Damian knocked on Paige’s apartment door, a suitcase in one hand and a pizza in the other. The curtains in the window beside the door shifted when Paige looked out, and then the door swung open. “What are you doing here? We don’t have to leave for the airport for another three hours.”
“I brought dinner. I hope you haven’t already eaten.”
“No, actually. I just finished packing.” She stepped aside to let him in.
Damian led the way into the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I just got cheese.”
“That’s great, actually.” Paige retrieved two paper plates from her cabinet.
“What is your favorite kind of pizza?” Damian asked, eager for any conversation that wasn’t about their mission.
“Pineapple.”
“Just pineapple?”
She opened the box and pulled out a slice. “I know. Everyone always thinks I’m weird.”
“Well, yeah. Most people at least add ham or Canadian bacon to their pineapple pizza.”
“But I don’t really like ham or Canadian bacon.”
Damian chuckled. He took a slice for himself and settled into a chair in her kitchen. They chatted comfortably over dinner, both of them choosing to stay on safe topics that didn’t have anything to do with the task they were about to undertake. It wasn’t until the leftover pizza was passed along to the next-door neighbor that the topic turned professional.
“Did Kel arrange for a car to take us to the airport?” Paige asked.
“Yeah. A taxi is going to pick us up here at nine thirty. You don’t care if I leave my truck parked here while we’re gone, do you?”
“No, that’s fine,” Paige said.
Damian glanced down at his watch. They had almost two more hours until they needed to leave and he struggled against the abundance of nervous energy that had built up inside him throughout the day. Hoping for a distraction, he asked, “Did you have any other plans for tonight?”
“Just unpacking boxes . . . or pacing around my apartment, pretending I’m not nervous.”
“Any chance I might be able to distract you while we’re waiting?” Damian asked.
She looked a little wary. “Maybe. What did you have in mind?”
“Come with me to the range. I can teach you how to shoot and show you guns aren’t as bad as you might think.”
Paige instantly took a step away from him. “I can’t.”
Damian saw the absolute terror on her face, and he found a sudden sense of clarity. Paige didn’t just dislike guns; something in her past was causing her to truly fear them. He studied her for a moment, searching for the right words to put her at ease once more. Then he realized maybe he should take the direct approach he had seen her take so often.
“What happened?” he asked. “Why do guns scare you so much?”
She kept her eyes on his, and he could almost see the internal debate going on in her mind. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them. Then he took her hand in his. “Just tell me. I said last night I wanted to get to know you better. Let’s start here.”
Still, she wavered, and he found himself analyzing what he knew of her. “Does this have anything to do with why you left nursing?”
“No, it has more to do with how I got into nursing in the first place.”
Taking her response as a positive cue, he tugged on her hand and led her into the living room so they could sit together on the couch. She settled down beside him and still seemed to hesitate.
“Talk to me,” Damian said, shifting to face her. “What can it hurt?”
* * *
What can it hurt? Paige repeated Damian’s question in her mind. Just the thought of that day her sophomore year of high school caused her stomach to clench and made her yearn to go back and erase the images. Yet, she also knew that if she kept hiding from her past, she would never truly be free of it.
So many times she had encouraged others to face their fears, but she often struggled to take her own advice. Not once since leaving high school had she trusted anyone with her past. But knowing she had to try, she let the memories come. “There was a shooting at my next-door neighbor’s house when I was in high school,” she began, not sure how much she could reveal or even how much Damian really wanted to hear.
“What happened?”
“My friend Ellie came over, her arm bleeding. I found out later that her older brother had cut her with his hunting knife when she ran outside.”
Damian didn’t ask for more details. He waited patiently, holding her hand in a silent gesture of support.
“We called 9-1-1 and went to her house. We were right outside the door when we heard gunshots.”
“Who was shot?”
“My friend’s brother. Russell, Ellie’s older brother, had cornered their mother in the kitchen. She had cuts on her arm, apparently from when she tried to fight him off. When he wouldn’t back off, she grabbed the gun over the stove and shot him.”
“Did he survive?”
“Yeah. His mom shot him in the leg, and she managed to get around him once he fell to the floor. Unfortunately, her first shot went wide. She didn’t see her twelve-year-old son come around the corner. He was killed instantly by the stray bullet.”
“That’s awful. Do you have any idea what caused the older brother to go after his mom like that?”
“He had drugs in his system. He had some sort of paranoid delusion and was convinced his mom was going to kill him in his sleep. He decided to kill her before she could get to him.”
