The Risks We Take Duet Box Set

68. Cooper

COOPER

W ell, that fucking backfired.

I’m on edge, watching the curves of Carys’s body before she disappears through the bathroom door. The dimples above her ass wink at me as she goes. Damn . She’s the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. She always will be.

When the door clicks shut behind her, I finish getting dressed and head for the kitchen, needing a jolt of caffeine and maybe another cold shower.

It’s hard to believe we slept as late as we did.

It’s almost noon, but I guess we needed it.

I know I did.

Why does everything look different after a solid night’s sleep?

Once I figure out the fancy-ass coffee maker, I stand there, staring at it while it brews, as if I could make the damn thing work faster. This shiny silver equipment probably cost more than some people’s car payments but was still grinding the coffee beans after what felt like a century passed.

I blame my twin sister for my coffee addiction.

I’ve just poured a cup when the front door opens, and Emerson walks through it, with Rook holding the baby in a car seat behind her. “Uh... hey guys. I didn’t know you were coming home this morning.”

Emerson doesn’t say anything as she walks into the kitchen and grabs the coffee out of my hands before drinking half of it. “They don’t let you sleep in that stupid place. Every time Elodie would sleep, a nurse would come in to check on me and wake her up. I can’t take it anymore. I’m done. I need a gallon of coffee and forty-eight hours of sleep.” She thinks about that for a second, then adds, “Maybe not in that order.”

Then she walks away.

Specifically, up the damn stairs, while Rook and I stand in place, not sure what just happened.

As if on cue, the tiny little human in the carrier stretches small arms—covered in long white sleeves with pink polka dots and weird-looking little mitten things—over her head. She lets out a wail I wouldn’t think could come out of something that small.

Rook drops the overnight bag from his shoulder to the floor and swings the carrier on top of the island between the two of us as we stare at the crying baby. She sounds like a baby dinosaur. And trust me, thanks to my sister-in-law’s little brother, I know exactly what that sounds like.

Carys flies into the room. “What the hell is wrong with you two?” She unstraps Elodie from the torture device she’s in and brings her up to her shoulder as she sways back and forth, shushing her gently. “Where’s Emerson?”

I don’t answer, so she turns to Rook. “Did you bring her home?”

With petrified eyes, he nods. “Yeah. She yelled at me to get her the hell out of the hospital.” He shrugs his shoulder. “Not gonna lie. She scared me a little.”

“Well, at least she was having some strong emotions. Yesterday, she was in a fog.” Carys grabs the bag from the floor and shuffles through it, looking for something. “How was she? Other than wanting to leave? Did she show any interest in Elodie?”

She must find what she was looking for because she pulls a can of formula from the bag and smiles. “Jackpot.”

“Emerson was changing the baby’s diaper when I got there. She’d just signed her discharge papers.” Rook eyes Elodie like a suicide bomber as Carys places her in his arms. “What the hell, Carys?”

“Support her head,” she tells him as she adjusts his hold. “There you go.” She turns back to the counter and grabs the formula. “She’s hungry. Just give me a minute.”

“Carys,” Rook growls as Elodie’s face turns into a tomato before she lets out a loud grunt, followed by a smell that could clear a football stadium.

Carys and I both take a step back, and Rook’s eyes grow ten times in size. “Take her back. She exploded.” And she did. Moisture is soaking through the polka dots on her back.

Carys giggles and takes a step back. “Come on, soldier boy. You can’t handle a little baby poop?”

This shit’s so funny, I don’t bother correcting her, but Rook is losing his patience. “It’s sailor, not soldier. And I don’t clean up baby shit.”

“Oh,” Carys laughs harder. “And I should because I’m a girl?”

“Jesus Christ.” Emerson storms down the steps, having changed into one of Linc’s shirts and stretchy black pants. “Give me my daughter.” She takes her from Rook’s hands. “She’s the size of one of your big, fat hands, Rook. Seriously.” She rolls her eyes, then points to the bag. “CC, can you grab that bag?”

Carys nods, then her wide eyes dance between Rook and me as Emerson takes Elodie upstairs, mumbling about who’s the bigger baby.

“Pretty sure she’s talking about you, Rook.” Carys pats his chest before she darts up the stairs with the bottle and the bag.

Rook waits until both girls are out of sight before he steps behind the counter and washes his hands. “How can such a little body produce such a foul fucking smell?” He grabs a mug and fills it with coffee. “I’ve got news.”

“Well, do you want to tell me what it is, or am I supposed to guess?”

He lays the flash drive on the counter. “The terrorist group Axel was working with... They didn’t just kidnap those women. They’re trafficking them. There’s payment information, sale information. Spreadsheets full of names and wire information.”

“What the fuck was Axe doing with it? Why would anyone give that kind of information to a Navy SEAL? Why did they trust him?” Why did we trust him?

“That’s what we need to figure out, brother. I told Ford to meet us here later. He said he wanted to give Jessie some time to sleep before he came. He’s scared to let her out of his sight. But we’ve got to figure out what we want to do with this information.” He finishes his coffee, washes the mug, and places it on a towel next to the sink.

“What choice do we have? We’ve got to give whatever we find out over to the Navy.” Axel’s AWOL. What the hell else would we even do with it?

“Phoenix International specializes in putting an end to human trafficking.” He lowers his voice, then crosses the room to go outside, and I follow. “They aren’t constrained by the letter of the law the way you or I would be.”

Fuck me .

I haven’t told him yet.

Ford knows I was medically discharged. But I’d bet my last dollar, he’d shown me the respect to let me tell Rook myself. “Yeah, man. About that.”

Rook turns around and crosses his arms over his chest. “Swear to God, Sinclair, if you’re going to turn into some Pollyanna and try to tell me you won’t even consider that there are other channels we should think about, I’m gonna lose my shit.”

“That’s not it.” I run my hand through my hair, stalling. “Damn. This is hard.”

“Spit it out,” he snaps, getting annoyed. Probably thought I was going to say something shitty about the company his brothers built.

“I was medically discharged before I left Germany. I’ve already gone to base and filled out the final paperwork. The Navy’s done with me.” My head pounds, thinking about it. “Ten percent loss of vision.” I shrug, trying to play down my despair. “Mine wasn’t perfect to start with, so combined, it’s too much for Uncle Sam.”

“Fuucckk... Coop, man. That sucks. I can’t believe... I’m sorry.” Rook’s searching for the right words, but there are none. Not for this. Not for guys like us.

“Yeah. So, I’m fine with handling this however we decide. I just want it handled. I want Axel to pay for everything he did.” For everything.

“He will, brother. We’ll make him pay.” Rook throws an arm around me and pounds my back. “For Linc.”

I agree, “For Linc.”