On a sigh, Ryan turned in the middle of the living room and caught Mitch’s gaze. “Now do you see why I said you needed to tell her? It wouldn’t have come as such a shock if you’d at least prepped her a little.”
Mitch huffed out a laugh. But the sound held no humor, just a hot burn in the center of his chest, one that ignited a firestorm that felt like it was consuming every part of him. He knew things were pretty much finished with Simone, but if he’d held out any hope he could salvage a relationship with her daughter, that was dead and gone now. As soon as Simone discovered he was a Cypher, she wouldn’t let him within fifty yards of Shannon. “Thank you, Ryan. Thank you for everything you dug up and the sensitive way in which you presented it. Ever hear the phrase, ‘if you keep digging, you’ll dig your own grave?’ Well, you just dug mine. Remind me to return the favor some time.”
“Mitch, dammit,” Ryan sighed.
Mitch moved out from behind the island in the kitchen. Right now he needed a shower. Needed to be alone. Needed to think.
Ryan stepped in his path. “Hold up. I wasn’t trying to fuck things up for you.”
Mitch clenched his jaw, and his hand flexed into a fist at his side. “Well, you did.”
“These aren’t the kind of people you screw around with, Mitch. And contrary to what you think, I didn’t come here with all this to make things worse for you. I came because I’m worried. If they got to her husband, they can get to you, and regardless of how pissed you are at me right now, I don’t want anything to happen to you. I care about Simone, but I care about you more. You’re not just my best friend, you’re my brother, and while that might not mean much to you at the moment, it means everything to me.”
Mitch’s jaw tightened. The red haze that had slid over his vision retreated just a touch. Just enough so he didn’t plow his fist into Ryan’s jaw. But he wasn’t ready to get all touchy feely. He was too pissed for that. “I know what kind of people they are.”
“Then you know this isn’t a game. You’re in some serious shit here, Mitch. They’ll come after you because of her.”
Mitch knew that better than anyone. He didn’t need Ryan reminding him of that fact. He stepped around his brother in law. “I’ll be fine.”
“But you’re not fine,” Ryan said, looking after him as he headed for the stairs. “You haven’t been fine since you met her. What are you going to do?”
Mitch hesitated with one foot on the bottom step. What was he going to do? At this point there was only one thing left he could do. Only doing it meant stepping back into a world he never should have been a part of.
He pushed his feet up the stairs toward his bedroom. “I don’t know. Right now I don’t have a single fucking answer to anything.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Simone tossed the file Ryan had given her on her bed, closed the laptop on her lap, and raked her hands through her hair. She’d read the file ten times, had researched until her eyes hurt, and was still having trouble processing the information.
Steve had been a Cypher. He wasn’t an innocent victim. He’d known what he was getting himself into. And regardless of what had happened to him, whether he’d died of cancer or something more sinister—which she still didn’t totally believe—the angry truth was that he’d known the people he associated with would never truly leave them alone. He’d known what he was dragging her and their child into the moment he’d asked her to run away with him.
She shifted the laptop to the bed and rose, unable to sit anymore. Brushing the hair back from her face, she looked out at the darkening lake beyond her second floor window. Dusk was settling in, robbing the lake and trees and sky of color, turning everything to a drab gray chill she felt settle deep in her bones.
She hadn’t known Steve. Not the real him. That he could have kept something so big from her wasn’t just a blow to the sternum, it was a blast to her pride and the carefully constructed life she’d built for her and Shannon. But what really stung, what truly cut through her like a hot, sharp knife was the reality that she’d given up her life for someone she hadn’t even been in love with, all while the man she did love was suffering because she couldn’t be honest about her feelings.
Anger simmered under her skin, then turned to a bitter misery that sank into her bones when she thought of Mitch’s face the night she’d come back from DC and told him she didn’t love him. Of how angry he’d been last night, when she’d pulled away in that fire lookout after kissing him. Of the dozens of times over the last few months he’d told her he loved her, and she’d kissed him to shut him up or changed the subject entirely because she was too afraid of what might happen.
She closed her eyes, hating the truth. Hating that she couldn’t change it. It already had happened. He was in this nightmare. And if nothing else, she knew now he wasn’t getting away from it. If these people could get to Steve in the witness protection program, they could get to Mitch through her. And if there was ever anyone she should give up her life for, who deserved that kind of sacrifice, it was him.
One tiny burst of hope bubbled up through the murky darkness, forcing her eyes open. There was one way she could fix this. One way to make at least one small part of this right. Maybe she couldn’t protect him from what Steve had done, but pretending she didn’t care wasn’t working. There was a slim chance that if he knew how she felt, if he knew she wasn’t just trying to protect herself, that she could convince him to disappear like she’d tried to get him to do after his house had been destroyed. It was a long shot, but at this point, it was the only one she had left.
She opened the door quietly and peered out into the hall. The space was empty, but voices drifted up the stairs from the kitchen. Ryan’s, Kate’s, Kendrick’s, but no Mitch. Nerves humming, she moved quietly down the hall and stopped when she reached his bedroom door.
He could have left, but she doubted it. Ryan wouldn’t have let him leave knowing his life could be in danger. She lifted her hand to knock, then thought better of it. She didn’t want to give him any reason to tell her to get lost, and she didn’t need anyone downstairs knowing what she was about to do.
Her hand closed around the door handle, and she turned it. Quietly, she moved into his room and closed the door behind her.
The bedrooms were all similar, suites rather than simple guest rooms. Mitch’s room looked the same as hers but a little bigger—a king-size bed made of knotty pine, two matching nightstands and lamps, a dresser, and a flat-screen TV on the wall. But unlike her room, there was no half-packed suitcase, no clothes thrown across the bed, no sign he was planning to run. Like she was.
She closed the door at her back and looked around. The lights were off, only dwindling moonlight through the sliding glass doors that faced the lake illuminating the space. The bed was untouched, the room empty.
Her heart dropped, and she leaned back against the door, forcing back the defeat. He must have been downstairs after all. She could wait, but she didn’t know how long he’d be. And if he decided to leave before she had a chance to talk to him—
The sliding door across the room pulled open, and a burst of cool air whoosh in just before Mitch. Darkness and the hoodie over his head made it hard to see his face, but her breath caught when she saw the way his shoulders stiffened at the sight of her.
He tugged the hood of his sweatshirt off, turned and looked behind him, then pinned her with an irritated look, one she’d seen too many times over the last few days. “I think you have the wrong room.”