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Authors: Alana Albertson
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asshole.”
Vic motioned his hand toward me as if he was my fucking therapist. “So you are trying to tell me you have no feelings for her? At all?”
“That’s what I’m saying. I don’t know her, really. I mean, half the time she’s out of her mind crazy, detoxing. The other half she’s all moody and withdrawn. She’s hot, for sure, but I don’t have a clue who she is. I don't even think she knows who she is.”
“So you haven’t slept with her?” Kyle asked.
“Are you deaf? What the fuck did I just say? I mean, I fucking met her at a brothel and paid her to blow me. I seriously doubt she’s interested in any man after what she’s been through.”
Vic put his arm around me. “You’re a good man, Walsh. When you get back to San Diego, you guys can meet up again and see if you have any common ground.”
“Not going to happen. I don't want to remind her of this. I was one of her clients. She needs someone stable. And that's sure as hell not me."
“But you deserve to be happy. Not all girls are going to cheat on you like Marissa did.”
“Whatever, man. Your wife cheated on you too. I don’t know anyone in the Teams with a good marriage. And it’s not just about that. Annie is so messed up. She’s going to need a man who can be with her, take care of her, protect her. I can never be that man.”
Kyle pounded his beer and looked toward the guest quarters. “That’s the thing. You rescued her. You’ve been taking care of her. You’re already that man, whether you like it or not.”
Shit. I came up here to relax. Now I just wanted to jump overboard. Fucking idiots.
The three of us had spent so many hours together in silence, watching targets, waiting for action. They knew me better than I knew myself. I couldn’t deny the connection I had with Annie, the sense that we were meant to find each other. I wasn’t talking about some crappy romantic movie insta-love, just this intense feeling we were destined to be in each other’s lives. I saved her. That was enough for me.
The gentle waves rocked beneath me. I lay down under the stars and drifted to sleep.
13.
A few days later, I woke when I heard the thump of Annie throwing herself out of bed. I shot straight up, adrenaline pulsing through my veins and putting me on high alert. She rolled on the ground from her back to her feet and looked around, her hair and eyes wild from sleep and haze.
“I can't fucking do this, Pat. Her nails raked at the skin on her forearms. She rubbed a palm on her thigh. “I can't. I can't. It's too hard. You can take me back, I don't fucking care. I need it. It hurts.”
She crumpled to her knees and I winced at the sound of bone grating against the rough wood floor, the sound of her breathless sobs. I crouched beside her and laid a hand against her back that was clammy with sweat. Annie shrieked at my touch and cringed backwards.
“Don't fucking touch me!” The sound of her scream echoed off the walls of the room, rang in my ears. “Don't touch me. I don't want anyone to touch me.”
But I didn’t give up that easily.
She shivered. I wrapped her in a blanket and held her. She r esisted at first but relaxed in my arms. Her eyes seemed to roll back in her head for a second, which made me nervous, even though I’d done my research and knew that it was normal. I kissed her forehead and rocked her to sleep.
She had her rough days, days where she didn’t want to get out of bed, screaming, crying, and pleading for her next fix. But she got through it. It was brutal to watch her suffering, her body qui vering. But the heroin had finally left her body, like a ghost of her nightmare.
Tonight was our last night together. Tomorrow, I would walk her into the embassy when it opened, and then Kyle, Vic, and I would return to our navy carrier. To our life. To our next mission. Without her. Without Annie.
For our last night we had ported in Curaçao, though I wouldn’t let Annie get off the yacht and risk
Vic motioned his hand toward me as if he was my fucking therapist. “So you are trying to tell me you have no feelings for her? At all?”
“That’s what I’m saying. I don’t know her, really. I mean, half the time she’s out of her mind crazy, detoxing. The other half she’s all moody and withdrawn. She’s hot, for sure, but I don’t have a clue who she is. I don't even think she knows who she is.”
“So you haven’t slept with her?” Kyle asked.
“Are you deaf? What the fuck did I just say? I mean, I fucking met her at a brothel and paid her to blow me. I seriously doubt she’s interested in any man after what she’s been through.”
Vic put his arm around me. “You’re a good man, Walsh. When you get back to San Diego, you guys can meet up again and see if you have any common ground.”
“Not going to happen. I don't want to remind her of this. I was one of her clients. She needs someone stable. And that's sure as hell not me."
“But you deserve to be happy. Not all girls are going to cheat on you like Marissa did.”
“Whatever, man. Your wife cheated on you too. I don’t know anyone in the Teams with a good marriage. And it’s not just about that. Annie is so messed up. She’s going to need a man who can be with her, take care of her, protect her. I can never be that man.”
Kyle pounded his beer and looked toward the guest quarters. “That’s the thing. You rescued her. You’ve been taking care of her. You’re already that man, whether you like it or not.”
Shit. I came up here to relax. Now I just wanted to jump overboard. Fucking idiots.
The three of us had spent so many hours together in silence, watching targets, waiting for action. They knew me better than I knew myself. I couldn’t deny the connection I had with Annie, the sense that we were meant to find each other. I wasn’t talking about some crappy romantic movie insta-love, just this intense feeling we were destined to be in each other’s lives. I saved her. That was enough for me.
The gentle waves rocked beneath me. I lay down under the stars and drifted to sleep.
13.
A few days later, I woke when I heard the thump of Annie throwing herself out of bed. I shot straight up, adrenaline pulsing through my veins and putting me on high alert. She rolled on the ground from her back to her feet and looked around, her hair and eyes wild from sleep and haze.
“I can't fucking do this, Pat. Her nails raked at the skin on her forearms. She rubbed a palm on her thigh. “I can't. I can't. It's too hard. You can take me back, I don't fucking care. I need it. It hurts.”
She crumpled to her knees and I winced at the sound of bone grating against the rough wood floor, the sound of her breathless sobs. I crouched beside her and laid a hand against her back that was clammy with sweat. Annie shrieked at my touch and cringed backwards.
“Don't fucking touch me!” The sound of her scream echoed off the walls of the room, rang in my ears. “Don't touch me. I don't want anyone to touch me.”
But I didn’t give up that easily.
She shivered. I wrapped her in a blanket and held her. She r esisted at first but relaxed in my arms. Her eyes seemed to roll back in her head for a second, which made me nervous, even though I’d done my research and knew that it was normal. I kissed her forehead and rocked her to sleep.
She had her rough days, days where she didn’t want to get out of bed, screaming, crying, and pleading for her next fix. But she got through it. It was brutal to watch her suffering, her body qui vering. But the heroin had finally left her body, like a ghost of her nightmare.
Tonight was our last night together. Tomorrow, I would walk her into the embassy when it opened, and then Kyle, Vic, and I would return to our navy carrier. To our life. To our next mission. Without her. Without Annie.
For our last night we had ported in Curaçao, though I wouldn’t let Annie get off the yacht and risk
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