Fighting Redemption(21)

“Okay. I’ll be over soon,” she promised.

After hanging up, Fin changed out of her work clothes and into a pair of petite tailored shorts and the pretty pink knitted top that Ian had once said looked good on her. Grabbing her keys and sandals from the wardrobe, she called out, “Jake? I’m going out.”

“Where?” he yelled from his sprawled position on the couch.

She opened the front door and over her shoulder said, “Ian’s place.”

He started to get up. “Fin, you can’t—”

She shut the door quickly behind her. As much as she loved her brother, he needed to realise that Ian would never hurt her.

Arriving at his apartment, she knocked softly on the door. Ian opened it, his shuttered eyes roaming the length of her before he stepped aside.

“Come in.”

“Thanks,” she murmured.

She set her bag on the dining table and walked into the living room, sitting down on the wide, navy leather couch.

He scratched at the back of his head. “Drink?”

Fin nodded. “Please.”

After a moment he came out of the kitchen with a wine for her and a beer for himself and sat down beside her.

“So dinner was a bit of a fail,” he said, looking at her.

She nodded at that understatement. “I’m sorry, Ian. It got out of hand very quickly, and ended badly.”

Ian sighed deeply. “I’m not sure where we go from here, Fin. You’ve resisted me every step of the way. Maybe it’s time I cut you loose.”

“Cut me loose? What am I? A horse?” She set her wine on the glass coffee table with an angry clatter.

“Christ.” He ran a hand through his hair. “If you don’t want me, just say so. Stop dragging this out. I’m over it. I’m over …”

“Over me?”

His blue eyes searched her face. “I don’t think I ever really had you. Not all of you. There’s always been something missing.”

“Is this about work?”

“Part of it,” he conceded. “You’re always working. Always away on some excursion or some research expedition. What do you want from me, Fin? To sit around and wait for you for another six months?”

“Six months isn’t that long!” she burst out.

“But that’s what you said last time. And when you’re back, then what? You’re off to wherever to start on your thesis. Where do I fit in with all of that?”

Fin picked at the hem of her shorts. “I’m not ready to settle down. We’re both so young. We’ve got our whole lives ahead of us to do all that stuff.”

After a deep swallow of his drink, Ian set it down next to her wine. “Come here.”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him. Fin shifted on the couch until she was straddling his lap, and his hands came around to rest on her ass, his thumbs hooking into the waistband of her shorts.

“What do we do?”

She swallowed. “I don’t know.”

Resignation swept across Ian’s face and he closed his eyes. “I’ll wait. Six months, Fin. You come back and we’ll see how we feel then.” He opened his eyes. “You told me you loved me.”

“I did,” she whispered.

Ian leaned in, his lips a breath away from hers. “Then show me.”





It was after midnight when Ryan let himself through the front door of the little cottage. Seeing both Fin and Jake’s doors closed, he shuffled quietly down the hallway and tossed his bag on the bed. In the bathroom, he peeled off his army fatigues and stood under a hot shower.

Resting both hands against the cool tiles, he bent his head, letting the steaming water pound over his neck and back.

He’d had a shitload of rage to work out of his system. The training exercise couldn’t have come along at a better time. Ryan always, always, had control of his emotions, except when it came to Fin.

Every day he trained—how to crash a car properly, using explosives, climbing, roping, diving, parachuting, tracking. He could speak three different languages. He was taught how to save lives and taught how to kill at the same time. He could take a man out, quickly and silently, with his bare hands. He learned how to lock his emotions down, but when it came to Fin, none of it mattered. Seeing Ian get violent towards her had him losing control in a split-second.

Dead on his feet, he switched the shower off and stepped out, towelling himself dry half-heartedly. Tugging on a pair of sweatpants, he wandered into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and reached for a beer.

“You’re back.”

Ryan tried to smile but his heart wasn’t in it. Over his shoulder he offered a beer to Jake. “Yep.”

Jake took it and he grabbed another. Twisting the top off, he took a deep swallow as he shut the fridge door.

“Fin’s gone.”

He drew the beer away from his mouth. “What?” His voice was sharp. “Gone where?”

Jake moved to the couch and sat down. “Ian’s.”

“Motherf*cker,” he breathed. “Christ, Tanner. He threw a goddamn glass at her.”

“She says he didn’t—that he threw it at the cupboard.”

Ryan sat down in the armchair opposite and hung his head in his hand. “It was close enough. It could’ve hit her. He’s a goddamn cunt for treating her the way he does.”