. “You have some armory here.”
He grunted softly and looked straight at her. His eyes were startlingly astute and reflected a quiet wisdom. It was easy to understand why Sophie had fallen in love with this man. “Always knew it would come to this one day.”
“Really?”
“Pharmasyn did everything they could to take my Soph down with them. She walked clear, but their desperation made it obvious just how much they’d invested in the chip.” His head moved in a slow shake of regret. “I’ve lived the military. I know how their minds work. There’s no way they’re simply going to walk away from a weapon as potentially powerful as that. Eventually, they were going to collect.”
He snapped a barrel in place, checked the weapon’s sights. "That's why I ensured we prepared."
The kettle whistled, and Jo made her tea. She brought the mug to the table, letting the steam rise in lazy tendrils.
Ty polished metal with a soft yellow cloth. “Have to say I thought it would come sooner. Controlling a man’s mind and making him the weapon. You can’t get a more powerful weapon than that, can you?”
Luke. It made her heart clench to think of what he might have suffered before he died. “No. I guess not.”
She twisted the mug in her hands. The table was scarred with dinks and lines. How many meals and celebrations had they shared round this table with their three sons?
“I’m sorry about your brother.” His voice was subdued.
