Defenseless (Salvation, #5)(59)

The driver grabs my bag and tosses it in the trunk. I open the back door and gaze out at the water once more.

“Good-bye, Mark.” I blow a kiss toward the water.

It’s time to go home and get back to work.





Mark

Of all the stupid, irresponsible shit she could’ve done, this takes the cake. To go to the one person I told her could be behind this is unbelievable. My anger toward her is beyond anything I’ve ever felt before.

Then she has the balls to tell me I’m wrong, and of course, she told me her name without me asking. Fuck. If she only knew how close I was to telling her the three little words I never thought I’d say. She’d never believe me, because even I don’t understand it. It’s too soon, she’s too frustrating, and we can barely tolerate each other.

I could almost get past even that. I should’ve known Charlie would go behind my back. It’s my job to protect her, and then she destroys any chance of that. She’s like a f*cking maniac. Her mind never stops. She thinks she has it all figured out, even when half the time she doesn’t. She pushes me, and I shove her right back through the wall she erected.

I stand in the water, trying to piece together all the shit that keeps going on between us and the damn job. It’s a wonder I haven’t lost my mind already. Friends dead, friends shot, friends abducted—and then, of course, I’ve been messed up. Not to the extent of those bastards, but I had dark times.

How the hell does a woman like Charlie make her way into my world, and why do I let her? This is the woman who apparently is aware we were all supposed to die. She kept my friend hostage. She lies all the time, about everything, yet I love her—a lot. I need therapy.

After a while, I start to get cold. I make my way back to the shore and notice she’s gone. Of course she is. She wasn’t happy about being in the water to begin with. It’s fine. I’ll just try to thaw her frozen heart when I get to the house. I continue my trek and hear someone call my name.

“Mark!” I turn as my brother Garrett jogs over.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

He’s never out this way. Annika, his girlfriend, lives fifteen minutes from me, but I can count on one hand how many times he’s dropped by.

“I stopped up at the house. No one answered so I figured you were at the beach. Catch any waves?”

We both look at the water where the waves are calm and crap for surfing. “Umm, no.”

He lets out a low laugh. “How’ve you been?”

“Good,” I answer apprehensively. I’m not really sure what the hell the point of him being here is. “What’s up?”

Garrett rolls his head to the side and then releases a deep sigh. “I’ve been thinking about my life. Things obviously sucked in New York. I never should’ve married Emily, but I thought she was the one.”

“I hated her.”

“You hate everyone.”

“This is true.”

We both laugh. “Anyway, when I moved down here, I thought things would be different. I love where I work. Annika is great. But Erik mentioned he talked to you, then Mom asked me this morning why we don’t talk.”

“Doesn’t she always?” This doesn’t really surprise me. Mom learned early on I wasn’t a big sharer. She’s the world’s nosiest person, which means she has the world’s biggest mouth—my brother—to tell her what she needs to know. I didn’t realize my brother was a traitor, so I told him a lot, which meant my mom knew I had porn in my closet. That was the day Garrett got cut off. Don’t f*ck with a man’s porn.

“Yeah, but she knows you and I don’t talk like that.”

“Your doing.”

He huffs. “I think you remember shit a little differently.”

I look over at the house thinking now isn’t really the perfect time to get into this with him, but at the same time, Garrett doesn’t usually come down for a heart to heart. “I’m not trying to cut you off, but what did you come here for? Not that I don’t want to see you, I’m just curious.”

Garrett sits in the sand. So much for trying to talk through this mess with Charlie. “I want to know why we’re like this. What the hell did I ever do to you?”

“You got my Playboy mags taken.”

He looks at me as if I sprouted a second head. “Are you serious?”

“Dude, I had Pamela Anderson’s tits in my face to look at. Then you went and told Mom about it, and I had to try to remember it.”

“You’re f*cking kidding me.”

“Did you or did you not tell her?”

Garrett shakes his head. “I was eight! She offered me cookies to tell where you kept your magazines.”

“Traitor.”

“You broke my bike that day. I think that was payback.”

“Pffft,” I roll my eyes. “Tits or a bike?”

“This is the most insane conversation I’ve ever had.”

I slap him on the back. “That’s because you’re a * and have * friends. You prefer a bike over some fun bags. But seriously, it’s more than that. We just were never close. I don’t know if it’s because we have a few years difference or you were smarter than me and would rather study. I was more focused on ways to convince Claire Attar to suck my dick.”