Shades of Gray (KGI #6)(43)

The edge in his voice rattled her. It wasn’t like Cole to sound so unhinged. Cole was either utterly focused on the task at hand or he was cracking jokes or hurling insults at his teammates, herself included.

It was a Cole she was familiar with and comfortable with.

But ever since the night they’d slept together, he’d become a different person. Or maybe it wasn’t that he’d become someone different. He was just someone she hadn’t recognized before now.

There was something possessive in his tone that nipped at her. She couldn’t decide whether to be annoyed or . . . Or what? Triumphant? She shook her head, which made her surroundings spin a bit as a result of the meds Donovan had administered.

She needed to stop all this because important conclusions couldn’t be reached when she was high as a kite.

“She’s going to be fine,” Donovan called back. “She kicked some ass and only has one measly bullet wound to show for it. It’s going to hurt like hell for a while and she’s going to be laid up until it heals, but she’s good.”

“Of course she kicked ass,” Cole said, a hint of impatience in his voice.

For some reason that confidence in his words—just the way he said it—warmed her in places that had been encased in ice for the last months.

Cole believed in her. He always had. He might give her the most shit of anyone else on her team, but he was also the first one to boast of her abilities. They had a long-running rivalry over who was the better shot, but P.J. knew it was all in fun. Cole respected her. He respected her position on the team. For that matter all her teammates did. Which was more than she could say for her S.W.A.T. team.

And yet, Cole and Steele . . . Dolphin, Baker, Renshaw . . . They weren’t her team anymore. She’d quit. She’d walked away. But here they were, risking their lives to save her ass.

Tears swam in her vision and she blinked rapidly, unwilling to give in to another emotional meltdown. She’d managed to remain detached for the last months. She’d switched off everything. No feelings. No memories. No fear and no pain. She couldn’t lose control now. Not when she was so close to achieving her objective.

Somehow she had to find a way to break away from her—no, not her—the team. Break away from the team and get to Jakarta in three weeks’ time.

Until she brought Carter Brumley down for good. Until that day, she couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t rest. She couldn’t relax even for a moment.

The thought of all those innocent little girls plus the countless other women they’d victimized haunted her. She knew what it was like to be one of them. For a very short time, she’d been a victim as well, and it was enough to convince her that she’d rather die than ever become one again.

CHAPTER 22

ODDLY enough, P.J. dreaded facing Cole more than she dreaded facing Steele. Steele would be pissed, yeah. He’d already gone on record saying what he thought of her quitting the team. And yes, she’d been a total coward for only going to Steele and not facing her entire team—and Cole.

She’d been barely aware when Cole stopped the vehicle several hours after they’d fled the scene of her crime. She’d slipped in and out of consciousness when Cole had carried her inside a musty-smelling house and settled her on a couch.

When he’d arranged cushions around her for comfort, he’d bumped her leg, causing a low moan to escape her mouth.

He’d pressed his lips to her brow and murmured soft words of apology and a firm command for her to rest. She’d retreated beyond the veil of the medication, embracing the opportunity to delay the talk she knew was inevitable.

Anyone with eyes and a brain could see that things were . . . tense . . . between her and Cole. They had only to look at the way he’d been around her and they’d instantly know that their relationship wasn’t as simple as teammate to teammate.

Former teammates.

It was a point she had to keep reminding herself of. She was no longer a part of KGI. No longer part of something that made her feel like she belonged.

She stared up at the ceiling, achy and wrung out from the medication. Her leg was throbbing and her skin felt clammy. When she turned her head to the side, she saw that the other members of her team had arrived.

Dolphin was propped in one of the small armchairs, his head tilted sideways, eyes closed. Across from him, Renshaw occupied the other chair and had his head straight back so he was staring upward. He was asleep too.

Guilt nagged at her. How many days or weeks had they gone without sleep because they were tracking her down? Or had they even been looking for her? If they were after Brumley, it stood to reason they’d have the same intel she’d gathered. Maybe she was alive thanks to nothing more than shit-ass luck.

She pushed herself upward and rotated so her legs fell over the side of the couch. Pain shot through her thigh. Spots dotted her vision and she nearly passed out. For several long seconds she sat there, sucking in huge mouthfuls of air. Her pulse hammered and the clammy feeling grew stronger.

She wiped at her brow, holding her palm over her forehead. It was then she realized she still had an IV attached to her arm and the bag was hanging above the couch on a hat rack.

She started to pry the tape away from her arm so she could remove the IV when her nape prickled.

“What the f**k, P.J.?”

She looked up to see Cole suddenly looming over her, a dark scowl on his face. Where had he come from? Her mouth went dry and her hand fell away from the tape. Cole immediately dropped down to one knee and refastened the tape over the port site.