Steel Vengeance (Blackthorn Security #6)

Chapter 39

CHAPTER 39

S loane stared through the dirty windows of the fleabag motel, wishing she was anywhere but here. Blade didn’t trust the CIA, since they couldn’t be sure who was working with Matthew, and so he’d booked them into a dingy motel outside of town. “Just until we know the lay of the land,” he’d explained.

She knew it was because they were still trying to find Matthew. So far, he’d evaded capture, staying off the radar. He hadn’t used any of his credit cards, hadn’t gone home, hadn’t visited his ex-wife or his children.

“He knows what he’s doing,” Blade told her. “He was trained for this. Special ops, remember?”

“That was a long time ago,” she’d countered.

“It’s not something you ever forget.”

“How’s Stitch?” she asked. The good news was that he’d landed earlier that morning, but the bad news was he’d been taken into custody, and nobody had heard from him since.

“Pat met him at the airport and is arguing his case,” Blade said, reassuringly. “He’s a powerful man, with a lot of clout. If anyone can get Stitch out of this mess, he can.”

“I hope what I said helped,” she said. They’d been debriefed at the airport. Two men from the Agency had taken her into an interrogation room and questioned her for hours about her assignment, about Matthew, and about the shooting in Peshawar. They’d asked her about Stitch, or Vance, to use his real name, and wanted to know what part he’d played in exposing the former Ghost Company unit who were transporting heroine out of Afghanistan and into the United States.

“It will have. It back’s up what Pat will argue. He’s been undercover all this time, hunting down those responsible for the ambush in the valley where he lost half his unit. He infiltrated a local tribe, earning their trust, and when their village was destroyed, in an attempt to find him, he tracked Omari to Peshawar, where he met you.”

“But Omari wasn’t responsible for the ambush.”

“Doesn’t matter. Nobody knows what really happened out there.” His eyes were cold, and Sloane recalled he’d been team leader on that mission. “It was Taliban led, so it could have been.”

She knew it wasn’t, but the whole thing did kind of make sense. A covert op, and a classified, undercover mission sanctioned by his commanding officer at the time. She hoped it would work.

God, she longed to see him again, to hold him in her arms. The ache in her chest grew heavier with each passing minute. It was like her heart had been carved out, and the only thing that could fill the empty space was him. She hated feeling this way—vulnerable, desperate, unsure of what the future held. But after everything they’d been through, she couldn’t lie to herself anymore. She needed him.

That last night together had been more than just comfort. It had been raw, real, a promise of something more. She could still feel the way his lips had brushed against hers, slow at first, like he was afraid to cross that line, and then with all the pent-up emotion he’d been holding back. It had felt like a release, a breaking of all the tension that had built between them since the moment they met. His hands on her skin, the way he’d whispered her name like it was the only thing that mattered in the world. God, she’d felt alive in his arms, like she could breathe for the first time in weeks.

But now... now she was suffocating without him. The uncertainty was killing her.

She wondered if he felt the same way. He hadn’t said much, even then. But she saw it in his eyes. The way he’d looked at her, like he was memorizing every detail, like he didn’t want to forget her face. It had been more than just physical. She knew that. She’d felt it, deep down in her bones.

But there was so much she didn’t know—so much he hadn’t told her. His wife’s death still weighed heavily on him, she could see it in the way he sometimes closed off, retreating into his own mind.

Stitch was a man who carried his pain quietly, like a burden he didn’t think he deserved to let go of. But that night, for the first time, she’d seen him let a little of it go. He’d been there with her, fully, not as the haunted man who kept himself at arm’s length, but as someone who wanted to let her in. It hadn’t been perfect—it had been messy, intense, even a little awkward at first—but it was real. Real. And that’s what she clung to now.

She’d never been the type to believe in fairy tales or happily ever afters. Her life had taught her better. But this—what they had—felt like the beginning of something. Something that might just be worth fighting for.

If only they’d let him go.

The thought of him locked up, alone, waiting for bureaucrats to decide his fate—it made her stomach turn. Pat was doing everything he could, and she believed that. But what if it wasn’t enough? What if the government decided Stitch was too much of a liability? What if they buried him under red tape, locked him away, and she never saw him again? The idea of it was unbearable.

She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her forehead against the cold window. Please, let him come home . She didn’t care if it took weeks, or months—she just needed to know he’d be safe. That he’d be able to walk out of this mess and into her arms again. That they’d have a shot at a future.

Because she wanted that. She wanted a future with him. And it terrified her to admit it. After everything they’d been through, all the near-death experiences, the danger, the violence—it was this, the not knowing, that scared her the most. The idea that they might not get the chance to see what could have been.

She couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not after what they’d shared.

Sloane turned away from the window, pacing the small, dingy room. Her body hummed with nervous energy, and her heart raced with the fear of what could go wrong.

She’d never felt this way before—not about anyone. Not even Matthew had awakened her soul like Stitch had. It made her feel sick to her stomach thinking about how na?ve she’d been. How Matthew had played her, seducing her, recruiting her for a damned mission then sending her out there on her own. Her only job to report back.

Dispensable.

She thought about her last conversation with Stitch, the way he’d looked at her right before she boarded the plane. He hadn’t said the words, but they were there, unspoken between them. She’d felt them in his touch, in the way his lips lingered on hers for just a moment longer than necessary.

Stay safe, Sloane. I mean it. Matthew’s dangerous.

He hadn’t been talking about the danger she was in, though. She knew that now. He was talking about his own fear—his fear of losing her, of never seeing her again. She could see it in his eyes, even if he couldn’t bring himself to say it. He was still too wrapped up in his own pain, in the loss of his wife, to admit what was growing between them.

But she wasn’t going to let that stop her.

She loved him. And if she had to fight the entire damn government to get him back, she would. She wasn’t giving up. Not now. Not ever.

Blade had said Pat was powerful, that he had connections. But even those connections could only go so far. It was all up to the people in Washington now, to whether they saw Stitch as an asset or a liability.

Sloane wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the cold seeping through the room, and closed her eyes. All she could do now was wait.

Even if it was killing her.