Damian rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. “That sounds really traumatic, but I would have thought you’d be just as afraid of knives as you are of guns.”
“I was, actually. It’s taken me a long time to get to where I don’t feel like I have to lock up my kitchen knives.”
“Did you know the older brother well?”
“He was my sister’s boyfriend.”
“What?” Damian’s eyes widened.
“Well, ex-boyfriend, really. When she found out he was getting into drugs, she broke up with him. When she heard what happened, she really struggled with guilt, convinced it was her fault for not telling his mother what was going on.”
Paige gathered her thoughts before continuing. “Ellie and her family had a lot of post-traumatic stress. So did my sister and I, but my struggles didn’t seem that bad compared to what they went through. I spent the next couple years watching both of them go in and out of the mental hospital while they learned to cope.”
“Are they okay now?”
“My sister is doing great. It took a little while, but she eventually came to grips with what happened and that it wasn’t her fault.”
“And your friend’s family?”
“They’re . . . still struggling.”
“That’s too bad.” Damian looked at her intently. He stretched his arm out along the back of the couch, his fingers toying with her hair and sending an unexpected ripple of comfort through her. “And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“It sounds like you spent an awful lot of your high school years trying to take care of everyone else in addition to dealing with the memories of what happened. That had to have an impact on you.”
“Mostly I learned how to look for cues. Ellie tried to commit suicide a couple of times during our senior year, and I never knew when my sister was going to act like herself or when she was going to pick fights because she didn’t want to deal with life.” Paige’s shoulders lifted. “And I developed an irrational fear of guns.”
“Did you ever see a counselor to get help for yourself?”
“I went to a counselor right after it happened. Logically I know what I need to do to overcome my fear, but it’s hard to face something you don’t necessarily see that often.”
“Until you met me,” Damian said, his voice low. “Do you think you can ever get over your fear of guns?”
“Maybe. I am trying.”
He shifted beside her, his eyes locked on hers, his fingers trailing lightly against the back of her neck. “You’re pretty amazing, you know that?”
She shook her head, as much in answer to his question as to clear the shiver working through her.
“You know,” Damian continued. “You did refer to yourself as my girlfriend earlier today.”
Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “That was just a cover story.”
“It doesn’t need to be.” He drew her close, pausing when their lips were just a breath apart.
She didn’t have any reason to be nervous, she reminded herself. He would be like the other men she had dated in the past, someone to spend a week or two with until they both decided to part as friends. Yet when she thought of how much she had already come to trust Damian, she found herself hoping this would last.
Never before had she found someone she could confide in so completely, someone she always looked forward to being with. His lips pressed against hers in a tender kiss, and she felt herself melting against him.
Her hand came up to rest on his arm, and she could feel the strength there. She sensed the bridled energy humming through him, and yet he kept the kiss light and easy, his hands gentle as he held her close.
When he pulled back, she saw confusion in his eyes, and she wasn’t sure what to say. She was saved from needing to say anything when Damian’s cell phone rang.
“Sorry,” Damian said, shifting away from her so he could retrieve his phone from his pocket. He looked down at the screen. “It’s Kel.”
He answered it, and his forehead wrinkled in confusion as he listened to Kel for several minutes. “Okay, if you think that’s necessary.” He paused for another moment. “Yes, sir.”
“What was that all about?” Paige asked after he hung up.
“He said he was going to text me a phone number to call to check in with him when we get to Venezuela. He doesn’t want to take the chance that I’ll be connected back to him.”
“That makes sense.”
“Maybe we should consider getting you one of those prepaid phones for the same reason. I know you and Vanessa have talked on your phone.”
“Actually, I already have one. I’m leaving my regular phone here.” She wasn’t sure how much she was allowed to tell him. Then she took a leap of faith and decided to trust him completely. After all, she needed him to trust her. “Vanessa had someone alter one so the GPS signal can’t be traced. I also have an alias to travel under.”
“What’s the alias?”
“Jessica Archibald.”
“Does that mean I have to call you Jessica?” Damian asked.
“In public, I guess you do.”
“This is going to be weird.”
“Of course, that’s assuming anyone would even be paying attention,” Paige said. “Honestly, I still haven’t quite gotten used to the idea of traveling to another country tomorrow, much less being undercover.”
“When you decided to switch careers, you definitely went to the extreme.”
“Trust me. It wasn’t intentional.”