Whispers in the Dark (KGI #4)(82)

He suddenly snapped his lips shut as if he knew he was babbling. Her heart squeezed a little and she wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him to her as she stared at the creation he’d begun.

“Are you building it yourself?”

“Yeah. That’s why there isn’t much done. It was something to do. Something to occupy my time and give me some time to think about what I was going to do. It sounds like an excuse, but I felt like I was waiting.”

“For what?” she asked softly.

He turned in her arms to stare down at her. “You. I was waiting for you.”

He touched her hair and trailed his fingers through the strands, gathering them and then letting go. Then he glanced back up at the house and she could literally feel his nervousness grow with every breath.

“Can you picture yourself here, Shea? Could you live here with me?”

Her lips parted in surprise. Not so much that he’d imagine them being together. She had a pretty good idea of how committed he was to the idea of them having a future together. But it still seemed so…nebulous. Not real. No matter how much they talked about it or he scowled and grew angry at her reservations.

But now it seemed so final. And it was hard to picture herself living a fairy tale existence in a beautiful home with a man who loved her when her sister was out there somewhere and Shea couldn’t be sure she’d ever see her again.

She felt guilty for even thinking of being so damn happy when she couldn’t guarantee the same for Grace.

The longer she went without responding, the more nervous he grew, and she realized that her hesitancy was giving him all the wrong ideas. Her heart throbbed just a bit as she picked up the threads from his mind. He worried the house wasn’t good enough for her. That he wasn’t good enough for her. That he was too damaged. That he couldn’t make her happy.

She slipped back into his arms and wrapped herself around him until he was surrounded by her. Then she leaned up on tiptoe so she could reach his mouth. She touched his cheek, directing him downward, and kissed him softly.

“The house is perfect. I can’t imagine a more beautiful place.”

“But can you see yourself here? With me?” he asked gruffly.

She smiled. “I can see myself anywhere you are, Nathan.”

His relief was palpable. Then he smiled. “Wait here just a second. There’s something I want to show you.”

GARRETT stared at the screen and rewound the footage to start just after the flashbang grenade exploded and the intruders entered the house behind Nathan and Shea’s flight to the panic room.

Ethan came in, and Garrett held up a hand in absent greeting before returning his attention back to the screen.

It had bugged him the entire night before. He hadn’t been able to sleep for replaying the images in his head. Something was wrong, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. So he watched it again, studying each frame, looking for what was making his internal alarm beep like a mo-fo.

Donovan and Ethan came to stand beside Garrett and stared up at the screen.

“What’s up, G?” Donovan asked. “You’ve been watching the same few seconds of tape for the last fifteen minutes.”

Garrett frowned and then hit the keyboard to pause on the front man. “There. Look at that, Van. See his hand? Can you zoom in on that?”

Donovan shoved him over and then typed a rapid succession of commands. The screen capture zoomed on the screen and then the resolution sharpened.

“Holy f**k,” Garrett whispered. His gut knotted and his pulse started pounding like a jackhammer. He wasn’t wrong about this. He wasn’t goddamn wrong about this. And if he wasn’t wrong, then they were in some deep shit without hip waders.

Sam stalked over, Steele on his heels. “What’s going on?”

Swanny sauntered up behind Steele and looked on with interest.

Garrett gestured toward the image on the monitor. “Take a look at his hand. You recognize that? I remember it from when we were down in Del Rio, when things went to shit with Sophie. Kyle Phillips led a black ops team that Resnick provided. That signal. It’s different. I remember thinking it was like they had their own language and f**k the Marines, even though, hey, they’re Marines, right?”

Sam stared hard at the screen, his features frozen. Then his eyes narrowed in fury. “Zoom in, Van. On his left hand. Ring finger.”

Garrett glanced at Sam in confusion and then back at Donovan, who was already furiously tapping the keyboard.

The man wore black gloves, but when Van zoomed all the way in and cleaned up the image, it looked very much like the tip of his ring finger was missing. The glove tip was flatter there and not defined like the other fingers.

“Son of a bitch. Son of a bitch!” Donovan swore.

“What the hell is going on?” Ethan demanded. “Will someone tell me what the f**k I’m missing out on here?”

“It’s Kyle Phillips,” Steele bit out. “He led the team that assisted us in Del Rio. One of Resnick’s pets if I’m not mistaken. He’s missing the tip of his left ring finger.”

Sam’s lips curled into a snarl, his eyes blazed with rage. “What the f**k is Resnick’s man doing in Shea Peterson’s home?”

Garrett and Donovan looked at each other at the same time. “Get Nathan and Shea back in here now,” Garrett barked.