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I hear him chuckle, his voice low and amused. “Ironic, with how I treated Jules when we first met. You’re an artist?”
Taylor replies, her voice light but sincere. “Intermittent fashionista. But when I landed in the country broke, I stayed at Château Bellemont in Paris, and being that far from home in a strange country? I felt safe. It really helps.” She pauses for a moment, then casually adds, “If you’re free sometime, maybe we could grab dinner.”
I’m on pins and needles, waiting for his response. What most people don’t know about Taylor is that her dad is a recovering alcoholic—twenty years sober now. She knows the terrain, the rough patches that lie ahead, and she’s never been one to back down from anything. It’s why we’re best friends.
“The most beautiful stained-glass windows are made from shattered glass,”she always says.
It’s not just a line. It’s how she sees the world.
When he hesitates, she quickly adds, “I was thinking of blowing off some steam. Arcade World. Vintage games, junk food, zero booze. And spanking you at Pac-Man.”
His smile spreads, confident and easy. “I’d love to.”
I nod off,the fray of nerves and sadness finally surrendering to sleep. And for the first time, I’m not running from something. I’m running toward it.
A new life. As me.
CHAPTER 48
Brian
I wipe my lips on my sleeve, still tasting the smudge of Angi’s lipstick, pretty sure nothing will get it off short of paint thinner.
Colby gives me a sharp look. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Trying to get this damn lipstick off. You got a belt sander?”
Angi’s quiet for once. Peaceful, even. It’s what happens when the high fades and you come crashing down. The aftermath of a storm, and the eerie calm before the next one.
The XO’s office is a symphony of rustling papers. He’s flipping through Angi’s file, shooting her glances like she’s a ticking time bomb. She’s passed out cold on the cot, handcuffed to it like they expect her to wake up swinging.
“Angelina Spenser,” he reads aloud, his voice clipped. “Arrested since eighteen. Coke, meth, possession, intent to sell.” The list goes on, the words tumbling out as if they don’t carry the weight they should. “Multiple suicide attempts. Recommended psych watch.” He pauses, staring at the scars on her wrists before his eyes flick back to me.
I clear my throat. We don’t need a full history lesson. “She’shere now. Three military flights, one helicopter, and a fight I won’t forget anytime soon. You asked for her. And here she is.”
Which, by the way, is more than I can say for my phone, currently sinking somewhere in the Atlantic after Angi came at me like a banshee for the third time. And Colby’s phone is so smashed to hell, I’m not sure why he’s still holding onto it.
“What more do you want?” Colby asks, his nerves frayed but with enough military bearing he’s holding it together.
The XO doesn’t flinch, his gaze like granite as it shifts between me, Colby, and finally lands on Angi, who’s starting to stir on the cot. “I need assurance she hasn’t compromised national security. When she wakes, we’ll interrogate her.”
“You’ll question her,” I snap. “With one of us in the room.”
His lips twitch, the barest hint of a concession. “Fine. We’ll question her. If and when we’re satisfied, she’ll be remanded back to civilian custody.” He leans back in his chair, expression unreadable. “Unfortunately, there’s a bench warrant out for her arrest.”
“Of course, there is.” Welcome to Angi’s world. One problem solved, and five more take its place.
Colby folds his arms, jaw set like stone. “Well, at least she’s consistent.”
“Is Captain Spenser cleared?” I ask, the words coming out more forcefully than I intended.
The XO sighs, rubbing his temple before letting his eyes fall back to the file. “Considering she took down half the MPs and all five-foot-three of her trashed a jeep on her way in...” He shuts the file with a decisive snap, the sound cutting through the room like a knife. His gaze meets mine. “If my little chat with your sister pans out, yes. You’re cleared, Captain Spenser.”
He stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “I’ve got a meeting with JAG to prepare for our ‘questioning’ session.” He throws up air quotes, his voice dripping with disdain. “I’ll be back.”
“Can I use your phone?”
He deadpans. “No.”
